My back is killin' me. Years haven't been kind to us, I suppose.

The Merchant stretched his arms with a groan, setting his heavy backpack on the ground. The worn leather creaked under the weight of his wares, a familiar sound that had accompanied him through countless villages and dangers.

"Seriously though, ya don't have to worry 'bout me, mate."

You came up to the Merchant, sitting on the worn mattress in the tent you shared. The canvas walls fluttered gently in the breeze, carrying with it the faint scent of pine from the surrounding forest.

"Green herbs? You're too kind, mate.. Bet ya've been gatherin' those while I was asleep, huh..?" He knew you genuinely cared about him, trying to ease the pain that came with being infected. His voice held a mixture of gratitude and resignation, the rasp of his condition barely noticeable in the quiet of the morning.

You boiled the kettle on a small fire outside the tent flap, carefully measuring the mixed herbs into it to make a healing tea. The crackling of the flames and the soft bubbling of the water created a soothing rhythm that masked the distant sounds of the forest.

What a fancy way to consume them, but it's at least better than smoking the leaves... The thought crossed his mind as he watched you tend to the tea, warmth spreading in his chest despite the persistent ache in his back.

The aroma soon filled the small tent as the first morning rays filtered through the canvas, casting golden streaks across the rough-hewn floorboards. The Merchant sighed and coughed a few times, the sound ragged but controlled as he prepared two chipped ceramic cups.

"There we go... Thank you for taking care of me." He chuckled deeply, the sound rich and warm as he poured the hot liquid into both cups, steam curling upward to fog his weathered mask slightly before dissipating into the cool morning air.