Page 26 of Swept for Forever
She barely stirred.
Not good. Not good.
Her skin burned under my fingers, but her body felt ice cold.
I pulled the long-sleeve tee over her head. It swallowed her frame, but it was warm. That was all that mattered.
Lulu whined beside me, watching my every move.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered, pulling the sleeping bag over Autumn. “I’m working on it.”
Finally, I yanked on my own dry clothes, exhaling hard. But I couldn’t stop. Not yet.
Keeping her warm was one thing, but she needed fluids badly.
I shifted, careful not to jostle her too much, and reached for my pack. There was a small camping stove and a single can of soup I’d packed for what was supposed to be a peaceful, self-reflective hike.
So much forzen.
As I propped her up against my chest, her head lolled to the side, barely conscious.
“Let’s see if we can get some fluids in you,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.
Outside, rain hammered the tent in a relentless rhythm, the wind tugging at the fabric. With the three of us packed inside, it was tight, but it held. And it was warm.
I got the soup going, heating it in a small pot over my camp stove. The smell of chicken broth filled the space, and I could’ve sworn I saw Autumn’s nose twitch like she smelled it too.
That was a good sign.
I carefully filled a collapsible cup and held it near her lips.
“Autumn,” I said, nudging her cheek with my knuckles. “You gotta have something.”
She made a weak noise but didn’t fully rouse.
I tipped the cup slightly, letting a few drops touch her lips. Finally, she stirred, her eyes fluttering half-open.
“There we go,” I encouraged. “Just a little. C’mon.”
Her lips parted, and I poured another sip into her mouth. She swallowed, barely, but it was progress.
“More,” she mumbled.
I huffed out a quiet laugh. “That’s the spirit.”
I took my time, coaxing her to take it in small sips, alternating between the soup and some water.
“You’re…really nice,” she murmured, slurring the words slightly.
I smirked, tucking a loose strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Don’t spread that around. I have a reputation to protect.”
Her lips curled faintly, but exhaustion pulled her under again before she could say anything else.
I watched her for a moment. She was still running hot, but at least she had some fluids in her. That was something.
I laid her back down gently, adjusting the sleeping bag around her. Lulu lifted her head, her eyes heavy with dog concern, before flopping back down at our feet.
The tent was filled with the quiet sounds of breathing—Autumn’s, Lulu’s, and mine.
