Solas focused on the girl in front of him, attempting to ignore the flashbacks to the first time he'd met her. She had been bleeding out then too. Back then none of her vital organs had been hit, and one bone had been hit, not shattered, only cracked. And this time, the thought of her death elicited more than mere concern for the child and a fear for the world at large.
He had taught this girl, mentored her, and shared meals and riveting conversations. He cared about her, and her death would be devastating. Not only to him, but to the rest of them as well. She had cemented her place in the hearts surrounding her.
Her lung had been punctured, one of her ribs had also been struck, and the arrow in her shoulder was firmly lodged in the bone. He was reluctant to remove it; it would likely cause more damage. He would have no choice, but the lung was the bigger priority.
"What do you need?" Dorian asked, watching Solas work.
Dorian wasn't particularly skilled in healing, but he would need his help when he had to pull out the arrow.
"A sharp dagger—sanitise it," he ordered. "I need to drain the blood from her lung."
Though he could heal the lung itself, there was no point while all that blood was in there. Dorian hurried off to do just that. There was no time to boil it as Holli had taught the infirmary staff; fire would have to do.
He had used his magic to stop the bleeding, inside and out; he was going to have to create another wound to drain the blood.
Dorian returned with the blade, and Solas carefully cut into her side. She moaned and tried to move. Not completely unconscious.
"Shh, Holli," Solas tried to comfort her.
He watched the blood drain, using his magic to slow the blood loss. He couldn't stop it entirely, not yet. With yet more magic he coaxed the blood out from her lung, and when he was satisfied he had drained it all, he healed the wounds.
It was a difficult and painstaking process, and at the end of it he was starting to feel drained. Once again he lamented this newfound weakness he'd woken with.
"Hold her still while I pull out this arrow," Solas told Dorian.
Dorian held her down, keeping a firm hold on her while Solas carefully pulled it out. She let out another groan, her eyes fluttering open and connecting with his. They were clouded with pain but glazed and unaware of her surroundings. She started to cry, tears spilling from the corners.
"You're all right, Holli," he assured her. It was a lie.
She was still in grave danger. Though he had done all the healing on her lung he could, it was weak and scarred, and it was possible it could tear. He was not as skilled a healer as she was. He couldn't go as deep or be as thorough. Then there was the risk of infection. He had seen magically healed wounds cause problems. He now understood the concept of bacteria thanks to Holli, and those invisible creatures were still there.
And then there was the bone; he didn't have the skill to fix the broken shards or the equipment to remove them manually. He healed what he could, closing the wound. With the shards of bone in there, when she woke, she was going to be in pain. Movement would also cause more internal damage until they could be removed. Unless she woke with enough strength and lucidity to heal herself. That would be the ideal scenario. But he wasn't sure it would go that way given the severity of her injuries and the internal damage that was still there.
With as much of her healed as he could manage, he tried to make her comfortable while splinting her shoulder so she wouldn't be able to move it and do more damage to herself.
The tent flap suddenly parted, and Cole entered, covered in blood. Clearly none of it was his own. He dropped to his knees beside her, looking to Solas questioningly.
"Are you injured, Cole?" Solas asked, just in case.
He shook his head. "Will Holli be all right?"
He reached out to her, brushing the backs of his fingers across her cheek and leaving a smear of blood. Turning his hand over, he looked at the blood all over it for a second before finding a cloth and wiping it from her face and then his hand.
"We'll see," he said, rising to his feet. "Keep an eye on her; I must speak with Hawke."
Solas found the man outside the tent with the others; he paused in his pacing when he saw the elf.
"How is she?" He asked, the others drawing closer to hear as well.
"I've done what I can, but she's not out of danger. If I recall correctly, there is a Dalish clan not far from here. We should take her there; they'll have the instruments I need and another mage skilled in the healing arts."
"All right, let's do it. It's safe enough for her to travel?"
"It's more dangerous not to," he replied. "She's unconscious for now; a litter will be necessary."
"We can make one," Hawke said, gesturing for Fenris and Bull to follow him back to the copse of trees. They would need wood.
"How did this happen?" Solas asked Dorian.
"We were gathering wood; we were attacked," he said. "She was shot before I even realised what was happening. Our attackers?" Dorian asked Cassandra.
"Bandits, we suspect," she replied. "Likely thought just the two of you made easy pickings. There was no one left alive to ask once Cole was through."
She cast an almost perturbed look towards the tent where Cole was with Holli. Solas had noticed it too. Cole hadn't risen to the levels of obsessive, but there was an undercurrent of something... a little too much intensity. But Solas knew how consuming those first feelings could be. Still, it would pay to keep an eye.
When Hawke and the others had finished with the litter, they carefully shifted her onto it. She was out cold at least. Hopefully she would stay that way until she had been treated.
"It would be better if we took only a small group, so they know we mean no harm," Solas suggested.
Hawke nodded. "You, myself, and I'm guessing Cole will fight to come, and Fenris and Cassandra," he suggested. "We'll need two people to carry the litter; the rest are free to fight should we encounter any more hostility."
With that, they were off, leaving orders for the others to stay put until they returned or sent word.
It was well past nightfall when they finally neared the camp, firelight guiding them. Before they could get close, however, they were approached by scouts, or guards, weapons drawn, arrows trained on them.
Solas spoke, addressing them in elven. He managed to convince them to take them to their Keeper, Hawen.
Keeper Hawen clearly didn't like the look of them and wasn't pleased they were there. He eyed the litter, his gaze fixed on Holli's glowing hand.
"The Herald of Andraste," he noted, unimpressed. "Why bring her here?"
"She was injured," Solas replied. "We have neither the supplies nor another healer with the skill to treat her. We were hoping we could find that here."
"There are rifts near your camp; she won't be able to close them if she's dead," Hawke pointed out.
He sighed but gestured for her to be taken inside the nearest Aravel. It was a tight fit, but they set her down. Solas showed the Keeper where the more urgent wound was. Keeper Hawen used his own magic to assess the injury.
Holli's eyes fluttered open, her face twisting in pain as it crashed over her now conscious body. She started to cry, a soft little whimpering sound coming from her.
"W-what's happening?"
Cole was at her uninjured side, holding her hand delicately. "You're hurt; they'll heal you."
"Drink this," Hawen told her, tilting her head up so she could drink the concoction. It took a few moments for her eyes to slide closed again and sleep to take her.
Hawen looked to Solas. "You'll be assisting?"
Solas nodded, and then Hawen ordered everyone else out so they could work.
--
When Holli awoke the next day, she was groggy and hazy from the elixir she had been given to drink. Hawen had let her stay in the aravel for the night; the rest of them had camped outside. With the exception of Cole. He had stayed awake to keep an eye on Holli. It was unnecessary, but it was clear he was still terrified something bad would happen to her. He acted as something of a guard dog. And clearly felt responsible for not being there when she was hurt.
"Holli?" Cole asked.
She looked at him, a faint smile playing at her lips when she saw him. She reached up with her uninjured side, booping his nose. He gently took hold of her hand, resting her fingers against his lips.
"Are you in too much pain?" He whispered, doing his utmost not to disturb even the very air around her.
"No. What happened?" She whispered as well.
"You were shot."
"Why?"
"Because you were there."
"Pricks," she sighed, her eyes sliding closed again.
Cole didn't let her go, his head dropping to rest his forehead against her fingers.
"Are you okay, Cole?" She asked.
"Better now."
"Don't leave?"
"Never."