I go to the door of the small house and kick at it with my foot.
‘Gwen!’ I yell. ‘I need help!’
It opens a moment later, and a snarling orc peers out angrily. His face changes as he sees me.
'Locke. What are you doing out here at this time of day?'
‘Grim, please,' I say wearily. 'Is Gwen here?'
He moves to the side. 'Of course.'
I bring my human into the warm house. It's light and somehow airy, even though the casements are shut for the night.
'Gwen,' Grim calls into the back, and she appears, her red hair piled high upon her head.
Her eyes widen when she sees us.
'Gods, Locke, what are you doing here? What happened?' she asks.
'It’s Bryn,' I say. 'I don’t know. She was in a faint when I found her. She hasn’t woken. It’s been hours. There’s not a mark on her, but she's so cold.'
'Bring her in here and lay her on the bed.'
I take Bryn into a small chamber, putting her gently on her back on the cot in the corner. Gwen waves her mates away as she uncovers Bryn and glances at me when she sees her state of undress.
I shake my head.
'I found her like that by the river. She was training with the fae today. When she didn’t return with them, Jak, Morgan, and I went in opposite directions to look for her.’
‘You got outside the wards?’ she asks absently as she checks Bryn over.
‘You aren’t the only ones who can when it’s necessary,’ I mutter quietly and she gives me an assessing look much like one that Jak gave me when he also realized I was able to this evening.
I didn’t tell anyone that I could, not even him and Morgan, so I imagine he’s not best pleased. There’ll be a reckoning for it, I’m sure. But I can’t worry about that now. Bryn’s safety is more important. I’m just glad I knew where the evening run finishes each day.
'I'll bring some blankets, but you should…' She glances at me. 'Take off your tunic and shirt.'
'Why?' I ask.
'She needs heat. You’re hotter than I am. Your body will have more of it to give her than mine. Unless you'd like Drakar or Grim to do it.'
The snarl that rises from my throat makes her give me a wry grin.
'So, she is something to you,' she says.
'She's mine,' I snarl.
'Then help her.'
I do as Gwen says, and I cuddle Bryn's cold body, wrapping us in the thick coverlet. When she begins to warm, her eyes flutter, and she lets out a weak cry of pain.
'It's all right,’ I tell her. ‘You're safe. Everything's all right.'
But when I try to move her, she cries out in agony.
'What is it?' Gwen asks, coming into the room. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘My—My back and my leg,’ she whimpers weakly. ‘My stomach.’
