The sun is just beginning to set, its fading light casting long shadows in the small clearing. I carefully set her down, helping her lean against a thick tree trunk.
“Drink.” I hold the canteen to her lips, and she gulps down the water in heaving mouthfuls. “Easy,” I murmur, tracking the glassiness in her eyes. A heavy weight compresses my lungs. Mychest feels tight, like it did when Faramir once wielded mounds of packed dirt on me as a prank and left me there. I was trapped for hours until Lev found me and brought Mother.
“I’m going to break the shaft before I remove the arrow,” I tell her. “Then you can heal yourself.”
She nods weakly, wincing through the pain.
I brace the shaft against my palm.
“Hold still.”
A muted crack. Mayah’s breath escapes in sharp pants, her eyes clenched tight. I find her hand and squeeze, lacing our fingers together.
When her breathing slows, I lift her tunic over the shortened shaft, tucking it around her ribs.
My heart stops.
The bloody gash is inflamed, arrowhead almost completely embedded. With every shallow breath, blood trickles from the edges of the wound.
“Does it look bad?” she pants. “Because it hurts like a bitch.”
“It’s only a scratch,” I say, forcing my mouth into a faint smile, even as panic claws at my ribs. “You’re just a baby.” I’m not sure if she believes me.
I hand her the leather sheath from my dagger for her to bite down on. My fingers skim her ribs before bracing my palm against her sternum.
I find her dull, blue gaze.
“Ready?”
“Just do it,” she mumbles around the leather.
I yank the arrow from her flesh, staunching the flow of blood with a heavy press of my palm. Mayah moans in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. The sound of her agonized whimper breaks something loose inside me.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I murmur, covering her wound with a piece of cloth. “Hold this.” I press her hand over the wound. Idon’t want to leave her, not like this, not with tears of pain still dampening her cheeks, but I need to refill the canteen.
I return minutes later from a nearby stream, tipping water into her mouth, along with a few berries I found along the way.
My hands cover hers over the wound, and I pull her back against my chest, holding her until her breathing steadies. Even then, I refuse to let go. If the arrow had hit her heart…
I’d come so close to losing her.
She’s not yours to lose, an unwelcome thought whispers.
I swallow hard, arms tightening around her.
Right now, she is.
Right now, she’s mine to protect.
“Thank you,” she rasps. “I think I can heal myself.”
She closes her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. Her body tenses, a look of confusion crossing her face.
Her eyes scrunch tight again, before snapping open.
She pulls away from my chest, swaying as she sits up, panic etched across her features.
“What’s wrong?”
