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“Never mind, I just wondered why women were following us.”

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder. “…comin’ tae see tae ye.”

One of the monks nodded. None of them spoke.

Torin said, “...the priory winna hae maids and the brothers canna go near ye...”

“Oh.”

The two women hurried to catch up, following me a pace behind.

Inside the courtyard, many monks walked slowly with their heads bowed. There were no conversations, just silence, all communication was by hand signals. There was an eerie silence except for a goat tethered near the herb garden, bleating as Torin was carried across the yard.

The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, wet wool, and something bitter — crushed herbs, maybe? I hoped for medicine, Torin needed medicine.

The monks carried him through a side gate and into a sturdy, low building. Torin leaned heavily on them, his face drawn and pale in the gray light of the rainy day.

I tried to stay close, but the pair of women intercepted and took my hands to lead me away. They were speaking fast, I couldn’t understand what they said.

I shook my head, and drew back, refusing to go, but the older of the two women gestured at my clothes. She insisted.

And she wasn’t wrong, I was wet through to the bone and shivering.

But still... I didn’t want to leave him. I felt like, somehow, my presence was keeping him alive.

As he was carried down the hall I called, “Torin, I don’t know where they’re taking me.”

He asked the monks to stop, and spoke to the women, and they spoke back, gesturing more than I liked, seeming to say, she won’t listen. Then his eyes met mine. “...go, mo leannan… tis good.”

“Will you be here when I’m done? Don’t go doing anything terrible.”

“Aye, I will be here, I promise.”

I was whisked away down a corridor into a small, clean room. Both the women were conversing with each other, one gesturing, the other shaking her head with her hands on her hips — they both sounded irritated. I hoped it wasn’t about me, but it also seemed to be an overall bitching about me, about Torin, about the rain, the monks.

The room was sparse, a hearth without a fire, a tiny window, and a sturdy, narrow bed that looked to be made for one person.There was a small table beside the bed, with a single candle on it. Above the bed hung a plain wooden cross. A chill permeated the room, as if suspended between the cold stone walls.

The light in the room was gloomy and fading as evening encroached. My eyesight was dimmed with an eerie blackness around the edges, as if the world were filtered with a dark sooty vignette on the corners. Besides that my breaths were too loud. It was all disconcerting.

Also, my clothes were heavy with rain, the bottom of my skirts dragging on the dirt floor, my shirt clinging coldly to my skin.

The women helped me out of my sodden layers, peeling off my outer dress, then the shift beneath, until I stood shivering in nothing but my underwear and gooseflesh, no modesty at all.

But I didn’t really notice, I was too worried about Torin. Somewhere down the hall I heard a moan.

I glanced at one of the women undressing me.

She nodded and gave me a grim smile that I took to mean, He is not well… the monks will do the best they can.

I did not believe their best would be good enough.

This seemed like the kind of injuries that needed a Johns Hopkins kind of hospital.

They rubbed my arms briskly with a rough linen towel.

I shivered a lot.

Please don’t let me get sick. Torin needs me.