Fresh flame climbed through the wood, throwing enough light across the room to reveal the tension set deep in Seiya's jaw and the redness around her tired eyes. She had not cried, not once since crossing his doorway, but Wade could feel the weight buried inside her silence. It did not need tears to make itself known. He dipped the cloth into a bowl of cool water, rung it out with slow, controlled hands, and laid it once more across Taza's forehead. The boy was still burning.
That troubled Wade. He had seen fevers break after hours of careful tending. He had also seen them rise so fast that no amount of effort could stop what followed. Seiya noticed the brief hesitation in his hands. Is he getting worse?
Her voice remained controlled, but tension ran through every word. He's not worse, Wade answered quietly. But he's still holding too much heat. Seiya placed her palm against her son's ribs. The temperature beneath her hand sharpened the fear inside her, but she buried it before it reached her face.
She had survived raids. She had survived winters without proper shelter. She had survived the slow loss of Nako. Panic would do nothing for her now. Wade could read the tension in her posture more clearly than she realized.
Watching her brought back memories of mothers he had seen along the trails. Women hunched over her sick children, guarding them with everything they had left, refusing to step away, even when their own bodies were ready to give out. Wade poured a small amount of fresh water into a tin cup and handed it to her. Try getting a little more into him. Seiya carefully lifted Taza's head.
The boy's lips parted. A few drops passed between them. He swallowed weakly, then sagged back against his mother. She lowered him onto the blanket again with almost sacred care, as if one careless movement might pull him farther away from her. Wade dragged the chair closer.
His expression hardened with frustration. He was struggling to keep under control. He had never been good at uncertainty, and Taza's condition left far too much of it. Wade had no real medical training beyond what years on the cattle trails had forced him to learn. He knew enough to understand that the boy needed water in small amounts.
He knew they had to keep the fever from building higher. Beyond that, there were limits to what he could do. Several hours passed without any clear improvement. The cabin seemed to grow darker as the lamp burned lower. The only sounds left were the faint crackle of the stove and Taza's uneven breathing.
Seiya continued whispering Apache words to him, trying to keep him anchored to the waking world. Even though her own eyelids were beginning to fall, Wade noticed the trembling in her hands. When was the last time you rested? Before sunrise yesterday. She never looked away from her son.
You've got nothing left in you. I'll stay awake until he stands again. She did not say it like a hope. She said it like an oath. Wade did not argue.