The candle burned low in Mae's hut, its flickering light dancing across Levi's bandaged face. He lay on a straw mat near the hearth, half-sitting, eye closed, jaw clenched. The ache behind his right eye pulsed steadily, a heartbeat of pain.
Jory sat cross-legged beside him, silent for a long time. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. Finally, he spoke.
"You scared the piss out of me, you know that?"
Levi gave a small smirk. "Glad I left a lasting impression."
"Don't joke," Jory snapped. "You almost died."
"I know."
There was weight in that acknowledgment. Not flippant. Not deflecting. Just... true.
Jory leaned forward, lowering his voice. "What did they do to you out there?"
Levi opened his good eye and stared up at the ceiling beams.
"They took away the idea that I could just 'talk' my way through everything," he said. "It wasn't about plans or clever words. It was about surviving something no sane person would volunteer for."
He paused, then added, "They said if I came back, I'd come back whole. But if I didn't fight to come back, I wasn't worth their time."
Jory frowned. "That doesn't sound like honor."
"It's not. It's a swamp's kind of honor. You bleed, you sink, you rise... or you don't. That's it."
Mae stepped into the room then, holding a steaming cloth and a small clay pot. She didn't speak right away—just knelt beside him and began changing his bandage.
When the cloth pulled away, Levi hissed, turning his face.
"It's going to scar," Mae said calmly.
"Let it," Levi muttered.
She worked in silence for a bit longer, then finally sighed. "You're not the same boy who stumbled into my hut months ago."
"I'm still lazy," Levi said.
"You are," Mae agreed, but there was no anger in her voice. "But lazy men don't come back from what you did."
After a moment, she added more softly, "And lazy men don't come back to protect others, even if they're afraid."
Levi didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Earlier that Day - House Reed's Message
Before their departure, Levi had been summoned to one final conversation—with the elder and the young crannogman who'd spoken in quiet support.
The elder, gaunt and weathered, leaned forward on his staff and said:
"You bled for your village, boy. But blood is just the beginning."
Levi stood silently, his bandage still fresh, face set.
"We are not your allies," the elder continued, "but we're not your enemies either. Moat Cailin has fallen to ruin. The North has forgotten many places... but the swamps remember."
Then the young crannogman, perhaps a few years older than Levi, spoke.
"I believe in Bogwater," he said. "What you're building—it might seem small to others. But it isn't. My name is Harra, son of Moret. One day, when the tides shift and our people need refuge, I might come to you. I might bring others."
Levi blinked. "That's... not something I ever expected to hear."
"You shouldn't expect anything," the elder said. "But prepare. House Reed watches. If Bogwater thrives, you may find yourself with more than neighbors. You may have kin."
Return to the Present
The fire popped. Mae stood, finishing the new bandage.
"Sleep," she said gently. "Tomorrow you'll tell me everything. For now... rest."
Levi closed his good eye.
Jory lingered a little longer, watching the darkened bandage over Levi's eye.
"You'll be alright?"
"No," Levi said quietly. "But I'll get better."
He meant more than the wound.