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Forfeit (part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

Thirteen hours later, having made good progress towards Whiterun, they set camp. As the brothers were equally skilled at cooking, they had long ago decided to take it in turns, in the hope that maybe one day one of them would produce something edible. Tonight was Vilkas’ turn, and Farkas was hungry, and getting sick of waiting.

“Hungry,” he said pointedly. “When’s dinner?”

Vilkas shook himself from his reverie, and looked up. “Sorry. What...?”

“Dinner. Your turn.”

“Oh, that. Forgot.” Vilkas stood up, stumbling slightly. Farkas watched as the colour drained from his face, and sweat beaded on his forehead, reacting quickly enough to catch him as he fell.

“Vil? What’s wrong? Vil?” Vilkas’ skin was hot but clammy with sweat, his breathing laboured.

“Leg hurts. Like fire.”

Unwrapping the bandage, Farkas used the firelight to check the wound on Vilkas’ calf. The smell hit him first, sweet and gangrenous all at the same time. The hole was red and weeping, and red tendrils were expanding from the edges, seeking out fresh flesh to invade. He fought back the urge to retch, not quite successfully.

“Nasty infection, brother. Were you planning to tell me? I still have potions.”

“Felt OK till a few minutes ago, but I’ll take a potion if you think I need to.”

“If you could smell this, you wouldn’t need to ask.”

Farkas fished around in his bag, eventually finding a healing potion. “Here,” he said. “Get this down.”

Vilkas drank gratefully, feeling better as the colour returned to his face.

Farkas, monitoring the wound on his leg, was perturbed. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

“It looks better, but the wound didn’t close, and it’s still red. Try this,” he said, handing him a poison cure.

Vilkas drank. “Any change?”

“Most of the redness is gone, but not all. I think we need to get to Danica. This is beyond my ability, and I’ll be out of potions soon. We’re not far from Dragon Bridge, and we can get a wagon to Solitude to get some more.”

“That’s going to cost you.”

“You’re my brother. Would you rather I just push you off a cliff when you start to stink too much?”

“It’s better than rotting, but we’ll do it your way for now.” Vilkas managed to duck the swat aimed at his head. “Dinner,” he said. “What are you making?”