hathor_girl

Sam POV

It's about an hour later. I have eaten some of the food, and the rest we are keeping warm in the kitchen. I am very tired, since I have not slept and it is very late now. Around 3 in the morning, I think. But I can't sleep until I know Martouf and Lantash will be okay.

Suddenly Martouf - or Lantash, I think - makes a soft noise and a moment later he opens his eyes.

"Lantash? Martouf?" I ask, tense.

He looks at me, and I see the recognition in his eyes. He smiles. It is a small smile, but it is a smile. "Samantha."

It is Lantash. "How are you?"

"Better." He insists.

I touch his forehead, and he is no longer feverishly warm, but feels close to normal. I nod. "You feel better. Your fever is down."

"Yes. I got the infection under control, and now I have begun healing the various injuries somewhat faster."

"What about Martouf?"

"He is still unconscious. I prefer he stays that way until I have healed more of the damage. We are still in a lot of pain."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I gently stroke his cheek. "But I am glad you are better."

He smiles at me, and leans into the caress. "I am. We will be fine, do not worry, Samantha."

"I'm very grateful for that. I was so worried you wouldn't make it. You were really not well when I carried you back here."

"So i remember correctly. I had a vague memory of being carried by you, but I was not sure if it was feverish hallucinations."

"It was real." I sigh. "The inquisitor and much of the population of the city is still looking for you, but you're safe here." I grimace. "The inquisitor apparently thinks I am just right for him and wants to marry him, so there's a limit to how much they will bother us here."

"Well at least he has good taste!" Lantash smiles at me. "But that is the only positive thing that can be said about him! If I could get my hands on him I would kill him! I will not allow him to harm you, Samantha!"

"I understand - and don't worry. I'll be fine." I suddenly remember the food. "Do you want some hot soup, or maybe some tea? Some bread?"

"I had not noticed, but I am actually fairly hungry. I do not know how much I can keep down right now, but I think I would like to try some of the soup first."

"I'll get you some!" I hurry to the small kitchen and pour some soup in a bowl, then hurry back. "I...can help you eat it?"

Lantash smiles at me. "Thank you, but I think I can manage." He winces a little as he moves his right arm.

"Your arm is broken! Don't move it!"

"It's starting to heal..."

"Yes...so don't aggravate the injury!" I tell him, exasperated.

He looks at me for a moment, then sighs and nods. "Very well. I will accept your kind offer of help."

I smile and help him sit up a little straighter, then starts to feed him the soup. He eats it, gratefully.

I feel so relieved that he is well enough to eat, at least! I also feel happy that he will let me help him - I know he is not the type of person who will accept help from many.

After he has eaten the soup, I bring him some of the medicine for him, which he takes, grimacing a little. I guess it tastes bad.

"Do you want anything else? Some of the bread? Cheese? Tea?"

Lantash grins at me. "Anything else?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Jeez, you're obviously feeling better." I smile at him. "Something I'm very glad about!"

He takes my hand. "Thank you for helping us and caring about us."

"Of course, Lantash. You're...my friends. Very good friends. I care about you. A lot."

He nods, sighing. Had he hoped I would have said something else. Before I have time to consider that further, the door opens and my dad enters. He looks a bit groggy, as if he's just woken up. I guess he hasn't gotten much sleep either.

"You're awake?" He looks at Lantash. We discreetly let go of each other. "How are you doing?"

"Better, Jacob."

"Martouf is still unconscious." I add.

My dad nods. "Well, you look somewhat better, but I don't think you're well enough to get out of that bed anytime soon."

"I had not intended to. Except that I need to use the facilities soon."

"It's through that door." I point. "Do you need help?" I feel my cheeks grow hot. "Getting out of the bed, walking there...I mean..."

Lantash smiles at me. "I think I can manage."

I help him move the blanket aside, and with a supporting hand from me, he sits up and slides out of bed. "You sure you can walk yourself?" I ask.

"Yes." He stands, more than a little unstable, but he regains his balance after both my dad and I reach out for him. "Thank you, but I can do this."

I smile and shake my head a little at his stubbornness. He does make it to the bathroom on his own, slowly, supporting himself with his good, left arm, on all the furniture he passes on the way, and then against the wall, panting a little from exhaustion.

I take a deep breath with relief when he makes it to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He is a very proud man, but I am intensely grateful he is so much better that he can walk on his own.

Since he is only wearing a loincloth, I also had an easy view of much of his body, and the injuries have healed a lot since last I looked. His back is still covered by angry red lines from the whip, but all those wounds had closed, and was well on the way to healing. His arm is sore, but healing. The stab wounds and burn marks on his upper body are healing and fading.

I know he had been burned under the feet too, but I think those injuries must have healed a lot as well, as he did not seem to be in too much pain from stepping on his feet.

The infection and possible beginning of pneumonia is gone.

I take another deep breath. He is healing, recovering - and at a much higher speed than a human, even in his somewhat weakened state. I feel almost lightheaded with relief.

I suddenly realize my dad is speaking to me - and that I am still staring at the door where Lantash disappeared a moment ago. Or however long ago it was. How long did I stand there looking into nothingness?

Embarrassed, I turn to my dad. "Uh, yes? What were you saying?"

He shakes his head, an annoyed expression on his face. "Weren't you paying attention at all? I've been talking to you for a long time!"

"Sorry. I'm...tired, and I was thinking..."

My dad sighs. "Of course. Well, what I was saying was that you should try and get some sleep. We don't know how long we can convince Nittik to leave you alone, but sooner or later he will insist on seeing you...worse, he may insist on searching our rooms, when they don't find their 'warlock' anywhere."

"We need to think of something! If he comes in here, it will be difficult to avoid him seeing Martouf!"

My dad nods. "Yes, we need somewhere to hide him, if we can't escape soon, and I fear that we can't. Not as long as Nittik thinks he needs to protect you."

I sigh and try to think of some plan, but is interrupted when the door to the bathroom opens and Lantash comes back out again. He is a little steadier on his legs now.

"Feeling better?" I ask.

Lantash nods as he slowly walks towards us. "Yes, I do. I think I'm actually interested in a little of that bread and cheese you mentioned before. And maybe a cup of the tea."

"Great! I'll get you some!"

I leave for the small kitchen, while my dad helps Lantash get back into bed.