Rannok stumbled through the streets, head throbbing, vision fading with dark spots. He wavered as he walked, struggling to figure out what direction home was in. If they could even call it home. Ittra's tiny apartment wasn't home any more than the caravan was. His head spun. The sleeve of his tunic remained clutched to his face, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. 

Eventually he turned down the right blind alley and spotted the blank white flag, and the flowerbox a little further down. He pushed hard on the apartment's door and it swung open. Rannok fell to the ground in a heap. He couldn't find the strength to move his limbs, the pain radiating from his chest and back was too much. He let out a groan.

Ittra gasped and stood up from the table. "Michael, Elyn, help me!" she shouted, and the two appeared from one of the back rooms. Rannok barely knew what was happening as they scrambled around him, lifted him up, and helped him over to the corner of the room. The other door opened a second later and Wren darted out, eyes locked on his, wide with shock.

"Get me some hot water and a cloth, and a bottle of the liquor from the cabinet," Ittra ordered. Rannok watched Wren put a pot on to boil, then fish around in the cabinet. She came back a moment later with a rag and a bottle of hard alcohol clutched in her hand. She poured some of it out onto a cloth and handed it Ittra.

"What happened?" she demanded. The room spun as Elyn and Michael propped Rannok on one of the cushions in the corner. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and it came back soaked with blood. He tasted iron in the back of his throat, along with the metallic sting where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheeks. He hoped none of them were broken, or missing. 

Ittra went to open her mouth, but stopped when Rannok shot her a hard look. Anger flared in his chest again, but he said nothing. He knew he couldn't tell Wren about the sellswords. She'd ask questions, and then she'd ask more questions, and then they'd come back to Armand, and Rannok was sure after that she'd go looking for him. "I got mugged," he said. "Two guys, they said it was because I was a marked one. They took all my ingots and beat me up. Ahh-"

Ittra pressed the cloth to his lip. The sting of a thousand fire ants flew through his face. Rannok swore loudly and clutched at the cushion he was sitting on.

"They really got you," Elyn remarked as he watched. There was something strange in his eyes, almost like he knew Rannok was lying. They communicated silently for a few seconds before Elyn looked toward Michael, who gave a worried nod.

"I think we're going to need to stitch his lip up," he said. Ittra nodded in agreement.

"Get the needle and thread out of my bedroom," she said. "Sorry, kid, this is going to hurt quite a bit. Think you can take it, or does Michael need to hold you down? No shame either way, you got busted up pretty good."

Rannok deliberately looked away from Ittra. Wren looked at him with worry in her eyes, standing off a few feet, one arm folded, the other clutched to her mouth. Rannok felt a whole new guilt at lying to her. He wondered how long he'd have to do this for. How long he'd have to hide. She was bound to find out eventually, the question was just when. He wanted to punch Ittra, and almost did when she moved the cloth to one of the cuts under his eye.

Elyn came back a moment later with a spool of waxy thread and a wicked-looking needle. Rannok tried not to look at it as she poked the thread through the needle's eye and hovered her hands over his face. Rannok squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, but nothing happened. He opened them again and Ittra stared at the needle. She muttered a curse word under her breath.

"I'm too old for this, my hands shake too much. I'll just wind up hurting him more. Do you know how to sew?"

Wren's eyes widened. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Someone needs to sew his face up so he doesn't lose pieces of his lip. It's just like a coat, start at the bottom and make sure you don't make the stitches too tight." Ittra thrust the needle and thread into Wren's hands before she could protest anymore. Wren's eyes got a hard glint in them. Her fingers took a gentle hold of his face and the needle bit into the fragile flesh of his lower jaw.

"Sorry," she said as he winced. He let out a stifled groan and did his best to hold stock still. She poked it through the other side. He felt the thread go taut as the edges of his flesh pulled together, like firecrackers under his skin. Someone, he didn't know who, grabbed his hand and he squeezed it hard as she worked her way up the wound. 

Beads of cold sweat broke out across his forehead as his skin went cold and clammy. Spots danced in his vision, and the voices of the people in the room got very far away. It stopped hurting right as the room spun, then went black.

He came to a few seconds later. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. The knot Wren was tying reminded him by biting into his flesh like an angry hornet. She snipped the end of the threads as close as she could and stepped back.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked Ittra. 

Ittra shrugged. "Probably. Clean up his face and help him into the other room, I'm going to bed."

Wren came back with a cloth and the pot of hot water. She dipped the cloth into the pot and pressed it to his face. Rannok let out a hiss as the water made contact, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as the alcohol had. He watched silently as she dipped the cloth back into the pot and it came back stained pink with blood.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Terrible," she replied. Elyn and Michael both nodded in agreement.

"Whoever it was, they must have really not liked marked ones," Michael said. "I'm going outside, I don't like blood." He stood up and walked toward the door. Elyn followed and the latch clicked closed softly behind them. Wren continued to sponge the blood off his face, the warm water like fire instead of hornets on his cuts. 

"I'm going to need to find a way to get the blood out of this shirt. I only have one other one," he said. Wren nodded and wiped at his face one last time with the cloth. He let out a long, slow breath as she put the cloth in the pot and brought it to the sink. 

She came back a second later and held a hand out. Rannok struggled to his feet and a new wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. Wren caught him under the armpit, wings brushing his as she supported him. He was surprised he didn't knock her over with how small she was and how fragile she felt under his weight.

"I didn't think you'd ever be helping me," he said.

"I didn't either," she replied as they slowly made their way to the room Ittra wasn't sleeping in. She helped him to the corner and let him down gently on the pile of furs he'd been sleeping on for the last few nights. He let out a soft groan as his back protested. She winced for him and pulled one of the blankets up over his shoulders.

"Who did this to you?" she asked. He looked toward the wall, trying to hide the heat he could feel rising to his face. He breathed deep, his chest aching as the air rushed in from fresh wounds.

"I don't know," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Some people who didn't like marked ones, I guess." He turned back to look at her and her eyes smoldered under the surface in a way that made him worry she was going to combust. "Don't do anything stupid," he said.

"What makes you think I'd do something stupid?"

"I know you. You've been like this since we were kids. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," she said.

"Promise me."

Wren let out a fine hiss of air and crossed her arms. Something flashed across her face, he wasn't sure if it was rage or hurt or worry. She looked away from him.

He reached for her hand and tapped it so she'd look at him. "I don't want you getting hurt because of me. It's enough that I took your home from you and lied to you. It's enough that you had to suffer for four years because of me. Please. Promise me you won't do anything stupid." 

Wren folded her arms and stared back at him. 

"Fine," she said.

She got up from the room without another word and shut the door behind her. Rannok stared at the places where the light from their lamps spilled out through the seams in the doorway. He wanted to run after her and shake her until she saw sense. To argue with her and say mean things until she hated him again and went back to wishing he didn't exist.

He wasn't sure how they'd come this far in such a few days. He wasn't sure he trusted it. It felt like having his friend back, the one real friend he'd ever had. The friend he'd gone and ruined over a stupid box of fireworks. He wouldn't lose her again. He wouldn't let her get herself killed. But he'd promised he wouldn't protect her, least of all not from herself. He sighed and rubbed his temples. If she could break promises, so could he.