collateral damage

You stop, deep in the jungle. Your legs give way, and Argus catches you, panting heavily.
"We must rest." Argus says to no one, and you pant against them. They sound terrible; hoarse and exhausted. Your forehead is sticky with sweat, and your lungs burn.
"Shall we, Titus?" They insist, and you mumble an affirmation. Argus sets you down gently, leaned against a stagnant tree. Venetuium is known for moving trees. They are an off colored gray, and a nuisance. Argus begins a small fire with torchunder bark. You retch at the stench, but Argus insists there is no other option. You suspect they are even worse off than they let off. those robes must be cumbersome. They look at you, or their head turns toward you, and you croak out,
"Hot."
"Hmm?"
"You," They look at you, confused.
"Robes," you finish, and their face clears up.
"Ah. Alright." They lift up the heavy woolen thing. It is the first time you've ever seen a Mage completely. Their tunic sticks to them, an unspoken confirmation to your hypothesis. Their curly hair is damp against their skull, cut short, with little wisps of grey near their scalp. Argus' physique is pointedly male, the hard lines of their chest, and the sharp cut of their jaw. Your eyes wander to their face, and you wonder, suddenly, who their parents were. Wonder who mages are derived from. Did they keep contact with them? Were they all Venetins? The four you've met so far are, but then four isn't much of the gross population. You think perhaps you will ask them, ask them all kinda of questions, ask them if they miss their mother like you do. But maybe you cannot miss what you never had.

Days melt into a singular mass of hot and tired and damp. You are dimly aware of several day and night cycles, but focus on Argus' back. Bugs buzz around their head like a crown. In this blur, somewhere, hungry enters the mix. The two of you find the township by accident. It is a surprise to the both of you when you stumble into the direct sunlight. You stand atop a small hill, sans trees. A small town lay beneath, with a river flowing through it.
"Argus." You whisper, and Argus heaves a great sigh, and promptly falls face first.
Your reaction is shamefully slow, and you move as if you were stung by a paralysis bug. You struggle to turn them around, but you manage, if just barely. They are at least a head taller than you, and heavy despite their narrow frame. You drag them to the base of a shady tree, and use the last of your energy making it to the town..

It's smaller than you thought, made of cobble and wood, people bustling around. You for your part find the nearest vendor, and buy goats milk and two loaves of bread. Venetin children squint their eyes at you, and point, shrieking and laughing, but you ignore them. You tear a bit of bread off for yourself and head back up, limb heavy with relief.

Argus has woken up, and is calling bleakly, presumably in their own language. You feed them and give them drink, ignoring the burn in your own throat and stomach. Even now, they do not drain the milk or eat the entirety of the bread.
"You must also replenish, Titus." They say quietly, and you cannot bear to look them in their eyes.
"Argus, do this for me. I cannot progress without you." You insist gently, and reluctantly they eat most of their loaf, but insist you have some of the milk. You settle for now, and drink, sweet relief sliding down your throat.

You both sleep, leaned against the tree, under the shade. Your muscles ache, when you wake, and for the longest time, you sit in the lower afternoon light. You have long since grown accustomed to the oppressive heat, and are mildly surprised by the cool breeze caressing your face. You close your eyes and sigh, then muster up the strength to move. You slowly make your way to the river, and remove your shirt. You wade into the water and clean the dirt off your face and extremities in the icy water. It seems this particular river is too small to be used for a trade route, and it seems to be mainly for the town below. The current is not strong, though it the rapids seem to begin closer to the fall, and you make a mental note to tell Argus. You dip your head underwater, and watch the fish swim around you. They are the common freshwater fish, scales simply a glint of silver in the water. You wonder if Argus knows anything about fishing. Dark hair falls into your eyes, and you think idly that you will have to cut it. Argus' hasn't grown much. You wonder if that is a Mage attribute. You again wish you knew more. You walk back, wet tunic in one hand. Since you are farther away from the river and outside of the forest, there are less pesky bugs, and you are grateful for it. Your skin itches everywhere, and you wonder vaguely if you can somehow purchase tonic, or if Argus knows any remedies.

You decide that you need to starts fire, as the moon goddess gains the advantage.

Argus awakes, and blinks at you. You flush. You have been struggling for hours. They smile for the first time, and you give them an irritated look.
"Tis not my fault I am no Mage."
"It certainly is not." They say, and promptly get a flame crackling. You finally set your tunic to dry, and Argus decides to do much of the same.

They two of you sit on the summit, small fire dancing, with your clothes drying on a makeshift rack. (The knife is extremely useful for everything, you conclude). The moon rises slowly, relishing her triumph. You think that you have never see the moon so beautiful than right here and now, full of bread and milk, slightly damp, with the only being whom you trust your life with.
~*~
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Do words even exist anymore lmao