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Pete spent the rest of the afternoon caring for Daemi by his wagon. He fed her a strangely scented thin gruel and an even stronger smelling tea, and bit by bit she seemed to improve, eventually sitting up and allowing a weak smile to move across her face. Pete had removed her helm as soon as Wilt had let her go, and Wilt had seen her young face for the first time. She was around his age, pale of skin, and with a light scattering of freckles across her cheeks. She could almost be described as pretty. Yet when Pete lay her head down, her eyes remained closed and a bluish tinge coloured her lips. She looked half dead, and Wilt had slunk away as waves of guilt washed over him.
Wilt stalked around the edge of the camp, glancing over to check her progress every now and then and allowing the
