"You're walking?" Lyra asked, her voice trembling. "I-i was so worried. When we came back and saw you were gone... I thought..."
"When I woke up," Sol said gently, allowing her to fuss over him. "I found I could walk around again. I'm okay, maybe this is the effect of that weird medicine of healer."
Lyra let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for days. She hugged him tight, burying her face in his chest. She smelled of earth and sweat… the smell of survival, not the musk of pleasure he was covered in earlier. It made a pang of guilt strike his chest, but he shoved it down quickly.
"Where were you?" she asked, pulling back to look at him. "The sun is down."
Sol hesitated. He looked at the meager pile of roots by the fire…barely enough to fill their stomach. Then he thought of the feast happening in the square, the grease dripping into the fire, the waste.
"I went to the square," Sol said, deciding to rip the bandage off. "To the distribution."
