Last time he agreed to go to the clinic, he'd been shoved over the lip of the fountain by a cow, and had wanted to know what supplies might be easily stolen on his way out of the village. When nothing makes sense, it's easier to fall back on habits than ask for answers.

And when someone says you've been struck by lightning, and your chest hurts--you consent to a little medical attention.

"Sure," he says, sucking the next breath slow through his teeth to see if it makes any of him feel better. Not really, but nothing seems worse for scooting himself out from under a tree. There's a series of branches very helpfully fallen back into place, to pull on as he gives standing a go. "Kind of dizzy," seems like a thing to tell his new doctor. "Keep an eye, on the way. Came out looking for those fungal pods, better if we know we need that lichen while we're still breathing."