"Don't let them get you on the ground," Nathaniel whispered over his shoulder. "If they do, you are done. Stay on your feet no matter how hard they pull."
Solona suddenly felt blind in the dark. Nathaniel's height obscured what little there was to see before them, and even standing on the tips of her toes to peer over his shoulder revealed nothing.
"Let me get in front of you," she responded.
The menacing growls were growing louder and Solona knew there was only seconds before their attack. She'd faced wolves many times before and they rarely gave such a warning, at least not until they knew they already had you cornered. At least these ones wouldn't be a bunch of blighted werewolves.
Solona felt a full well of mana tingling at her palms, the leaden exhaustion of her swim quickly fading away. The familiar, cold-water rush of adrenaline filled her veins, coiling her muscles into springs.
"Nathaniel!" she hissed impatiently. "Let me in front of you!"
He lowered the arm that he'd stretched behind him in order to rail her in, allowing her to step around him. She searched the dark to locate a target, ready to release an instant barrage of ice at the first sign of movement.
She didn't hear the first wolf launch himself through the air. The jarring impact of its body felt like the ground had come up to meet her; a solid wall of force slamming silently onto her chest and shoulder. Without even a moment to recover her breath, a second wall hit from the other side, breaking the momentum of her falling body with a sickening lurch. The second impact pushed her into a new trajectory that allowed her to fall back into her footing. The upended earth became upright again, though a chaos of sound and sensation exploded into violence around her. Her chest radiated pain as she wheezed to recapture a breath, each inhalation stinging. At her rear, Nathaniel yelped.
It took a long moment to register the razor sharp fangs ripping into her arm. The pain was clouded out by the roaring adrenaline, with only force and pressure immediately apparent. Remembering Nathaniel's warning, she let herself stumble in the direction the wolf was attempting to drag her, not allowing any resistance to aid in toppling her over. There was no question that Nathaniel was correct: once she was one the ground, those fangs would find her jugular and crush her throat in an instant. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to find her focus. Calling up a flare of shock, Solona pushed a deluge of electricity directly into the powerful jaws clamped around her forearm.
The flashing purple light revealed a nightmarish scene. Not four giant bodies, but five, one staring up at her with black, bloodthirsty eyes and bared teeth. The second beast pranced around her, seeming to be carefully calculating his strike. Behind her a cacophony of grunts and growls, Nathaniel and the two wolves upon him jumbled together in a struggling mountain of twisting, writhing forms.
Another stunning blow hit from her other side as the second wolf made his decision and rejoined the fray. A scream ripped harshly from Solona's throat, piercing through the din and filling her head. Fangs skewered into her thigh as the wolf jerked toward the ground, adding the weight of his body to her own. He must have realized he needed to get a grip a bit higher, and released her, his body winding up to jump again. Solona relaxed the stream of electricity, relieved to hear the loud thump as the body of the first wolf hit the ground. She reeled around and blindly released a flurry of ice, hitting the second wolf mid-jump. Its frozen weight had already launched and crashed into her, knocking her back even as the frost immediately began to crunch apart. The scrapes of movement made it clear she hadn't hit him full on, giving her only a few seconds to think.
Solona scrambled back to her feet, her chest searing with loss of breath. The bulky shape in the darkness before her leapt back to its feet and grew larger as it made a new, swift approach. Panic scorched nauseatingly up her throat as she unleashed a wild attack of flame at the shadow before her, immediately filling the air with the scent of burning fur and meat. The wolf staggered for several steps and let out a heartrending screech, allowing Solona to take a shaky breath. His movements slowed, his body finally beginning to droop as he cooked.
Shakily, Solona looked toward Nathaniel, the dying flames revealing only a flash of bare chest streaked with red. A large beast was attached to his wrist, head twisting and yanking violently while Nathaniel batted behind him at a second attacking wolf. To her right, in the trees, another growl. She heard it for only a moment before the attack came, this time with claws. The wolf was on his hind legs, trying to come down on top of her. In the soft flesh of his belly Solona buried multiple shards of ice, but not before the animal's weight landed, bringing her down beneath it. Bursts of white filled her vision as her head bounced off the ground.
The wolf smelled of carrion, his impossibly heavy body smothering her chest and arms. For a moment the world spun while a dizzying chorus of scraping feet and growls faded in and out, foggy and distant. In her ears, her heart lubbed.
Slowly, some sliver of her mind fought through the haze. Her senses were assaulted by extremes, the cold peace of encroaching oblivion giving way to the hot weight of death crushing her under a rancid carpet of matted fur. A quiet voice reminded her she wasn't alone; that without her help there would be two Wardens taken to their death, not just her one. Fighting back to reality, Solona began to rock and twist her body, trying to loosen her throbbing arms and position them to push. Pain sliced white-hot through her nerves as mangled bones and flesh screamed with the effort. Somehow she emerged, a leg first freeing itself and then digging into the ground, aiding her arms in the last few pushes. Taking a desperate gulp of the night air, Solona clamored to her feet, facing the wall of motion that was Nathaniel and his attackers.
She launched a fireball at what she could only hope was the feet of a wolf, but the flames revealed a jumble of limbs, pushing and pulling erratically, and Nathaniel walked right into the path of the fire. A new surge of panic climbed into her throat as she rushed to cancel out the flames with a flurry of ice. But the tangle of bodies changed course again, and her ice clattered ineffectually to the ground.
This time her fire was used only for light, sent again into the air while Solona locked onto a piece of Nathaniel and tracked his movements. The wolves were large enough to completely obscure him at times, or so she thought before the light had fizzled away completely, the scene of violence plunged back into raucous darkness.
Solona frantically searched her mind for options. Electric shock would travel through the wolves and straight into Nathaniel, making it not even worth considering. Even flames and ice could easily miss and hit the wrong target, as they nearly had already. With the size of the wolves it shouldn't have been difficult to hit them, but their movements were so swift and erratic, and time was running out.
The next ball of fire illuminated exactly what her eyes sought: Nathaniel's belt, lying in pile by the water. Before the light could dissipate she sprinted to it, hampered by the searing pain in her thigh, and a dull, sickly throb in her injured arm. She nearly stumbled over a pile of his leathers as the darkness resettled. Gritting her teeth, she located the hilt of the dagger within the belt's sheath, and stood again to face Nathaniel. His movements had slowed, the wall of shadow appearing smaller now as he began to droop. Solona's heart jumped into her throat. She rushed to action before even she knew what her plan was, and suddenly she was on top of them, one hand searching out an expanse of fur, the other plunging the blade, again and again. Metal glanced off bone and rattled up her arm. Warm splatter hit her face and drenched her chest. Shrill whines and yelps confirmed she'd met the right target, and as the body fell away she vaguely made out the crumpled form of Nathaniel, not fully on the ground, but listing dangerously.
Finally, as though the Maker himself was aiding them, a cloud moved and the moon emerged, casting just enough light for her to find the final wolf body in the tangle of writhing shadow. Not caring where the blade landed, she continued to stab, throwing what muscle she could muster into each thrust. The wolf twisted in midair, pulling back and attempting to redirect his attack. Panicking, Solona redoubled her efforts, flailing the blade before her, urgently trying to connect with any surface on its body before it was able to regain its stance.
Solona held her breath and braced for impact. A quiet voice in the back of her mind wondered if the breath might be her last.
No advancing body arrived to knock her off her feet. No new set of fangs crunched down upon her flesh. The blueish white stars at the edges of her vision ebbed away, and leaving a dim image of a bloodstained figure with a mangled forearm hanging limp and useless. Nathaniel dropped to his knees and hung there for a breathless second before toppling forward. Five bulky masses lay scattered before the waterline, one convulsing quietly before falling limp.
And then, a roaring silence.
The wet dagger in Solona's hand was covered in clumps of matted fur. The blood streaming down her own body had warmed her for a moment, but was now cooling in the night air, issuing ghostly mists of steam into the night. Her own arm wasn't responding correctly, but the pain felt separate from her somehow, strangely nebulous and disassociated. Only the hammer of her heart in her ears, the dying stream of adrenaline in her blood felt real. She blinked at the darkness, her mind empty and frozen.
Until Nathaniel groaned.
Dropping the dagger she stumbled forward to him, only barely making out his features before the heat of his body was under her hands. His torso rose and dropped rapidly, his back and arms sticky with blood.
"Nathaniel?" she asked. She barely heard herself over her the ringing in her ears.
She sat up straight, scanning the dim shoreline again for his belt. She'd stopped carrying health potions right after Alistair died, but Nathaniel should have some. Somewhere along the waterline should be his tonic pouch, and hopefully, a full supply. Solona scrambled to a stand, her body still responding slower than she expected it to. She swayed on shaky legs and was instantly slammed by a wave of agonizing pain. Her thigh screamed with fire, her arm throbbing and growing heavier with each labored breath.
Hissing through clenched teeth, she forced herself to take a step. One foot in front of the other, it can't be far.
The corpses of the wolves were still steaming in the pale moonlight. Solona gaped down at the ground, for a moment feeling off-kilter and forgetting what was she was looking for. Shock was setting in, wanting to bring with it that beautifully cold oblivion again. The scrape of Nathaniel's movement broke through.
It felt like an eternity before she finally located his belt again. She dropped her knees, hearing her own voice tear from her throat as the impact sent shattering waves of pain out from the wound in her thigh.
Her fingers felt thick and numb as they slipped along the little hooks and pouches of his belt. Finally she located an especially large pouch, but a thick layer of dirt stuck to a coating of sticky wetness.
Liquid dripped from the pouch's corners, and even before she lifted the flap she heard the grind and crunch of broken glass.
"Shit!" she hissed. Her stomach wound itself into a tight ball.
She needed no light to know that most of his potions had shattered. Someone had clearly trampled all over his belt in their struggle. It might even have been her, in her haste to locate his dagger. And something in the pack smelled noxious.
"Damn it Nathaniel!"
She pulled herself back up and dragged herself back toward him.
"What?" he rasped, coughing.
The sound of his voice released a little of the tension she carried. She dropped back to his side.
"You keep your poisons in the same pouch as your potions?" she asked.
He grunted with the effort of trying to push himself upright. She set down the pouch and grabbed his arm, trying to keep him steady. Tremors traveled through her body as the cold pentrated deeper.
"Of course not!" He sounded incredulous, even a little offended. Somehow that came as a relief.
She sent up another fireball, readying herself to take in as much detail as she could while the light remained. The orange wash revealed a macerated hand cradled in his lap, an open wound on his side and at least three parallel scrapes down his arm. More could be hiding under all the blood, but those stood out darker against all the red.
The belt before her had a second large pouch on its other end, it too shiny with wetness and gritty with dirt. Her own arm streamed blood from multiple deep holes, but had not been mangled like Nathaniel's had. She clenched her teeth through the pain and turned the belt quickly, tearing open the flap to use the last glow of light to peer inside.
There too the potions were little more than a stew of broken glass, but one vial still held a stopper, appearing to be intact. She grabbed it as gently as she could manage and pulled slowly, wincing as it scraped against a clutter of shards. Only a second after it had been freed, the glass collapsed within her fingers, buckling into itself like the shell of a crushed egg. Slow drips of potion seeped down her palm and directly toward the wound at her forearm. She jerked to catch the crumbling vial, cupping her good hand and containing what she could of its escaping contents.
The moment the potion touched her ripped flesh it began to burn, blooming an agonizing fire out from her wound and up her arm. Solona let out an involuntary wail and struggled to remain in place as the burning spread, trying not to further upset the leaking pouch.
Solona gritted her teeth and balled her good hand into a fist. A feral growl ripped from her throat.
When the burn began to fade, so did the pain. She waited, assuming the numbness that was replacing the burn must have only been the shock of relief. After several shaky breaths she realized that the numbness was persisting. Confused, she flexed her fingers, expecting the sting of injury, but felt almost nothing.
Another fireball revealed what could only have been the truth: a clean, intact forearm, the flesh healed where the potion had made direct contact with the wound.
She peered down into the pouch again. The potion there was riddled with shards of glass, and was decreasing in volume with each drip lost from the seams.
An idea pushed its way to the front of her mind. Solona set the pouch down carefully and stood again, ignoring the dizziness that followed and rushing over to where Nathaniel's leathers lay. She gathered them up, and realizing she needed to get a more constant source of light, kicked around until her foot connected with a fallen branch from a nearby tree.
Dragging both back to Nathaniel she resettled herself beside him. Taking a deep sip of mana, she directed a plume of fire at the branch until all the moisture clinging to the bark fizzed away. A second or two after, the wood finally held a small flame. She positioned it beside them, and after carefully assessing the leathers jumbled in her lap she located the two things she figured would be useful: the linen tunic and a piece of Nathaniel's shoulder armor. The shoulder piece had the vague shape of a shallow bowl, and with her breath in her throat she emptied the drippings of the broken vial out of her palm into it. It trembled as she began to shiver, but the potion stayed contained. Carefully, she positioned it under the dripping pouch, letting the rounded leather collect the last drips of potion.
While she waited, she tried to assess Nathaniel. His face was ghostly pale, but his eyes were open. He was hunched forward, his body wracked by waves of shudders as he cradled his mangled arm. She gazed with wonder at her own healed wound. Something still ached deep inside, but the flesh outside was smooth, looking as though it had never endured the murderous tugging of a wolf. How had she never known that she could pour their potion directly into a wound? She, like everyone, just took for granted that it was something that could only be consumed.
If she collected enough, Nathaniel could drink it, though he'd be risking drinking tiny pieces of glass. But, presumably, any damage resulting from those would be healed as well.
She waited tensely as the droplets grew slower and smaller, almost afraid to breathe lest she blow away a precious drip of health.
If there wasn't enough for him to drink, she could just apply what they had directly to his wounds. It might not fix everything, but it would at least be something. There was certainly not going to be any getting him back to Anders in his present state. Drinking less than a full dose might close the superficial cuts, but would leave the worst wounds open. Even a full dose would do that if the wounds were bad enough. That didn't seem like a good option at all.
And she couldn't very well leave him here alone while she went for help. What if there were more wolves out there? Or darkspawn, bears, some of Thedas' other, more nefarious inhabitants, any of whom could be drawn to the scent of all the blood? Left here with no way he could shoot an arrow, he'd be helpless. Even if he could wield his dagger with his uninjured hand, they'd have to practically be on top of him before it did him any good.
Solona, however, even without clothing or a staff, was a living, walking weapon.
It was pretty clear the only option was to stay together until they both made it back to camp.
Solona shivered as the cold intensified over her bare skin. The breeze coming off the water hit the wet spatter on her stomach and back, raising her hair on end. A new awareness of her body reminded her that it wasn't just her arm that had been injured. She too had random cuts and scratches, plus a deep bite on her thigh.
The pouch stopped dripping. The collected potion was less than what would fill a vial by almost half. Solona sighed.
"Did you see this?" she asked Nathaniel, holding up her newly healed arm. He turned his head weakly and nodded. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.
"There's not enough for you to drink. But we need to do something."
Without waiting for him to answer, Solona scooted closer. She wadded up the linen and began wiping away the blood on his torso, searching her mind for any anatomical knowledge she retained from her studies in the circle. Body and head wounds had the greatest chance of being life threatening, while wounds to his extremities, as long as they weren't near an artery, could often wait for treatment if they were bandaged well enough. But he'd need to be able to walk. Having swam the entirety of the way out here, and most of it completely lost in thought, she had no way to know exactly how far they were. But that campfire had sure seemed small the last time she'd caught a glimpse of it.
Nathaniel winced, cringing as the linen swiped over a deep gash in his chest. Solona slowed her movements, cautiously dabbing, careful not to cause any unnecessary pain. It was difficult to gauge its true seriousness in the paltry glow of light coming off the nearby branch, but the urgency of the situation demanded she focus.
Solona dipped a finger in the potion and dripped fat droplets into the wound. Nathaniel tensed, letting out a harsh groan. She waited, giving him a moment to adjust to the burn before continuing. She worked quietly, applying potion in gradually increasing amounts until she saw the bloodflow slowing and flesh begin to mend.
Nathaniel's body was glowing with heat, and for the long minutes that Solona focused, she forgot about the cold at her back. Passing over the shallower looking cuts, Solona went straight to the more serious looking gashes on his torso, trying to adopt a clinical air and ignore the glaring intimacy of the task. Solona heard every jagged hiss and inhalation as she touched him. His skin shone in the orange firelight, cutting dark shadows into the detail of his body that undulated as he tensed with pain. She felt her way along his body and wiped the blood from all the shadowy places with the linen, finding herself surprised at his considerable musculature. She'd never cared to imagine what he looked like under his leathers, but she'd never have guessed that an archer's activities would build so much obvious strength. His chest rose and fell as his breathing intensified, drawing attention to his toned breadth, and the light coating of hair that tapered down to a line below his navel. Yet he wasn't bulky like Alistair was. Nor lanky and sinewy like Anders. She fought not to get distracted. It had been so long since Solona had spent time in such close proximity to a bare-chested man. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised at what kind of effect it would have on her senses.
When the worst of the body wounds had been tended to, she sat back and rubbed the ache out of her own neck while considering what was left. She had her own leg to mend, and there was still the matter of Nathaniel's mangled hand. Despite the extent of the injury, the fact that it was merely a hand and wrist had necessarily placed it at a lower priority than his body wounds, but she couldn't let it go completely untreated. The pain alone would hinder their movement, and it couldn't just be left to bleed.
Nathaniel watched her quietly with dark eyes. He was sitting a little taller and his breathing had regulated again, but the wave of shivers continued to rock through him. She sighed, her own breath coming more easily now that he seemed to be stabilized somewhat. But still, the need to get him to Anders as soon as possible persisted.
With a quick precision, she saw to her own leg, dripping potion into only the deepest, most painful sections of her bite wound. The deeper the potion penetrated, the more unbearable the burn, growing in intensity until she couldn't seem to control her own movements. She writhed in place, digging her fingertips into the dirt as fire clawed deep into her thigh muscle, radiating up into her hip and down through her knee. Her very bones seemed to throb. She heard herself whimper and hiss, and set aside the armor piece that held the potion as gently as she could manage so she could rock her body to release each wave of pain. When finally it began to pass, she felt Nathaniel's hand on her leg, his thumb massaging reassuringly.
He pulled his hand back quickly as she met his eyes again, their depths merging with the shadows cast upon his face. His skin was as pale as bone, his sharp features and black hair carving a dramatic figure out of the darkness. It seemed unbelievable that he'd somehow endured pain even worse on his torso.
Solona sighed as the numbness took over again. She forced herself to relax, working her way from her shoulders, down to her curled toes. When it was done, she considered his mangled hand.
"Any ideas?" she asked him, nodding to it. It was difficult to look at directly, his fingers bent in wrong directions, with the white shine of bone peeking through crimson pulp and viscera.
Nathaniel shook his head. The trauma of his attack was still apparent, rendering him dazed and mute.
Her chest swelled with an unexpected urge to comfort him. Surely it wasn't the first time he'd been attacked, but it might have been the first time he'd endured multiple attackers while completely unable to defend himself. Such danger and vulnerability had to have shaken him deeply. She'd been in a few fights that had a similar effect. It was never pleasant to stare death in the eyes, even for one who actually wanted to.
As she sat she began to formulate her own idea for his hand. She needed to find a way to distribute the potion over a larger surface area than she'd dealt with yet, as dripping it would likely use up the last of the potion before she could cover much space. And she wasn't sure she could stomach looking down into such a gory sight for long anyhow.
She grabbed up the linen and limped down to the waterside, each step reminding her that she was in only her underwear and breastband, without even boots to protect her feet. It would be a long, cold, difficult journey through the forest back to camp. As she sat before the expanse of glassy water, she whispered a quiet prayer that camp might actually much closer than it had appeared. But even as she finished, she knew it was pointless. The Maker only ever hampered her plans. Never had he actually seemed to help her. That is if there even was a Maker up there at all.
No, like with so many things, Solona was entirely on her own.
Mindlessly she plunged the linen into the cold water, swishing it around and washing away the blood and dirt that stuck to the fabric.
It took forever to wring out. The stiff folds gripped together and resisted her directions, feeling heavy in her hands no matter how hard she coiled it. Precious second ticked by as she fought to squeeze out every last drop of moisture. By the time she'd made her way back to the dying fire, the flames had crawled up to a slender portion of branch and were on the verge of disappearing completely. Solona grabbed up a few nearby sticks and pulled them into a pile, igniting them with a bright stream of fire.
Finally, she situated the tunic so that she could gather it up just right, folding and measuring lengths and width, and dunked a wad of it into the potion, waiting until it appeared that every drop had been absorbed.
She gestured to his mangled hand, and he visibly tensed.
"I don't know how much this will do, but hopefully it will help some. It needs to be wrapped anyway. Preferably tightly, so we can stop the loss of blood."
"Fucking fuck," Nathaniel groaned.
A quiet, unexpected laugh bubbled up from Solona's throat. For whatever reason, that was the last thing she'd expected to hear. Nathaniel looked up at her, seeming startled. Solona cleared her throat.
"Do you want a stick to bite down on or something? This is… well, not going to be pleasant, I'm sure."
Nathaniel looked around them and nodded. Using his good hand, he scooted back and settled himself against a nearby tree. He was removing himself from the light, but Solona followed him without complaint. She could hardly fathom the pain he was going feel, both at the application of the potion upon such a horrific injury, and the pressure of having the linen tied tightly around it. Whatever he needed to do to increase his comfort would help Solona feel better about the whole thing, too.
"Just do it quickly," he said finally.
Solona took a breath and unraveled the tunic, finding the large blot of potion in the center. Nathaniel bit down on a stick and rested his head back against the trunk of the tree before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He held his arm out toward her, groaning as his forearm muscle shifted and pulled at his wound flesh.
In a swift move, Solona threw the potion stained portion over the bloody tangle of hand and smoothed the fabric down. Nathaniel's legs tensed, an almost inhuman growl rumbling up from deep in his throat. She folded the fabric over and around, situating it so that she could wind two tails on opposite ends, and then, moving each toward the other, she began to wrap them around him tightly, turning the tails into a makeshift tourniquet. Nathaniel convulsed and howled, his boots kicking into dirt into her lap. She steeled her back and kept moving, pulling tight until only enough length was left on each tail to tie. Just as she was about to bring the two pieces together, Nathaniel's arm went limp and dropped down into his lap. The night suddenly settled back into a deafening silence.
With her hands shaking, Solona waited. Nathaniel's head lolled off the tree branch and dropped down, the rest of him entirely unmoving save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
She scrambled off to his side to try to bring the arm into more light, sensing as she did that Nathaniel was beginning to slump. Her heart jumped into her throat. He could wake quickly, and she didn't want to still be hurting him when he did.
She located the two tie offs quickly, but had to adjust his hand to pull tightly again. A tourniquet effect was not optional, as even if the outer flesh of his hand had mended due to the potion, the internal injuries could continue to bleed, filling up his tissues with a sludge of fluid. She tied the two tails into a double knot and then fell back, heart racing.
The stick was now in Nathaniel's lap and his body continued to list, leaning so that it was nearly on the verge of falling sideways into the dirt. Solona waited another moment to see if he might be moving on his own, finding his way back to consciousness. Instead he only continued to tip, giving no indication that he had any control over his body. Solona scooted in closer, positioning herself just under him so that she could support his weight once it slid away from the tree.
His body settled upon her almost in slow motion. First the silk caress of his hair on her shoulder, and then the warm heft of his chest growing heavier and heavier against her arm. She pushed against his chest until he was back upright, repositioning him against the tree, but quickly he began to slide in the other direction.
She centered him again, her hands gripping at the warm meat of his shoulders, while scooting her own body closer still.
Finally she gave up and let him rest against her. There at least she could confirm he was still breathing, and know the moment he began to stir.
Warmth began to pool between them. Solona became aware again that he was without the protection of his tunic or leathers, but in his unconsciousness had stopped shivering. Still, he had to have been cold, just as she was. But so close together, she could share his heat and give him some of hers. She repositioned herself so that she could fold her arms between herself and his shoulder. And then changed positions again, wedging herself under his arm, nestling directly against his body. She pulled her knees up to her chest and let them rest against him. She folded her arms against the meat of his back, adding an additional support to his weight. The warmth increased immediately, enough that her own shivers began to diminish. Patches of sticky blood remained in various places on his chest and shoulders, filling her senses with its sharp, tangy scent. But even despite it, there was no denying that she felt a tremendous relief as she pressed herself against him.
Would he mind? If he woke to her up in his space as she was, pressing her body against his in such an intimate fashion, what would he think?
The moment he'd touched her cheek came back to her, nearly startling her with vividness. She'd been trying to provoke him, demanding him to take his revenge. She wanted him to plunge his dagger into her chest and end her miserable existence, and instead… he'd touched her cheek.
The same cheek was now resting against his bare skin. It began to tingle as she became aware of it, followed by a stark awareness in the rest of her body. He was warm and solid and completely out of it, and she needed his warmth for survival, not because she actually liked it. Besides, it was no secret that he hated her.
Right?
He had to have been confused before. Maybe it had merely been an accident in the dark. Maybe he meant to hit her. Maybe he was reaching for his own face and clipped hers instead, or he was trying to push her and he missed. Maybe he would wake and be repulsed at the situation. Maybe he would not appreciate the fact that she was stealing his warmth while he was unconscious from pain.
No, that was stupid, right? He wasn't unreasonable. She was keeping him warm too. They had no choice but to rely on each other right now and until they got back to camp. If he had any problem with that, then too fucking bad.
Besides, she had saved his life! Well… after she'd endangered it. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the whole situation was essentially her fault. If she hadn't gone to him to apologize and then thrown her little tantrum, then Nathaniel might have heard the wolves in time and gotten out of their way. They might never have been detected by the wolves at all. He certainly wouldn't be shirtless and unarmed when they arrived.
But there was no way for her to know that would happen. Except that they all knew the woods were full of wild beasts. It was one thing to endanger herself, it was another to be so reckless with someone else's life, even someone who wanted her dead.
Except clearly he didn't. He'd had too many opportunities now. He'd had her almost begging him to do it, and he could have gotten away with it too. And what had he said?
That is not what I desire now.
Solona shook her head and grumbled under her breath. There would be no answers until he woke up. And maybe not even then. It seemed the only thing left to do was wait.