Broken Aro (The Broken Ones) by Jen Wylie

warmth, the cold came from the stone she rested upon.
    She sat up slowly, wincing as everything still hurt,
and her mind seemed foggy. For a moment she sat very still as everything spun.
Once she found her balance again she looked around in the light of the fire and
was surprised to find herself in a cave.
    Not quite a cave. It looked like water had cut
sections out of rock. Prince had moved them to a ledge. She crawled forward,
looking around. Erosion had left tiers throughout the cave, as well as a series
of small pools and a small flowing stream. To her left she could see the rock
opening to the sea, and a little to the side stretched an opening that led to
the beach. To her right the rock continued, and she stood and followed the
ledge until it ended and she hopped down to a lower one, it did not go far
before she came to a large pool. Above it rose the forest ridge she'd seen
before, a small waterfall gently falling from it.
    She knelt at the pools edge. Her chains clanked and
rattled in the quiet. She certainly wouldn't be sneaking up on anyone anytime
soon. Cupping water with her hands, she drank deeply, wincing as her hands
stung. It wasn't yet dark out, but looked to be getting close. She had more
than enough light to see the backs of her hands, the skin scraped raw and weeping,
cut deeply in a few places. She grimaced and stuck them in the water, swishing
them around, hoping that would be enough to clean them.
    "Aro!"
    She looked up at the sound of her name as it echoed
sharply through the stone.
    "I'm here," she said, more quietly than she
intended, but her voice didn't seem to want to be working.
    He still heard her, as a moment later Prince came into
view, a tight frown across his face. She sat back as he made his way to her
side and bit her lip. Why was he frowning now? She hadn't done anything!
    He crouched down when he reached her and leaned
forward, pressing his cheek to her forehead.
    She pushed him away. "What are you doing?"
    He frowned again. "You've had a fever. I see it
finally broke."
    "Oh." A blush spread across her cheeks.
    He stood suddenly and with more grace than she'd ever have,
slipped along the ledges and around a corner by the pool. How he moved so
gracefully in chains she had no idea. A moment later he came back, arms full.
    She looked at him questioningly as he set down what
looked like a pile of clothes and two large bowl-shaped shells. One nearly overflowed
with something purple and sweet smelling.
    "What's all of this?"
    He held up the bowl with the sweet stuff in it. "Today
I gathered roots, berries, and so forth from the woods." He smiled
slightly. "This should help your wounds."
    She leaned forward to look at the gooey substance. "You
made that?" He nodded. "Do I eat it?"
    He smiled slightly and shook his head.
    He should smile more. It certainly looks much better
than his scowl.
    "I scavenged some cloth. It will likely be
needed. I washed them as well as I could. I believe they are dry now."
    She raised her eyebrows. "You made medicine, and
you did laundry? How long have I been sick for?"
    The frown came back and he looked away, adjusting the
pile of cloth. "We reached shore early yesterday. You succumbed to one of
the sicknesses on the ship I believe. When I woke, you had already become lost in
the fever. Delirious. I did not think you would make it through the night."
    She stared at him, not quite certain what to say. He
looked very uncomfortable, and she wasn't quite sure why. "Thank you,"
she said finally. "For taking care of me."
    He nodded once, sharply. A quick, fake smile crossed
his face. "Well, let me look at your hands."
    She put a hand in his and watched him examine it. He
rinsed it in more water, dabbed at it with a piece of cloth and proceeded to
carefully cover the wounds in a thin layer of the purple mixture.
    "Why didn't you do this earlier?"
    He frowned again. "I did clean them as best I
could." He glanced up at her. "I just finished gathering