Third person
As the sky darkened, Caelan felt weaker and weaker. By the stroke of ten, he could barely carry his body up.
Rain watched him wither away. His vision blurred in passing minutes, and he would murmur a word or two. Rain didn't ask; he didn't pressure. He just wiped him down, helped reduce his fever, and stayed up watching him all night.
As they rode into the night, a sudden wave of unease engulfed him, but Rain kept his mind on the man in his arms. At some point, Caelan had unconsciously crawled into his arms, and like a mother bear, Rain held him tight enough to keep him warm and loose enough not to hurt him.
By the first howl of dawn, they had crossed midway and settled by a river. The men started by washing their faces and grabbing a bite. Viola walked up to the prince's carriage with a tray of freshly picked berries from a nearby bush and hot roasted fish caught from the river.
"My prince… time for breakfast," she announced outside the carriage.
