Toren swiped a hand over his face and let out a soft groan. “Um, someone to find my hunting guide card and make sure it’s still valid, because I’m a dumbass and should have better watched my footing.”
I chuckled softly. “Accidents happen to everyone.” I wagged a finger at him. “Even those with lots of training.” Ducking through the doorway, I grasped the zipper. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Please be careful. I’ll come after you—somehow—but it’ll take me a long time to reach you.”
The first shudder of unease worked its way through my body as it hit me just how remote we were and just how much trouble we could be in if something happened to me as well. “I will.”
“Follow the same path we took to get back, so I know where to look if you don’t return.”
I nodded. “Give me a couple hours before you come looking.” With a quick zip, I shut the tent flap most of the way, then picked up a long stick and shoved it into the fire, stirring it back to life. I added a couple more pieces of wood, then put the poker stick off to the side and stepped back into the rain.
Chapter 10
Toren
The tent flap zipped shut behind Lana with a soft snick, leaving me alone with the snap of the nylon tent wall flapping in the wind and the soft crackle of the fire outside.
I sat there for a moment, letting my mind and body process what just happened. Now that I was stationary and safe, the pain I’d been feeling had increased two-fold and shown up in areas that hadn’t hurt on the rocks.
My chest felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it—but I could breathe without too much pain, so that was promising. My ankle throbbed beneath the wrap Lana put on it, and two of the fingers on my left hand now told me something wasn’t right with them.
I decided to deal with them first. I pulled the glove off my right hand with my teeth, then slowly, removed the glove from my left. A quick hiss of air escaped my clenched teeth as the heavy fabric slid off my hand.
With the glove off, I could see the damage. My ring finger and my pinky were both swollen and turning a lovely shade of deep purple between the first and second knuckles, and the tip of my pinky was slightly askew.
“Well, shit,” I muttered. The pinky was dislocated as well as probably broken.
I curled my fingers but only made it a fraction of an inch before a shard of white-hot fire raced through them and down the back of my hand.
Not doing that again.
Taking several deep breaths, I dug around in Lana’s pack until I found a small flashlight. With a click of the button on the end, the light turned on, and I shone it on my hand to get a good look at it in the tent’s dim interior. My pinky nailbed was a little paler than I liked. Likely, the displaced bones were pinching off blood flow. It needed straightened.
Oh, I didn’t want to do this.
Muscles in my jaw shifted as my teeth clenched at the thought of how much fixing the dislocation would hurt.
“Just get on with it, McCrae,” I muttered.
Sitting here, moaning about it wouldn’t fix the problem and would only delay the pain. Hell, fixing it might actually make it feel a little better.
I set the flashlight down and cupped my right hand over the outside of my left one, hovering millimeters away. Inhaling a deep breath, I grasped my finger and pulled.
“Ah, fuck!” The words came out on a harsh shout and ended on a groan. Pulses of pain throbbed through my hand for several seconds. Sweat popped out on my face, then slowly, the pain ebbed. Heat poured into the end of my pinky, making it throb in a different way.
I glanced at it, then shone the light on it again. It wasn’t as pale as before.
Thank. God. The pain had been worth it.
Digging into the med kit, I found some tape and tore a strip off and buddy-taped my fingers together near the base, then didthe same closer to the top. It wasn’t perfect or ideal, but it would do for now.
With my hand taken care of, I stripped out of my jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at my ribcage. That pain, thankfully, had lessened since I got up from the rocks, giving me hope it was just a terrible bruise.
Lifting my left arm a bit, I slid my good hand under my shirt and pushed the fabric over my elbow and slipped my arm free, being careful of my bandaged fingers. With the left side of my chest exposed, I shone the light on myself and looked down.
Like my fingers, dark purple bruising mottled my skin.
Gingerly, I probed the area. The sharp sting of a deep bruise erupted at my touch, but I couldn’t feel anything deeper shift or crunch.
