[X] Go see him. Go see him *now*.
- [X] Wait. Make sure that you're clothed enough to be decent. *Then* go see him.
Your blood runs cold at the woman's words. Gazat'ken must have made it. But that foul, tainted mutant… His words were true. That Lost One did strike your friend as he ran, and all that time poison must have been flowing through his veins. But even still he ran, forced himself to carry word of the attack despite his wounds.
You have to go to him. You have to be by his side. He has suffered for you, for your Clan. If he still lives, if he has somehow held on, then you must be there for him. You can't let him be alone. Not in what is likely his final hours.
"I must see him," you say, pushing away from the wall to rest your weight firmly on your own legs. The motion almost sends you falling flat on your face. "I must…"
"There is a robe there," the medicine woman says, motioning to the end of your bed. "Dress yourself, and I will take you to him."
You put on your robe as quickly as you can and follow the medicine woman. You have to keep a hand on the wall of the hallway to stay upright, but you manage to keep up with her brisk pace. She leads you to a smaller, more private room and opens the door.
Gazat'ken lays on a bed inside, Talak'tet by his side. Jarit'ya is laying on a bed next to it, properly bandaged and looking much better now that he has had medical attention. But Gazat'ken… Gazat'ken looks awful.
His fur has fallen out in clumps, and the flesh beneath is a sickly yellow from which the Nezumi's veins stand out clearly like black lines. His stomach is bandaged, but red has stained the cloth deeply. Even worse, you can see signs of pus seeping out from the wound. It's thick and vile, a brownish green that smells so bad you have to keep from gagging on the stench. Even worse, some of Gazat'ken's teeth have fallen out and what remains is discolored with rot. He is a wretched sight.
Gazat'ken's eyes are clouded, and he is writhing in pain. It is a weak shuddering, though. The Nezumi looks three quarters dead, and cannot have much energy left. Whatever poison was used on the sword that injured him so, it has caused Gazat'ken unimaginable agony. Where once you knew a swift, agile scout is nothing but a broken creature but a few shallow breathes from the grave.
As you look at this, you cannot help but wonder how Gazat'ken still lives. You know the Nezumi are resilient, practically immune to disease, but what you are looking at defies belief. Gazat'ken should be dead right now. It is a miracle he is still alive.
"I have done what I can," says a man in the room. You look up, only just noticing the Kuni Shugenja. He is a tall man, and the face paint he wears makes him look fierce. "But the poison has been in his blood too long. The fact that he ran did not help matters. It spread the toxin too far within his body."
"There's nothing you can do?" you ask as you enter the room. You kneel down by Gazat'ken's side, taking in the Nezumi's pitiful form. He's barely even breathing. "Can't you help him?"
"Don't you think I would if I could?" the Shugenja growls. He turns his face away to hide the shame from his expression, though you can see his hands clenching. "This Nezumi is a hero. My inability to save him leaves me dishonored."
"Nothing can be done now," Talak'tet says forlornly, head bowed. "Tomorrow has caught up to Gazat'ken. He can run from it no more."
"Hiruma Sosuke?" Gazat'ken rasps, his back arching a little. Talak'tet pushes him down gently, but Gazat'ken reaches out a hand in your direction. It is a weak motion. It is obvious the Nezumi can barely move at all. "Hiruma Sosuke, is… that… you? I hear-hear… but I cannot… see-see."
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