“Dear gods, Natt,” she choked, reaching out a hand toward him — and then yanking away again, because there was scarcely anywhere left to touch that wasn’t marked by cuts or blood. “Are you all right? What can Ido?”
She could hear the panic rising in her voice, her eyes darting desperately at the trees, the forest. The house was a good distance away now, perhaps a half-hour’s walk, perhaps she could run back home, find a physician, bring help here —
“Ach, I shall heal,” came Natt’s hoarse voice, though he winced as he spoke. “I only must — wrap this.”
He gave a shaky wave toward his still-bleeding thigh, still with his other hand clamped onto it, and Ella blanched at the sight of the sticky, pooling blood, the smell of it thick and pungent in her nostrils. And what in the gods’ names could they wrap it with, and she frantically glanced all about them, and then down at her own shift — but even as she grasped at the ragged hem, about to tear it, Natt gave another jerky wave, this time toward the tree Ella had been hiding in. Or rather, toward his pack and water-skin, which were both on the ground beneath it, propped neatly against the trunk.
Ella accordingly rushed over to grab for them, and then ran back, yanking the pack open. And there, sitting innocuously folded on top, was the old hideous dress she’d been wearing earlier. Still bearing a highly distinctive, musky scent, and — Ella couldn’t help a wince — still very wet.
But there were yards of fabric, some of it still clean and dry, and Ella made quick work of it, tearing it into long, thick strips. And then, as Natt silently gestured, his breaths coming harsh and short, she wrapped a makeshift bandage around his bloody thigh over his trousers, and tied it as tightly as she possibly could. Even so, the blood was already pooling through it, staining thick and red, and at his trembly wave she tied on another strip, and another.
Her hands were numb and chilly by this point, horribly stained with Natt’s sticky red blood, and once she had finished, and leaned back to look at him, she felt the panic start to rise again. What the hell was she supposed to do with him, he needed help, he couldn’t possibly function like this —
But then, as she stared, Natt shoved himself onto his good knee — and from there he somehow leapt up onto that foot, in a quick, agile movement that must have taken a shocking amount of strength. And one that had clearly caused him pain, his breath wheezing, and Ella again rushed toward him, barely making it in time for him to lean his weight, hard, against her shoulder.
“Ach,” he said, his voice thick. “Should you help me to the old c-cave, lass, I sh-should be g-grateful.”
His teeth were actually chattering, the pain again spasming across his face, and Ella frantically nodded. The cave. Of course. It was another old haunt of theirs, a deep, low-ceilinged cleft in a cliff of jagged rock, and it was close by, near a brook, and not easily detectable from outside. So Ella slung Natt’s pack over her shoulder, and then gingerly slid an arm around his sticky, sweaty waist, so he could better lean against her.
“Okay?” she asked, and in reply he grimaced, and grasped his arm around her shoulder. The sudden weight was almost enough to buckle Ella’s knees, but she remained upright, and once Natt seemed stable, she started moving in the direction of the cave.
It was slow, tedious going — Natt could scarcely put any weight on his bad leg, and while Ella chose the easiest possible paths, the terrain was still tricky and uneven, and his body against her felt heavier and heavier with every plodding step. But there was no thought of stopping or complaining, only the desperate, surging need to get him somewhere hidden, somewhere safe.
After what felt like hours, they finally reached the cave, still tucked away where it had always been, close against what they’d always called Chilly Brook. And once Ella had eased Natt down toward the low entrance, he very slowly knelt and crawled his way inside, dragging his injured leg behind him.
Ella only had to duck under the edge — the ceiling inside was perhaps up to her shoulders — and she helped guide Natt’s trembly, sweaty bulk down onto the cave’s stone floor. And as he lay back upon it, his big bloody body flinching at the impact, it was like something had finally broken in Ella’s thoughts, the wetness prickling hot and close behind her eyes.
“What thehellwas that, Natt,” she choked out, without at all meaning to. “Whydidn’t you leave me in the tree, and run away. Or kill them!”
It should have been shocking, to hear those murderous words roll so easily from her tongue — but she could only seem to blink at Natt’s bloody, pained face. Watching his mouth grimace, his black tongue coming out to lick at his bloody split lip.
“I could not kill them,” he said finally, his glazed eyes briefly closing, his voice raspy and thick. “We have all sworn never to raise a blade against a man, and thus risk this new peace, and start another war.”
What? “Not even asdefense?” Ella demanded, and Natt gave another grimace that clearly meant, no. And gods curse him, he’d all but sacrificed himself to keep the peace treaty, while those assholes had tried tomurderhim in violation of it, and Ella gave a bracing shake of her head, tried to think. “Then why didn’t you run,” she snapped. “You could have escaped soeasily, Natt!”
But there was a jerky movement of his head that was, again, saying no. “The dogs,” he croaked. “If I had run, they should have next found my scent all overyou.”
All over her. Ella stared at him, fully about to demand what the hell that had to do with anything — but then she followed that truth where it led. If the dogshadfound Natt’s scent on her, and Natt himself gone, what would the men have done? Would they have insisted upon —checkingher, like Byrne had said?Sorting her out?
And then, surely — Ella gave a convulsive shudder — they would have reported their findings to her mother, and toAlfred. Your daughter was found full of orc-seed in the woods. Your betrothed was fucked by an orc.
And even if Ella had claimed it wasn’t by her choice, it would without question still have been the sudden, certain end of her betrothal. It would have been the end of her and Alfred, forever. The end of her inheritance, and her home. All her dreams, dashed, irrevocably, in one single fatal blow.
And Natt hadknown. He’d sought to protect her. Even going so far as — Ella’s breath choked, the vision of it flashing bright behind her eyes — to place his own things at the base of the tree he’d put her in, to better hide her smell.
Ella’s breath felt locked in her throat, her already-painful hands scraping at the stone beneath her knees. “They might havekilledyou, Natt,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that. Not forme.”
Natt didn’t reply, but for the thick heaviness of his breaths, and looking down at him, Ella suddenly found that she was very close to weeping. He’d clearly thought he’d had to do that — and did that mean he had truly been going to let her go, too? Would he have let her run back home, after all? ToAlfred?
“I thought you wanted vengeance,” she heard her wavering voice say. “Against Alfred.”
“I do wish for this,” Natt said, his voice almost a whisper. “But against him. Not —you, lass.”
Ella could only blink and stare at him, at how every heaving breath looked like pain. “I did not follow,” his hoarse voice continued, “how deeply you wished for this. For — him. For this life, away from me, where you think you are real. I did not wish to leave you, and destroy this for you, for always.”
Oh. The words seemed to slice deep and powerful in Ella’s chest, breaking her wide, baring her whole. Away from Natt, where she wasreal, and he’d been willing todiefor that. Forher. And Ella’s head was wildly shaking, the misery rising, the panic swerving, he couldn’t, she couldn’t, no, nono—
But before she could turn, escape, run away, there was a low, heavy sigh from Natt’s mouth, emptying his chest. And then — Ella stared, choked, fought not to scream — his eyes fluttered closed, and he was still.
