Page 45 of Elora and the Crow

“This was lying over there in the snow.” She draped it over Jonah’s upper body before studying his right hand. “Shit, I think his hand is broken.”

“Okay. Jonah, honey, I need you to sit up for me,” Elora said.

“Don’t want to,” Jonah said.

“I know, but you have to.”

He shook his head, and Elora’s panic burrowed into her insides like a beetle. Making her voice exasperated and stern, she said, “Jonah, you sit up right now.”

He groaned but did his best to help when Elora and Cece each took an arm and pulled him into a sitting position. The slight bit of colour in his face disappeared and sweat dripped down his forehead despite how cold his body felt. He rested his left hand against his side as Cece looked behind him and sucked in her breath.

“Oh my God, Elora.”

“What?” She looked behind Jonah, and her panicking heart turned hummingbird fast. His shirt was torn and bloody, and she gently eased it up, staring in horror at his exposed skin.

“Oh fuck.”

Jonah’s back was a gruesome display of multiple punctures. Each one oozed a horrifying combination of bright red blood and yellow pus.

“What the hell happened to him?” Cece asked.

“Poisonous fae thorns,” Elora said.

“Shit, I thought that was a myth,” Cece said.

“It’s not,” Elora said grimly before touching Jonah’s back.

He jerked away, his breath hissing out. “Hurts.”

“I know, honey. I’m sorry.”

Cece examined the blood-soaked hair at the back of his skull. “He has a concussion, for sure.”

“Jonah?” Elora smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Honey, we’re taking you to a hospital.”

“No.” His left hand gripped her wrist, his fingers freezing but surprisingly strong. “You can’t take me to a hospital, Elora.”

“I have to,” she said. “You’re terribly injured, and you probably have frostbite on most of your body.”

“If you take me to the hospital and they discover what I am, you know what they’ll do to me,” he said.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Elora said, dismay smashing into her. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“How would they even know?” Cece said. “Just don’t shift to an animal while you’re there.”

“They’ll know,” Elora said. “A shapeshifter’s blood is… strange, and they’ll definitely draw blood at the hospital.”

“Oh shit,” Cece said. “They’ll dissect him in a fucking lab.”

“Yeah, they will,” Jonah said before closing his eyes and bowing his head. “Fuck, hurts so bad, baby.”

“I know, honey.” She tried to sound soothing even though she had never been so terrified in her life. The chances of Jonah dying in this goddamn forest were horribly high. “We’ll get you home, and then Cece and I will do some healing spells and potions for you, okay?”

“’Kay,” he mumbled.

“How are we going to get him out of here?” Cece asked.

“Jonah, can you stand?” Elora said. “I need you to stand and start walking.”

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