Merlin sighed. He was kind of getting tired of saving Arthur, nursing him back to health, and getting no credit and more chores in return. But, he was used to it, and he could tolerate it, so getting credit didn't really matter. Arthur would find out eventually.

He turned to look at the small fire he had built. This time, it had been bandits. They had been hunting, of course, and stumbled across them while following a deer trail. They had gotten away, but Arthur had taken a nasty gash to the head and a slash across his arm.

The only reason he survived was because of Merlin, as usual.

They had been sitting there for hours, Merlin tending to Arthur and making sure the fire burned bright with dry wood so there was no smoke. He was starting to get worried. They were expected back at the castle tomorrow morning, and he had no idea where they were, they had no horses, and Arthur was in no condition to run or fight off any new threats.

Arthur groaned.

He spun around quickly, staring at Arthur anxiously. Was he finally waking up?

After a few seconds of silence, with no movement from Arthur whatsoever, he sighed and turned around again, then stood up. He was going to need to redress his friend's wounds again. He had been using strips of cloth from his shirt, and now almost all of his sleeves were gone. He needed to keep busy, keep warm. Plus, keeping his hands busy kept his mind off of their depressing situation.

Of course, Merlin got hurt too- probably a sprained wrist, hopefully not broken, and he had a big cut running down his leg, but that wasn't his priority right now. Besides, the cut wasn't bleeding anymore.

Gathering the small game bag he brought with, he set out to gather herbs, and attempt to find food and water.

(.~.)

Arthur was so, so confused.

All he knew was one moment he was fighting, and the next he was blinking spots out of his eyes, painfully struggling to get up, and there was a little fire that slightly lit the small clearing he was in.

His head hurt. His arms hurt, especially the left one. He was shaking and sweating, but freezing at the same time, and it was dark. He wasn't quite sure if that was because of his weird vision or because it was actually dark.

How long had he been out? What happened? Where was he? And why did his head hurt so much?

All of the questions only made his head throb more.

Then panic hit as a thought occurred.

Where's Merlin?

There it was, the thing that had been bugging him. He must've been the one to build the fire, bring him here, and dress his arm, right? But where was he?

If he was the one to do all of this, than that means he was alright, right?

A shadow fell across him.

He looked up quickly, startled, which just made his vision swim and the blood pounding through his head go BangBangBang, which made him dizzier and he was frantically blinking to clear his vision, grasping his waist where his sword should have been- where was his sword? Oh-

"You're awake!"

He recognized the voice instantly, and relaxed. It was Merlin. How did he manage to sneak up on him like that? He was anything but stealthy.

He decided he'd blame it on his being ill.

Then he felt rough hands pushing him back down, and there was coolness on his forehead that made his head feel less painful for a few seconds, and he found that when he opened his eyes again the spots were gone and he could see Merlin staring at him with equal parts hope and anxiousness.

"Oh, quit it Merlin. You look like a crazed nursemaid," he muttered. His voice sounded painfully thin.

Merlin didn't reply, and instead started redressing his arm. Arthur opened his eyes again and looked at him, trying to figure out if he was hurt, but he couldn't see much of him in the dim firelight.

His mind was whirling with a thousand questions, but he settled on just one.

"What happened?"

Merlin looked at him sharply.

"You led us straight into a bandit camp, and then they knocked you over the head and you passed out. We were stuck there for two days, and I had to drag your sorry behind out of there. You're immensely heavy, by the way."

Arthur tried to process that. Merlin had dragged him here? How far away from the camp were they? He couldn't remember much. He had been confused. He remembered thinking- why did animal tracks lead them to bandits? And then he was fighting, and then his head had hurt really badly. How in the world did Merlin get out of the camp and get him away? There must've been eight, and Arthur took care of probably five.

But his head was throbbing again, and he could feel unconsciousness tugging at him, urging him into its black grips, so he let the questions go.

"Arthur, you need to sleep. Go on, I'll keep watch."

It didn't even occur to him that Merlin hadn't slept once, and his head hurt so bad.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back and allowed himself to fall into the black.

(.~.)

He woke up in what only seemed like a few minutes later, when in reality it was probably hours, to Merlin shaking him. His head felt a little better, at least.

Merlin looked worried and anxious, and he put his finger over his lips to silence any questions Arthur was about to ask.

Motioning him forward, they silently crept to the edge of their little hideout. When he saw what Merlin was so worried about, the blood drained from his face. How could she have found them?

She was calling something, turning around in a slow circle to look at the edges of large depression she was in. He listened harder.

"Arthur, my dear brother, come on out! Merlin, too! Come on, I know you're here. No point in hiding anymore. You've managed to escape, but I know you're here. There is no point in hiding. So come on out." Her voice was sickly sweet, slightly annoyed, but gleeful at the same time.

Arthur started to stand up. He was going to talk some sense into her, while Merlin stayed up here and-

"No. Arthur, I will handle this. You are not in any state to go charging down there," he pulled Arthur back down.

Sitting back reluctantly, Arthur glowered at the ground. Merlin was right. Even though he had just slept, and the only thing he had done was crawl up here, he was blinking spots out of his eyes. Damn, how hard had that guy hit him in the head?

He hated it when Merlin was right.

Merlin's face was serious, determined, like the look that he gave Arthur when he was being stubborn about something and he was trying to talk some sense into the King.

"Just stay hidden, no matter what," And then he was gone, down to the clearing where Morgana was waiting, before Arthur could get a word in otherwise.