Days stretched on and only Catli’s routine gave Alegan any way to define them in the perpetual candlelit hut.
The first evening he’d awoken, Catli forced a heavy broth down his throat, in defiance of Alegan’s private wish to starve to death. He didn’t share the wish. His healer seemed just as determined to see Alegan whole and on his feet. If he had the energy, he might have walked back out into wilds of the volcano and ignored his body until it withered away to dust.
But every time Alegan turned his face away from the other mage, Catli started to talk about the most ridiculous things. The sentience of the volcano was the first thing Alegan learned Catli believed, and Alegan could not help himself. He argued back that volcanoes weren’t really alive. At some random point in Alegan’s refut
