Page 40 of Dream Reaper

What about me?

“You don’t count. I’m stuck with you,” Dragon grumbled. “Meat Pasty, on the other hand… She could go away if she wanted to.”

He found himself growing very tired, very tired indeed. He was a little tempted to let Jerrid have control again…not because he wanted to be shoved back into the darkness, but so that he could watch and laugh from the quietness of the darkness.

It was peaceful there, in the back of Jerrid’s mind, almost like a cocoon.

And just like that, he drifted away…

Jerrid opened his eyes, staring up at the snarl of dark branches above him. Every bone in his body ached. What had Dragon been doing while he was in control? It felt like he had rolled down a cliff and beat himself with a giant hammer for good measure.

He groaned.

“Ah, so he let you come back.” Ava’s voice sounded stilted, almost embarrassed. “You best roll over and lie still until I find you something to, um, well… You’re going to need something.”

Heat flooded his face, and he shoved himself over. The damp grass and foul-smelling soil pressed against his feverish body. Blood and gore from the wyrm slicked his skin.

“Don’t worry. I’m not looking.”

He grunted. Not that he could do anything about it if she was looking.

Dragon snickered in the quiet of his mind, but it sounded weak.

He must have overexerted himself fighting that wretched wyrm. Jerrid longed to get up and make sure that he had done the job right and proper…but he didn’t dare move. Several long minutes passed before footsteps stirred the grass. Ava walked toward him with a blanket from his satchel held up in front of her, her face hidden behind it.

“Don’t step on me,” he warned when she got close.

She stopped and hurled the blanket before turning quickly away. She overshot a little bit so that the blanket fell over his lower legs. But Jerrid reached back and snatched it up, quickly wrapping it around himself. He cinched the top under his arms and tucked the end in to try and hold it in place.

When he turned around, Ava was seated beside Brynja again.

“Is she still alive?” Jerrid asked, moving to kneel beside them.

“Yes, and she’s coming around.”

A muscle twitched in the girl’s cheek, a pained sort of expression tugging at her face. Her hand lifted slowly to grapple with Ava’s fingers pressed against her head. At last, her eyes flickered open.

Her gaze collided with Jerrid’s. “What happened?”

He grimaced. “That rootwyrm gave you a beating, that’s what. She knocked you into a tree. You’ve got a bloody gash on your head. No, don’t try to pull away. Ava’s trying to stop the bleeding.”

Brynja’s mouth twisted as if she’d just tasted something foul. “I don’t need her help.”

“You’ll have it all the same if you want to make it back to your camp,” Ava said brusquely. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re going to need help getting home.”

Clearly, this didn’t make the girl happy. “What about the wyrm?”

“It’s dead.”

“And…was there a dragon? I seem to remember a dragon…” Uncertainty tainted the lass’s tone, and she stared hard at Jerrid in a way that made him squirm. “Why are you wearing a blanket?”

His cheeks heated as he exchanged a look with a smirking Ava. “My clothes, ah, got shredded. I’m going to need to borrow something. I haven’t anything left in my pack.”

“Didn’t you bring spare clothes?”

Jerrid hesitated, not wanting to answer that question because he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

“They got shredded too,” Ava said, a little too glibly.