The moment Henry was inside and lit up by the fire in the stove, Irene's guilt seemed to bloom as she saw her husband with sweat at the edges of his forehead once his hood was removed. Not only that, his normally bronze skin was paler than usual.
Wordlessly, she grabbed his hand and brought him to the bed so that he could lie down.
As he started to remove his own clothing, she stopped him. "Let me," she insisted.
Despite the way her hands ached with each movement and bits of them were starting to grow numb, she did as best as she could to remove his clothing with a clumsy grasp—at least enough so she could see the wound, but he wouldn't be cold. The cabin still hadn't heated up much since their fire had been unlit for so long.
His boots, outer coat, and cloak were removed. It was enough for her to go forward.
