Hey, nurse, can I get your number?

He couldn't die. Those were the words that had repeated in Syanna's head over and over while she watched the highly skilled medics of the Hallows tend to Ezra's wounds. She had been so thankful he'd been asleep through the entire ordeal, silently thanking whatever gods were responsible for wolfsbane being a thing. She hadn't intended to stay in the pack after getting Ezra back home, but her injured leg kept her prisoner. The healers had also tended to her, and the fae now wore her leg in a sling, as she would for a few days until the sprain had healed and she could walk on it without yelping. Ulric, the pack's alpha and Ezra's father, had graciously offered her choice accommodations to stay in, a sort of thank you reward for saving his son's life. Of course, she had omitted the part of her story where she may have led the sabertooth tiger to Ezra in the first place, but she was feeling guilty enough without giving the Hallowed wolves cause to hate her.

Ezra had slept almost the entire remainder of the day, waking only sometime during the evening to drink and receive more pain meds, still in a delirious haze before he fell back asleep and slept through the night. Syanna had sat up beside Ezra's bedside well past midnight, long after the rest of the world had gone to sleep, stroking a paw across his big, dumb head and petting him to soothe him through his slumber. Guilty green eyes never left his face, making sure there was no trace of pain in his features. This clumsy, stupid, dopey boy who had risked his life to save hers. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, like there wasn't a thing wrong waiting for him when he woke up. She wished she could take the pain from him, wipe away the wounds from his body like a chalk drawing.

When Syanna did finally leave Ezra's side to get some sleep, she left him with a gentle kiss to his forehead, whispering a quiet threat that he'd better still be alive when she came back. Sleep had not been nearly as peaceful for the fox-like fae, tossing and turning in the big empty bed, the comforts feeling foreign to her. Ezra lived such a comfortable life here in the castle, it blew her mind that he'd ever do something to risk losing it—like death. But the comforts felt wrong to her. She had gotten him hurt, grievously so, and that was the only reason she was here in the first place. Syanna had to make things right; she would stay to make sure Ezra made a full recovery, then she would be out of his life forever. He didn't need someone like her in it anyway.

Syanna hadn't bothered to get breakfast, instead going straight to the infirmary once she had woken up. Ezra was still asleep, so Syanna wandered around the infirmary, waiting and listening for the moment he woke up. Some time later, the sound of a body shifting and grunts of pain caught her attention. Ezra's voice, weak and hoarse, called the beginnings of her name, but by then she was already hurrying to his bedside. "Shhh, save your strength. I'm right here." She gave him a relieved smile, wasting no time to gather a bowl and fill it with water from a skin sitting beside the bed. "Oh gods, Ezra, I'm..." She flinched against the crushing guilt to see him laid so low, but also so overwhelmingly grateful to see him alive. Without a word, she set the bowl of water on the edge of the bed, pushing it closer to his muzzle so he could drink and maybe recover his voice. "How are you feeling? Do you need more pain medicine? What can I get you?" she asked, fully involving herself as his personal medic.

"Syanna Alluráin"