She shakes her head slightly, grimacing. “N-no, not here. There c-could be others.”
I know she’s right. More blood on top of this carnage will only attract more beasts. The best course of action is to find shelter before the night’s cold overwhelms us.
“Hold on to me,” I tell her, lifting her up into my arms.
Jyn groans against my chest, her head lolling to one side as sweat breaks out across her forehead. Her breathing is ragged, her complexion too pale. Jyn mentioned once that she heals quicker than most, but what happens if she bleeds out faster than even her magic can repair? I need to remove the arrow as soon as possible, but first I must find us someplace safe.
I venture deeper into the ravine, the air growing colder by the second. There’s no sound down here, and barely any light. I can’t tell if the pain I feel is my own, or if it is Jyn’s that I’m sensing through our thread. Either way, the trek is excruciating.
I almost yell with joy when I find a deep alcove dug into the frigid cliff face. It will serve as a perfect resting point. After setting Jyn down on the ground, I quickly shrug off my winter coat and drape it over her shivering body. What we need now is a source of light.
There’s plenty of tinder—twigs and dry grass and dead weeds—but the stones I use are too damp to spark a light. I grunt in frustration, so broken and beaten down that I find myself on the brink of tears.
“I wish we could breathe fire,” I curse under my breath. “Gods, please just—”
A spark finally arcs, catching on the leaves. The tiniest of flames grows and grows. With a relieved sigh, I throw on a few more sticks. Before long, it’s a strong campfire, casting shadows against the alcove and slowly warming the air around us.
“I did it!” I gasp.
“Huzzah,” Jyn grumbles dryly. She can barely keep her eyes open.
I kneel at her side, carefully inspecting her wound. The whole area is red and swollen. Removing the arrowhead will be no simple task.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Are you sure we can’t leave it in?”
“Be brave, my lady.”
Her bottom lip trembles, fear etched into the weary features of her face. “All right,” she murmurs. “You’ll h-have to use the arrow to cauterize the wound.”
I do my best to look brave. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
Jyn takes a deep breath, grinding her teeth as I grasp the shaft of the arrow. She swallows her screams as I dig the weapon out, her body trembling and seizing, her distress lashing out across our connection. It takes every ounce of concentration I have not to stop, not to break down from seeing her this way.
I eventually manage to free the arrowhead, and I waste no time in holding it out over the flame. The metal turns red with the heat, ready for the next phase. I give Jyn a hesitant glance, at which she only nods.
When I press the searing metal to her flesh, tears flow freely from her eyes, but she doesn’t make a sound. My wretched work is over in a matter of seconds. I drop the arrow and pick her up, seating her across my lap so that I can hold her close. I rock her gently back and forth, pressing kisses against her temples, her cheeks, her hair. It’s the only way I can think to apologize, because words are not enough.
It’s a small comfort when her eyes flutter shut. As she dreams, I remain on guard, silently reeling at what has come to pass.
If I’m going to protect Jyn, I must become so much stronger.
No matter the cost.
32
Sai?”
The caress of cool fingers against my cheek pulls me from my light slumber. Soft morning light filters down into the ravine. I sit up immediately, heart racing as a sudden shot of adrenaline courses through me.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, reaching out to brush away a few strands of her loose hair.
“Better, thanks to you.”
“I’m overjoyed to hear it, my sunshine.”
“We should leave soon. The huntress may still be searching for us.”
