'Did the flame share itself?' Han Yu wondered. 'Or did Chitterfang… absorb it?'
He had no precedent for something like this. He had read countless texts, handled strange flames in alchemy, refined dangerous materials, and even survived many catastrophes, yet nothing he had learned explained this situation cleanly.
In the end, he shook his head.
"Later," he decided. "I'll figure this out later."
Right now, the fact that Chitterfang was breathing steadily and that neither of them were in pain was enough. Whatever had happened, it had not harmed them. That alone placed it firmly in the category of future problems.
And future problems were infinitely better than present death.
With that settled, Han Yu's attention shifted to the next pressing question.
Time.
"How long was I out?" he muttered.
There was no direct way to tell. He had no sun cycle to reference, no markings, no reliable internal sense of elapsed time after passing out multiple times.
He looked around instead.
