Page 44 of Cry of the Firebird

"What happened? Put me down," she said groggily.

"We tried that, and you toppled over. Can you feel your toes again?" he asked. Anya tried to move and couldn't. Hot panic rolled through her.

"I can't… I can't move. Trajan put me down. I'm going to be sick," she said.

Trajan set her down on the ground. She threw up green bile streaked with blood until she could throw up no more.

"Here, Anya, try and drink," Cerise said, helping to wash her face and drink from a water bottle. "Trajan, we have to get those thorns out of her and soon."

"I'm going to kill Vasilli," Anya groaned.

Once she was cleaned up, Trajan had her back up in his arms. He smiled even though his eyes were filled with worry.

"I'm sorry if I smell like vomit," she murmured as they walked. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

"No," he said, his arms tightening.

Anya huffed out a laughed. "Liar."

"This is some trick of Vasilli's to hinder us. When we get a little further, we'll find a safe place to get the thorns out," he said, his jaw clenching.

"Doesn't feel like a trick." Anya shut her eyes, trying to focus on his smell and warmth to steady her. "When I was little, I hated it when you left."

"I didn't leave. I was sent away," Trajan replied.

"I'm sorry I forgot you."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Anya. We have fifteen years to catch up on. I intend to make sure that we do just that," he replied, his eyes filled with determination.

Anya tried to smile, her face the only part she could still move. "You've gotten better looking with age."

"What lies. I've always been this good looking." Trajan frowned playfully. "Are you trying to flirt with me right now?"

"I need the distraction from dying. It might be the only time I have left to flirt."

Trajan laughed softly, shaking his head. "You're not going to die. Rest now. You can try and flirt with me later."

"There will be no trying," Anya said, but curled into him and let the swaying movement ease her.

"Izrayl has found a suitable place to stop," Yvan interrupted them, his warm hand brushing over Anya's forehead.

"Don't look so worried, Tsarevich. You're not getting rid of me this easily," Anya said, her voice cracking.

"You wouldn't be you if you did anything the easy way," he replied.

Trajan set her down on soft grass near a stream. Cerise was beside her in seconds, inspecting her hand.

"Are you a doctor?" Anya asked as Cerise took her coat off.

"I've had some medical training as a nurse. It makes it easier to get into hospitals." Cerise looked at Anya's hand and followed the tendrils up her arm and down her side. "This looks like your blood is poisoned, so if we can get the thorns out of you and stop the infection, your body might be strong enough to heal the rest."

"You mean cut them from her?" Yvan asked.

"It's either that, or Anya worsens and possibly dies."

Izrayl appeared through the trees before he transformed into a naked man. If she was going to die, Anya decided it wasn't the worst thing to look at as she did. Trajan tossed him a pair of jeans, and Izrayl pulled them on.

"I don't know why I need to bother. I'm just going to have to take them off in a minute," he complained.

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