“Sorry--” He manages as she catches him, bearing his weight while he struggles to regain his balance. It proves much harder when everything in his vision shimmers mirage-like even when he’s still.

“Sorry, I… I jus’ moved faster than, than I should’ve”.

He’s sure he could’ve laughed wryly at her comment any other day since he still has the presence of mind, while dipping in and out of consciousness, to figure he looks every bit as sick as he is, feeling like ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack. Her suggestion’s sound – but it’s one he has a knee-jerk urge to keep challenging. There’s a time to resign oneself to one’s injuries, and while safety’s not guaranteed back at camp, at least there were more of them to watch over each other there. It’s a different story while out in the thick of the woods with imagined threats jumping out at him and his mind so scrambled that he can’t tell his axe from a snake or vines creeping their way up to his throat, strangling him.

When his leg suddenly gives on him and he slumps forward, his choice is gone, his body like an old jalopy that’s run out of fumes. He slides free from her grip, hands snapping out to brace a tree. His pulse hammers his skull.

“Go…" He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting to swallow against bile rising into his throat. "S'too risky... I’ll, I’ll catch up.”