The pained yells crescendo until I can barely hear myself ask, “What is that?”
Fox’s answer never comes. Instead, three figures materialize at the camp’s edge—armor dented, faces grim, bodies slick with what can only be blood. One staggers under the weight of a fourth man slung across his shoulders. Obviously he’s the source of all the screaming.
Kai darts over to the returning hunting party, Fox a half-step behind him. I chase after them, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
The man carrying the wounded soldier sinks to his knees, lowering his burden with surprising gentleness onto the trampled snow.
The wounded figure convulses with another piercing cry, I crane my neck for a clearer view, and my heart stutters mid-beat.
It’s Gunnar.
My hands warm with magic, my fingers tingling as I take a pointed step toward the crowd forming around Gunnar.
Like he knew what I was thinking, Fox reaches for my arm and tries to pull me back. I ignore him, yanking my arm free before he can get a good grip on me, and taking another step toward the screaming, writhing boy.
Fox wraps an arm around my waist, and yanks my entire body forcibly back. My feet leave the ground, and I kick out widely, clawing at his forearm with my nails. “Let me go!”
“There’s nothing you can do,” he replies under his breath.
“Yes, there is!” I snap, not caring that the entire crowd can probably hear us.
Fox’s arm clamps around my waist like iron as he hauls me backward, my boots leaving furrows in the bloodstained snow. “Let go!”
His breath burns hot against my ear. “Don’t.”
I jerk my chin toward Gunnar’s trembling form. The boy’s eyes are rolling up into his head, blood bubbling at his lips with each rattling breath.
Fox’s fingers tighten, bruising. “Not. Here.” His jaw ticks beneath taut skin, gaze darting to the watching wolves.
“But—”
He lifts me off my feet and strides almost all the way to the opposite side of the camp before dropping me again.
“One more hunt,” he hisses before I can get a single word out. “That’s all you’d buy him by getting involved.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. He’s not strong enough for this.”
“I thought you liked him. You helped him train, remember?” I ask shrilly.
Fox winces. “I know. Don’t you think I fucking wish it wasn’t like this?”
I jut out my chin defiantly. “Then let me help.”
“No! You save his life today, and he’ll just bleed out from a different wound tomorrow. The only fucking difference is they’ll burn your body right alongside his.”
We stand frozen, our ragged breathing the only sound between us as the screams from across the camp grow weaker. Soon, they’ll cut off altogether into a silence more terrible than any noise.
“I don’t care,” I hiss, and before Fox can stop me I yank my arm from his grip and dash back to the center of camp.
Almost the entire camp is crowded around Gunnar, and I have to push my way to the front. He’s even quieter, hispained groans little more than gasps. I quickly kneel beside him, assessing his injuries.
It’s worse than I could have ever imagined.
His stomach looks as if it’s been carved open, probably by some enormous creature’s razor sharp talons. It couldn’t have helped to be carried back to camp so roughly, and I nearly gag when I see the bubbling blood and churning of his insides.
Healing is not my strongest ability, it would really be better if I could give Gunnar one of my potions, but they’re back in the tent and I don’t think I have time to get them.
