At his watch Emeryl poked at the fire with an old, withered stick. He couldn't get it off his mind, he was walking with a dead man.
      "Can't sleep?"
      Beside him Prism squatted down, book in hand.
      "What should we tell him?" Emeryl moaned.
      "We should take him back to town, see if the abbot can do anything. It only takes a day to get back, we still have time." Prism replied.
      "But it said there was no cure..." Emeryl sighed.
      "No cure for what?"
      They both spun their heads as Alan impatiently tapped his foot. Prism and Emeryl glanced as each other nervously.
      "The lich..." Emeryl tried to start.
      "The lich queen was poisonous. But there isn't a cure for it." Prism spoke up for Emeryl. Pausing, Alan tinkered with his bandages.
      "How long does that leave me with?" he asked.
      "Two, maybe three days..." Emeryl answered softly.
      "We should head back to town and get the abbot to help." Prism stood up, his oversized coat flowing.
      "No, I'm staying. Three days is enough for a search. I'm going to spend every last minute of it looking for Eric." Alan replied stubbornly.
      "But..."
      "If there's no cure there's no cure. This is the last chance I have. You can go if you want." Alan plopped himself by the fire.
      "I... I'm staying." Emeryl poked more at the fire.
      "You're going to be the death of me..." Prism mumbled and sat by both of them as they solemnly stared into the fire and acknowledged the truth.