I should wrap his ankle, maybe give him a makeshift splint to make it easier to get around. I should probably clean his feet, too, since they were all cut up and callused.
They were such small feet, and they’d carried him all the way to me.
Everything about him might be small, but he was far from weak. He had an unwavering strength in his bones and a wild tenacity in those pretty eyes.
He’d kill me in a heartbeat if I let him.
It was easy to see he’d been through something. Had lived a certain way—or been forced to live a certain way. No one would wear a collar and muzzle voluntarily.
But what did I know of the world? The last person I’d been around was my dad, and that was five years ago.
It had been five years since we’d gone out looking for medical supplies—and only one of us had come back.
I missed him every single day, but it was the guilt that festered in my soul that was hardest to bear.
He’d developed a cough that just wouldn’t go away no matter what we did or how much time passed. Bruises that made no sense would show up on his body, and he was tired. Real tired, every day, no matter how much sleep he got. He was getting weaker and weaker, his cough worsening with each passing day.
I told him I’d go out and look for something that might help him. I was grasping at straws, desperate for any kind of solution, helpless to find one.
I didn’t want to let go of that final shred of hope, though.
There had to be something out there that could help him.
The day I set out, he told me he was coming with me.
I wasn’t one to get angry, but that day the frustration with his stubborn nature got the best of me. I yelled at him, but he just looked at me with sad eyes and smiled. He was coming with me whether I liked it or not, and if I refused to go, he’d just go by himself.
I wasn’t happy about it, but I couldn’t stop him. So we went hiking down the mountain, through the forest, until we got to the crumbling ruins of one of the nearby towns.
It was there I’d found Luna and lost my dad.
I’d heard quiet whimpering from inside a collapsed building, and I hadn’t been able to turn away. I told him I’d be gone for just a minute.
And I was. But a minute was all it took.
The infected had come out of nowhere; I had to watch a wave of them crash over him. He disappeared from sight, but his screams…
I shook my head.
There was no point in thinking about that right now.
I studied the boy with the fire in his eyes, wondering where I’d messed up to make him try and cut himself like that.
He’d been ready to kill himself.
Why? Because of me? Or because I’d locked his chain to the pillar? But that was only for his own safety. Damn it, should I not have done that? His reaction only gave more credence to the theory that he’d escaped from some kind of cruel imprisonment. If the scarring around the collar and muzzle were any indication, he’d been wearing them for a long time.
Whatever I’d done had made him want to scrape that glass down his arm.
That thought made me unbearably sad. I needed to be a lot more careful around him. He was so afraid of me he thought death was a better option.
I refused to let him die.
His skin was hot—everywhere—and I was certain he had a fever. I found a wooden ruler in the storage room to use as a splint, and tied that to his calf, wrapping gauze around and around and then down under the heel of his foot.
All the while, he slept, the steady rise and fall of his chest a reassuring sight.
I pulled the blanket up to his sternum, just below the bandage, took one last look at him, then headed out. I left the low light on in case he woke up and got scared in the pitch black; none of these rooms had any natural light, and I wanted him to be able to see his way out in case he needed anything.
