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They made good progress for the next few hours, although Sphagnum Moss struggled to keep up. He had jarred his right hip when he had fallen, and he could only hold his staff in his right hand because his left hand still stung whenever it brushed anything.
By mid-afternoon, Tarkyn could stand it no more. When they stopped for a tea break, he walked over to Sphagnum Moss and sat down beside him. “Sphagnum Moss, I admire stoicism as much as the next man, but your unnecessary suffering is distressing me. I don’t know whether I can fix your hand, but I can definitely fix your hip, if you’ll allow me to.”
“Don’t force him,” said Tree Fern, coming to sit on the other side of her grandfather as she handed him a cup of tea.
Perversely, that was enough for Sphagnum Moss to agree. “I don’t nee
