Page 107 of The Delver
He was immediately more aware of the shakiness in his limbs, the raggedness of his breath, and the abrasive dryness in his throat. His body felt far too heavy, as though it was made of stone like Rekosh often joked. Simply remaining upright was a struggle.
Should not have stopped. Might not be able to move on again…
Huffing, Urkot lowered himself beside Callie, cupped his hands, and dipped them into the cool stream. Then he tilted his head back and poured water into his open mouth, drinking deeply.
Once he’d drunk his fill, he lifted his water-filled hands toward Callie. “Drink, female.”
Her hand trembled as she cupped it beneath his, but she pressed her mouth to the side of his finger and drank.
He brought another handful of water to her lips, then another, until she shook her head.
“No more,” she said, nudging his hand away.
Urkot dumped the water into the stream and looked her over. A low buzz resonated in his chest at how ashen her skin appeared. There were deep shadows under her eyes, and tiny drops of sweat clung to her forehead. Scratches and abrasions marred her arms, belly, and legs, her brown hair was a tangled mess, and a few of her nails had been cracked and broken. Yet worst of all was the blood-soaked silk wrapped around her calf.
He should’ve kept closer to her. Should’ve noticed the spiritstrider lurking in that dark chamber, should’ve acted faster.
Despite his weariness, he shifted upon the ground so his body faced her, brought his forearms together, and sank into as deep a bow as he could. “I am sorry, Callie. I failed to shield you from this harm.”
Callie caught his jaw and lifted it, forcing him to rise. Her eyes were narrowed in a glare. “Don’t you dare apologize. This isn’t your fault, Urkot. You got us out of there. Yousavedus.”
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his headcrest. “And we’re going home. Together.”
“Together, mynyleea.” Urkot cradled the back of her head and closed his eyes, breathing her in, feeling her.
But her shivering and the prominent blood scent interwoven with her fragrance made him pull back. “Your leg.”
Callie offered him a weak smile. “Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
He released another unhappy buzz. As gently as he could, he slipped off her boot and unwound the silk cord he’d tied around her calf. Callie hissed, gripping her thigh with both hands above her knee.
Once the end of the bloody rope fell away, he tossed it into the stream to be swept away with the current.
“Ah, Callie,” Urkot said as he beheld her leg in the final remnants of daylight.
Her calf was swollen, its skin darkened by bruising, with long gouges and punctures from the spiritstrider’s claws. Blood oozed from some of the wounds he’d hastily patched. Thankfully, his sticky silk had staunched most of the bleeding, but the wounds… There were many. Her delicate flesh had offered no resistance to those wicked claws.
He could not imagine how much worse the damage might’ve been had he been even a moment slower in intervening. He refused to.
But there was little he could do for her. She needed Diego, needed the human knowledge and technology he possessed toheal her. All Urkot could do was rebind her wounds and get her back to Kaldarak.
Cupping the back of her foot, he held her leg up and carefully rinsed away the blood. She flinched, and when he used more sticky silk to seal the open wounds, she curled her lips inward and bit down on them. He heard the soft cries she attempted to stifle, felt the strain in her body, and saw the tears in her eyes.
All those reactions created pangs in his chest, each one but a tiny sliver of her pain. He hated that he had to hurt her to aid her. Hated the helplessness he felt. But there was also rage, raw and unsatisfied, toward the vrix who’d harmed his mate.
He produced another silk rope, wrapping it neatly and firmly around her calf to protect her wounds.
When he finished, her body was trembling, she was panting shallowly, and sweat was trickling down her temples. He could still smell blood from her leg, though it was fainter.
Granting her a few moments to recover, he forced himself to rise and searched nearby until he found a plant with broad, potent smelling leaves. He tore a few off and returned to Callie, wrapping them around her calf and tying them into place with strands of silk. It would help mask her blood scent.
After washing the blood from her boot in the water, Urkot carefully slipped it back onto her foot before turning his attention to his own wounds. Though they were many, most were minor and had already stopped bleeding. He packed the rest with silk, grunting softly at the twinges of pain.
This would not be a comfortable night for either himself or his mate.
“Come, my suncrest,” he said as he picked Callie up and gently set her on her feet. “We must go high to rest.” He lowered himself and held his hand out to her.
Callie chuckled as she accepted his assistance in climbing onto his hindquarters. “Think we’ll see Kaldarak from above?”
