Page 44 of Into The Green

I nodded, dropping it back down. "You ready?" I asked, every muscle in my body tense with the knowledge that whether or not I was ready, I had to do it.

Jasper snorted a little. "If I could tolerate receiving the damage in the first place, I can take your ministrations."

I picked up some water, carefully pouring it over his exposed wrists. His breath hissed out of him, but his arms stayed steady. "What should I use on these?"

"Mostly yarrow," he said, jaw tight. "A little lavender and chamomile, but mostly yarrow. Like we did with your feet."

My feet. God, it felt like ages ago that I had even given them any thought. There was still the dull ache of my bruised ribs and the throbbing in my ankle to think about. At night. When Jasper was taken care of. "Alright," I said, sucking in a breath then flattening the leaves to his skin. His entire body jerked at the contact. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whispered, looking up at Doyle. "We need to keep this in place."

"Here," he said, ripping off his shirt. "I jumped in the water so it's... cleanish. I can shred it so you can wrap him up." His skin looked green as he did just that and I finished cleaning and wrapping his wrists.

"This isn't so bad," I said, pouring water over the carvings on his chest.

"Guard poured some alcohol on it. We can probably leave it untreated, let it breathe. Doesn't look good, but it's all shallow," he said as I took a breath and moved behind him.

"Oh." The word whooshed out of me before I could stop it and I looked up to find a look of equal horror on Doyle.

His back looked like it had been whipped continuously for hours. The lacerations were almost half an inch deep, caked with dirt, and still bleeding openly. The marks that weren't broken open were blistered painfully.

"I know it's bad," Jasper said, attempting to sound calm and reassuring.

I shook my head even though he couldn't see me and leaned forward to rest my forehead on the small patch of skin on his shoulder that was unmarked. How had he even survived a lashing like that? How could someone do something like that to another person?

An image of Declan flashed into my mind, laughing, mocking, cool, and condescending but overall... normal. Almost human. But only someone truly evil, completely heartless, could do something like that to another. Especially their own child.

"Salt water might be good for the cuts, honey," Jasper said, again trying to comfort me, but his words were strained with the anticipation of treating those awful wounds, "but I don't think you can produce enough tears to do the job. So let's get a rein on that, okay?"

"Cece," Doyle said and I pulled away from Jasper to find him looking so pale that I was seriously worried he might pass out on me.

"It's okay," I said, blinking back the tears. "I get it. Go find something soft he can use as a bed after this."

"Thanks," he said a bit sheepishly as he moved away.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, watching Doyle retreat.

"No," I lied, reaching for the water and a couple yarrow leaves. "It's just a bigger surface is all," I added then, before he could respond or prepare, I poured the water. I needed to get it over with as quickly as possible for both of our sakes. I brushed at the dirt and dust and God-knew what else stuck inside the cuts until they were cleaned.

Jasper stayed silent and stoic despite my urges for him to yell, scream, curse me to high heaven. I had just finished the last cut, low by the waistband of his pants, when Doyle walked back up, huge branches of a tree trailing behind him.

"Maple. I'll pull off the leaves and pile it into a bed. There's nothing out here and I didn't want to travel so far."

It was clean, it was cool, it was relatively soft. And it was all we had. I really couldn't complain.

I looked down at the pile of medicinal leaves with dread. I reached for the rose petals, took a deep breath, and started pressing them into the bleeding wounds. Jasper tolerated it for a long minute before his body and brain gave up and he passed out. His entire body started to slump. "Doyle!" I called, and he came running, kneeling in front of him and holding him up by his arms.

I piled the yarrow thick then put the largest piece of fabric across the area. "Here," I said, getting up and moving around to Jasper's chest, "I'll hold him up while you make the bed."

I held him by his arms, his head on my shoulder and watched Doyle do just that. "Hey Doyle... do you think the yarrow will work?" I asked, my stomach swirling.

Doyle was silent a long moment before looking up and what he gave me was the false cheer and comfort I had tried to give Jasper. "Sure. It worked for your feet, didn't it?"

We placed him on his side on his makeshift bed and Onyx laid down behind his legs, a massive form preventing him from rolling onto his sore back. I took the last of the water and tried, quite unsuccessfully, to wash the blood from my hands.

"I can't believe you didn't puke."

"Me either," I confided. "I don't have a strong stomach for that kind of thing, but it just needed to be done." He was shuffling anxiously. "If you need something to do, we're going to need fresh dressings later. And water, food, everything. We won't be moving for a while."

"You'll be alright here?"