Ravyn's Flight (16 page)

“Ravyn?” His hoarse voice brought the tears back.

She knew what he was asking with that one word. “I’m fine. You’re the one who got hurt.” She kept her voice soft, sure he had a huge headache. “Does anything hurt besides your head?”

He frowned and Ravyn guessed he was taking inventory. “No,” he finally answered, “not really.”

“What do you mean ’not really’?” She asked gently, although she couldn’t prevent the tightness in her voice.

“Bruised,” he said, “not hurt.” Damon tried to push himself into a sitting position. “We’ve got to go. Help me up.”

“Are you crazy?” she demanded, forgetting to speak softly. He sat up without waiting for her assistance, although he had to struggle to do it. If he hadn’t already taken a blow to the head, Ravyn would have bopped him for sheer stupidity. “Damon,” she said, trying to remain reasonable, “you’re hurt. We can’t go anywhere yet.”

“Ravyn, he’s close, I can feel it. We have to find a more defensible position. Now help me.”

She frowned, trying to decide what to do. She couldn’t write off his instincts, not when she inexplicably knew things herself. But she didn’t want him moving until they discovered how badly he was injured. Blood still seeped from his wound.

On the other hand, if the killer was close, they were sitting ducks. But was Damon right? He’d taken a hard hit to the head. Ravyn had to make the decision fast because she knew he wouldn’t wait much longer. She stared at him, trying to read his state of mind. What she saw worried her. His eyes seemed to go out of focus frequently and the set of his mouth spoke of pain. Despite all this, Ravyn decided to trust his instincts.

“How many fingers do you see?” she asked, holding up her index finger.

“One. Now can we go?”

Ravyn nodded and crouched beside him. “Lean on me,” she said, slipping an arm around his waist. He did, a little too heavily, and they both ended up sitting in mud. Shifting to her knees, Ravyn took a deep breath and said, “Let’s try again. This time, though, use my shoulders to push yourself up.”

This worked better. Damon made it to his knees before he started swaying precariously. Sweat ran down his face from the effort, and Ravyn bit her lip to keep from saying anything. They stayed that way a few moments as he fought to steady himself.

“Ready?” he asked, eyelids more closed than open.

“Yes.” She spoke aloud because she didn’t think he would see if she nodded.

Ravyn winced, pressing her lips together to keep from gasping. She knew Damon would be appalled if he realized his weight hurt her shoulders. It took him a long time to stand and even then, he kept a tight grip on her. Finally, when she didn’t think she could bear it anymore, the pressure eased. She blinked rapidly a few times to clear the tears from her eyes.

Damon was gray. She kept a hand on him as she rose. When she reached her feet, he slid his left arm across her shoulders. Ravyn took the hint and put her arm around his waist. She waited for him to start walking, unsure if he could move.

Chalk one up for stubborn determination, Ravyn thought as they inched along. He’d instinctively left his right arm free so he could draw the gun if he needed to. She knew, however, he was incapable of protecting them, that it was up to her.

They hadn’t gone far when he started talking. The words were mumbled, but she picked up enough to know he was issuing instructions on what constituted a defendable position. It was a good thing Alex had already taught her this stuff because she never would have figured it from the few words she was able to understand. His slurred speech scared her witless, but she knew Damon wouldn’t let her stop until they’d found a good place to hole up. Ravyn hoped she spotted something soon.

He slipped in and out of awareness. When he lost full consciousness, Ravyn had to support all his weight. More than once, they fell in the mud. Footing was treacherous and Damon was a heavily muscled six foot four. Falling was inevitable.

Hitting the ground always seemed to bring him to his senses. Wordlessly, she’d help him to his feet and they’d continue. Ravyn tried to pay attention to their surroundings, tried to keep her ears open in case the killer closed in. She could only hear their labored breathing and the water dripping from tree leaves. The rain had stopped, but the sun’s return had the area steaming. Weariness left her uncaring that, once again, the two of them were covered in mud from head to toe, front and back.

They continued plodding along, one shaky step after another. Ravyn didn’t know how Damon managed. The thought no sooner registered when, without warning, she had all his weight again. She twisted as they went down so that she took the brunt of the impact. Damon couldn’t afford another bump on the head.

Ravyn couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She didn’t even try. She’d had the wind knocked out of her and two hundred plus pounds of male continued to squeeze the oxygen from her lungs. She closed her eyes and focused on recovery. When she could take in air again, she realized Damon wasn’t moving. Now she panicked. Every other time, he’d been ready to go before she was. Carefully, she rolled him onto his back, one hand bracing his head.

As she looked down at him, Ravyn realized it didn’t matter any longer if they were being tracked, it didn’t matter if she hadn’t found the perfect sanctuary. She’d have to settle for the best position she could find nearby. Damon couldn’t continue. If he wasn’t unconscious, he was close to it. She buried her head in her hands. What if he had a brain aneurysm or a skull fracture? She had no way of knowing and none of the skills necessary to treat either condition.

Getting a grip on herself, she leaned over Damon. Blood still dripped from the gash and Ravyn had to remind herself that head wounds bled a lot. Still, it couldn’t be good for him to have lost as much blood as he had. Some of his hair had fallen into the laceration and Ravyn gently brushed it aside. “Stay with me, Damon,” she murmured. “Don’t leave me by myself.”

She didn’t like the color of his skin beneath the tan, didn’t like the look of the injury, and she hated that he was unresponsive. Ravyn pushed her own hair out of her eyes, uncaring of the mud she deposited there. It didn’t matter what it took, she wasn’t losing him.

*** *** ***

Damon bit back a groan. It felt like someone had buried an ax in his head. He remained still, kept his breathing deep, and tried to ascertain the situation. Something was tied tightly around his head, and he wondered if that was what caused the pain. He didn’t hear or sense anything that alarmed him and slowly he opened his eyes. The dim light could have been either dusk or dawn, but even the weak glow added to his discomfort. He forced himself not to close his eyes, concentrating instead on beating back the pain. He needed to think, had to get his bearings.

Gingerly, his hand brushed the throbbing ache over his left temple. He felt cloth tied around his head and pushed it away before realizing it was his fatigue shirt. Carefully, he touched the wound. His fingers came away sticky with blood.
Oh, yeah.
His memory was spotty, but he remembered telling Ravyn they couldn’t stay where they were. He remembered leaning on her, letting her help him, but he didn’t recall how he’d gotten here.

Ravyn!
Damon sat up. The axe became a sword, stabbing through both temples, and he clenched his hands. His head swam, but he fought it off. He had to locate Ravyn. As his vision cleared, he could see he was under some kind of rock overhang. It wasn’t deep, but it was big enough to offer cover to his entire body. Damon didn’t relax until he spotted Ravyn sleeping at the entrance. The knowledge that she had put herself between him and danger in order to protect him stopped his breath.

He could only see the back of her head and he eased forward, jaw clenched, to get a look at her face. Damon needed to know for sure she was okay. Exhaustion etched her features, despite the mud obscuring his view. Her sleeping countenance touched him, but what squeezed his heart was the sight of the pistol clutched in her hand. Though sound asleep, she hadn’t relinquished her hold.

Even as muddleheaded as he felt, Damon knew better than to startle Ravyn by touching her. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he had to. He needed her to fill him in on what had happened. “Ravyn,” he said, wincing at the noise. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to rouse her and he had to speak louder.

He’d never seen her wake up so quickly before, instantly on alert. And she reacted exactly the way he thought she would, sitting up and taking aim. Luckily, she pointed the pistol out into the forest and not at him. He waited until she finished scanning the area outside the overhang before saying her name again.

“Damon! Are you okay?”

When she turned to him, her face filled with concern, it was all Damon could do to answer. No one, not in his entire life, had ever looked so distressed on his behalf. “Okay is a relative term,” he kept his voice low.

Immediately, she moved to him, zeroing right in on the gash. He could see her anxiety increase as she studied it. She lay the weapon off to the side so her hands were free, and lightly her fingers brushed beneath the cut “What is it?” he asked.

He could see her debate whether or not to worry him. “That wound hasn’t stopped bleeding yet. I put pressure on it for more than an hour last night and finally I tied the shirt around your head hoping that would take care of it, but every time I think I have the bleeding stopped for good, it starts seeping again. I don’t know what else to do.”

Damon closed his eyes briefly. It took all his limited concentration to keep his mind relatively clear. At least he knew now it was early morning. “It’s going to have to be stitched,” he finally said. He watched her face go pale beneath the mud. “Did you clean it out yet?” He wasn’t unsympathetic to her dismay, but there weren’t a lot of options.

“Yes. We don’t have any antibacterial spray or gel so I flushed the wound repeatedly with water. I hope that removed everything.” Ravyn twisted her fingers around each other. She lifted her chin and added almost defiantly, “Warm water. I built a fire and boiled the water to get rid of any bacteria, and when it was cool enough, I used it to clean the cut.”

If the pain hadn’t been pounding at him, he would have smiled. He hadn’t built a fire while they’d been on the run and he could see she worried over his reaction. Damon decided not to comment on it. “Get my vest,” the weakness of his voice was all that kept it from being an order.

Ravyn frowned, but she retrieved the vest from the corner of the overhang and handed it to him. He couldn’t remember exactly which pocket he’d put it in and it took him four tries to locate what he needed. Putting the vest aside, he held out the sealed package. Ravyn took it before she realized he had passed her a suture kit. “Damon, I can’t do this.”

The tormented expression on her face made him pause. “You have to, sweet pea. There’s no one else. Closing it up will stop the bleeding and the thread is laced with antibiotics.” He tried to keep his gaze steady, but his head hurt so damn much it was difficult. Damon wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go back to sleep, although he knew he shouldn’t.

She looked at him pleadingly, clearly torn between wanting to help him and not wanting to stitch him up.

“I can’t do it myself.”

When Ravyn finally nodded, he released the breath he’d been holding. Her hands shook visibly as she opened the package. He noticed they were the only part of her that was clean. How could he not admire this woman? He knew how much she hated being dirty, yet she’d used just enough water to get the muck off her hands. The only reason he figured she did that much was to make sure no more dirt went in his wound as she flushed it.

Her trembling increased as she held the needle and Damon swallowed hard. There was nothing to numb the wound and her unsteadiness was going to increase his discomfort. He gave her some instructions on how to proceed and then settled himself.

As he watched, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, her hands were steady. She never ceased to amaze him. Still, he knew her control was tenuous and Damon braced himself. If he so much as winced, Ravyn might lose her nerve. She appeared to be on the verge of tears as it was. To keep her mind off what she was doing, he started talking.

“My family lives in Connecticut,” he told her, his voice unwavering even as the needle pierced his skin. “I guess you could call that my home, but I don’t. I was shipped off to boarding school when I was six and was rarely there after that.”

Ravyn didn’t shift her focus from the stitching, but he knew he’d caught her interest. “Where was your boarding school?”

“The first one was in Massachusetts.”

“First? How many did you attend?”

“Eight, I think.” He barely suppressed the need to flinch as Ravyn tugged a little too hard.

“What? I can’t believe you raised so much hell that you kept getting expelled.”

“I didn’t.” Damon tightened his fists as she inadvertently jabbed him. She was so intent on her task, that he didn’t think she noticed. When he was sure he could continue without revealing how much it hurt, he said, “My parents would hear about some great prep school and the next fall I’d be in a new school. I lived all over the eastern half of the United States.”

She appeared shocked. And disapproving. “That’s terrible. Children need stability.”

Damon gave her a noncommittal grunt.

Ravyn stopped sewing him up and said, “You couldn’t have liked all that moving around.”

“No,” he admitted slowly, “I didn’t like it. It was tough, making friends and losing them year after year.”

“And, after a time, it became easier not to let people close.” Ravyn looked fierce and he knew it was on his behalf.

Damon started to shrug, but his body protested the movement. For the first time, he realized how stiff he was. “Maybe,” he allowed, pushing aside the added twinge.

Ravyn huffed out a sigh, but kept her attention on the job at hand. He could feel sweat start to run down his face. She was over the heart of the wound now and the pain was sharper, harder for him to block out.