Page 140 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER TWENTY

Shemza

I try to reach my Lorna, try to grab her, but my reflexes are dulled by lack of sleep and I am too slow. The bank collapses under her feet, plunging her into the swollen body of the river.

I do not hesitate. Do not even think. I just throw myself into the water after her.

It is a shock of cold. Dark and churning beneath the surface. For a moment, I am disoriented, confused which way is up and down. But then I catch a glimpse of my Lorna’s pale skin as her body is swept further along away from me, and my focus narrows, only fixed on her as I strike out towards her.

My arms ache as I sweep them through the water, propelling myself forward.

My lungs burn from holding my breath, most of the air knocked out of me by the cold, but I refuse to surface.

Refuse to take my eyes from my Lorna until my hand closes around her wrist, gripping her tight.

Even then, I drag her to me, my tail wrapping round her waist, anchoring her body to mine, before I strike out for the surface.

I burst into the air with a gasp, dragging water into my lungs.

Lorna coughs and splutters, much to my relief, but then her head lolls against me, and I am unsure if she is conscious.

I look to her and see a bright red mark on her forehead, stark against the pale cream of her skin.

She must have bumped her head on the rocks at the bottom of the river.

I swim for the shore, dragging her out of the water where the banks grow low, a slope rising gently rather than an abrupt incline.

The ground is wet and sloppy beneath me, and it is some effort to haul us fully onto the shore.

My muscles feel limp with exhaustion, but I push through it, not satisfied until my Lorna is safely on solid ground.

As soon as she is out of the river, I lay her down, press my ear to her chest. Listen for her breathing.

The rise and fall of her chest is steady, and her heartspace beats with enough strength to chase away many of my fears, but when I touch a hand to her face, she does not stir.

My headspace locked on the image of her plunging into the water, I feel panic bubbling inside me.

My Lorna. My beautiful Lorna. Always the dispassion I can summon for my other tribe brothers and sisters is elusive when it comes to her.

The bump on her brow is already swelling, darkening, the bruises showing up stark on her pale skin.

I remove my top once again, rush back to the water, plunging it in so it soaks up plenty of the cold liquid, then bring it to her, pressing it gently to the bump.

Cold will make the swelling reduce, but it is not good that she does not rouse.

Her breathing remains steady, but her eyes do not flutter open.

Her lips have changed colour, turning the same shade as her bruise.

She is cold, and she will not warm in her wet clothes. There are no caves around, and I have no tools on me to light a fire, which means the only source of heat for her is myself.

Gently, I remove my Lorna’s top, lifting it over the bump on her head with as much care as I can.

It reveals nothing of her body that I have not seen before, but it feels forbidden, wrong to unclothe her after she has distanced herself from me, denied my touches.

I do not wish to do anything that would make her uncomfortable, but her wellness is more important than this gap that exists between us right now, so I draw her into my arms, pressing her skin to my own so my heat might pass to her quickly.

She trembles with cold as I rub her body, pressing my face to her neck as I try to cover every part of her with part of me.

My legs over hers, my chest to her back, my arms around her, cocooning her in my warmth, all the while praying to Lina.

Let her be okay. Please.

As colour starts to return to my Lorna’s skin, so do my healer’s sensibilities.

I cannot entirely blame tiredness for their momentary loss.

It is as though the fear pushed all my sense out of my head.

Now my Lorna no longer looks so deathly pale, I can see that the bump on her head is nasty, but not so bad that I think she may have cracked bones beneath her skin.

I check her ears and nose to be sure and find no signs of bleeding.

Her breathing remains regular, deepening now that she is warmer, her heartspace beating a strong rhythm.

She is going to be fine. It is strange, perhaps, that she does not wake.

But maybe that is a result of the nesta seed tea Rachel gave her yesterday to ease her into sleep.

The tea normally wears off overnight, but it can leave a person feeling groggy, like sleep is lingering close.

Humans are smaller than raskarrans, and perhaps I should adjust my doses a little more than I already have.

I will ask her when she wakes. Find out if she has felt the pull of the tea even after waking.

A plan, even one so small and loose as this one, makes my heartspace calm, my headspace clear a little further.

I remember once more that there are things I can do besides hold on to her to speed her healing.

This is not a place I look for my herbs and roots, but djenti bush does favour riverbanks. There will be some nearby.

I am reluctant to, but I release my Lorna from my hold.

I scout up and down the banks of the river, not wanting to go far from her while she is so vulnerable, and find some djenti berries growing.

It is late in their season - the last few fruits before the big rains fall.

They are small and not very juicy, but they are better than nothing.

I would rather feed them to her in water, but we did not take waterskins with us when we left the village, so instead I press a berry to her lips and burst it into her mouth.

The bitterness would be overwhelming if she were awake, but she sleeps yet, and only laps at the juices with her tongue.

Then there is nothing further I can do but wait for her to wake, and it is the worst sort of helplessness.

Without action to take, my headspace crowds again with fears.

I fret over her, checking the bump on her head every few moments.

I wish to take her back to the village, but I am concerned about moving her.

Concerned mostly that I am not strong enough.

The cold has truly taken my vitality, and my whole body feels heavy, as if I am the one who has taken the nesta seed tea, sleep coming to claim me.

I will wait a short while. Recover a little of my strength.

When I feel less bone weary, I will carry her back to the village.

For now, I slide my body next to hers, holding her to me so my warmth may pass to her.

The forest floor does not make for a comfortable resting place, but it is what we have, and at least this way I can be sure that she will not catch a chill.

If it also means I can feel the constant beat of her heartspace, then that is a good thing.

It calms my spirit. Lets me know that hers is still strong.

I stroke my fingers over her sunshine hair, matted and dirty from the river water and the blood.

She is still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and I wish I could take her hurts into me.

Wish it was my head dashed against the rocks so she does not have to suffer more.

She has already suffered so much since falling to our forests.

Suffering of her body. Suffering of her headspace and heartspace, also. I wish I knew what troubled her so. Even if that knowledge meant knowing how I have made it worse.

No. She was happy with me. She was happy when we kissed, when we mated. As happy as I have known her. I have to hold on to that truth, take strength from it. I will find a way back to my Lorna. I will.

But first, I must get her well. Nothing else matters.

I mean to stay awake, to watch her for any signs of waking or changes.

But I find I cannot keep my eyes open, sleep creeping into the edges of my vision, no matter how I try to fight it.

I draw her closer to me, nestling alongside her.

If she wakes, I hope she understands that I do this for her health, not for any pleasure I could take in it.

That there could be no pleasure in it for me when she is hurting.

I am a fool for insisting on helping with the search when I am so compromised by my lack of rest. Another male would have better been able to aid my Lorna.

It is a bitter thought to finally fall asleep to.