"It's been a few days since he's been out. What do we do?"
Talan, the tank, stood at the edge of Moon's medical bed with his massive arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He had spent most of the past three days rotating through the medical wing on his off-shifts, checking in on Moon even when he had no reason to be there.
Rowan sighed.
He was seated in a chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. His eyes rested on Moon's peaceful face. For the first time in his life, Rowan didn't have a next step to offer.
Moon's condition had improved since Kellan had found him at the gate.
The purple discoloration around his mouth had faded and his skin had regained its normal color.
His body was no longer in immediate danger of collapse. The healers had reported that his vital signs were stabilizing on their own without external intervention.
But he hadn't woken up.
