The Darkness Beyond the Stars

Chapter Fourteen: I almost mess up all Raon's nice stitching

I buried my face in his shoulder. "I thought you were dead."

His arms tightened and I cried out as my arm pressed against my side.

He stepped back instantly. "You're hurt!"

I looked down. My whole side was covered with dark that reflected in the firelight.

His hands moved over me, trying to find the source of the blood.

"Lilya..."

"My arm. And side." I slid to the ground. Blood stained Raön's shirt. I looked at it curiously. The world seemed to twist, hold still. So much blood. Blood, blood, blood.

A sharp pain in my arm jerked the world back into its place.

Raön had bound my arm up, and was holding my face. "You have to stay awake."

I tried to focus on his face. "I'm awake. How bad is it?"

He didn't answer or let go, but pressed his forehead to mine. I felt more tears prick my eyes, and drew a shuddering breath.

Then he drew back. "We need to leave. I can't stitch your wounds here. We'll go back to the cabin; I have thread there. Then we need to leave. Go back to the castle."

I nodded, and he slid his arms under me, picking me up gently. I hesitated, then wrapped my arms around his neck.

He walked away from the camp, and I watched from over his shoulder as the fire slowly faded from view. Every move he made shifted the skin on my side until the stinging was unbearable. I stared up. The trees reached high up to the sky, pointing to the blaze of stars above. They were scattered everywhere, shining red and blue and gold, so far away, though they seemed close enough for the army of trees to reach them.

I gazed on them in wonder. They seemed to move, to swirl and dance, stepping to a song only heard in the heavens.

........

Raön lengthened his strides. Lilya was staring up at the stars, her dark eyes wide. He pushed away the thoughts that still haunted him, of finding her dead, throat cut, eyes empty, brilliant red spread around her.

She was alive. Why he cared, he wasn't going to think about that now. Her being dead would have made lots of things more easier.

His hand supporting her side was becoming slippery with blood, and he held her closer. He could feel more of it coming from a gash along her ribs. It ran over his fingers, coating them. All the men who had kidnapped her were dead, so he had no one else to exact revenge on. Rage still burned inside his chest. He had seen them kick her, hit her, try to kill her. When he had cut the ropes from her wrists, they were raw and red.

They were lucky he had killed them quickly.

He moved faster, ducking under branches and stepping over roots. He hadn't had to travel far before he'd smelled the smoke from the fire, and seen it flickering through the trees. So it wasn't long before he saw the lake and the cabin.

He sprinted the last stint along the shore, then raced up the steps and kicked the door open. Setting her on the bed, he ran and brought his pack into the room.

Lilya was pale. So pale, it felt like his heart stopped. He pulled out a pair of scissors, and started working.