Because if it didn’t, she’d scream.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. It was the first thing she’d said in… too long. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to.”
Her voice caught in her throat as his chest took a littletoolong to rise. “You have to come back.” She brushed a curl of hair off his forehead. “I won’t leave your side.”
She wanted to curl into him, to feel his warmth and his breath and his laughter as he told her how silly she was being. As he made a joke that made her want to slap himandkiss him. “I love you.” She tried not to let her sobs escape, but the panic was suffocating her.
Time lost all meaning as she sat there, counting the moments between each breath, praying that his lungs would keep expanding.
The bleeding had slowed dramatically, and she was able to use what was left of their water and a piece of one of their spare shirts to gently dab as much of the mess away as possible.
The moon was high in the sky; the air chilled as the night blanketed over their tent.
And yet her heart still beat erratically.
Gwen sat beside him, legs curled to her chest, cheek pressed against her knee as she watched vigilantly.
His chest still rose and fell.
52
Hours passed, and she remained frozen in place. She couldn’t feel any aches in her bones. There was nothing but worry and fear.
But… after a while.
Just a flicker.
A flutter of his eyelids.
“Gwen?” She could have easily mistaken his voice for the wind, had she not been glued to his side.
“I’m here, I’m here.” She sobbed, lurching forward to look at him. “I’m here.”
His lashes fluttered again — and then he winced.
She caught his face between her hands, her thumbs trembling as they brushed over his clammy cheeks. “You’re safe. You’re alive.” Her voice broke on the last word.
His brow furrowed faintly, like even that was too much effort. His mouth moved without sound for a second, then finally, he spoke again. “I didn’t… go anywhere.”
A laugh escaped her. Or maybe a sob. They sounded the same to her ears now.
“Guinevere,” He croaked, trying to shift.
“Stop, stop, stop.” She pushed gently on his shoulders, keeping him from moving.
“Need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” she said quickly, lacing her fingers through his. “Everything. Always.”
It was several moments before he spoke again, sweat gathering on his brow as he pulled in deep breaths. “There’s a willow. Passed it onour way in.”
“I remember.”
“Take my knife,” He blanched, color draining from his already ghostly face. “Get some bark.”
“I’m not leaving you.” She meant for her words to be stern, but they came out as a whimper instead. “I can’t.”
“Have to,” He squeezed her hand lightly. “The bark is…” Another long pause, another wince. “Medicinal.”
