33. Basten
Chapter 33
Basten
A s Ninth Hour rings from the distant castle, I crouch by a game trail, studying the trampled grass. There’s no mud here to capture a footprint, but it’s clear enough that something heavier than deer passed this way. The grass’s bend suggests a person weighing around one hundred twenty pounds with a running stride of forty inches.
I lower my nose to the grass to breathe in.
There .
Sabine’s violet blossom scent slams into me like a shot of adrenaline. It’s heady. Intoxicating. But then, I grimace and spit into the dirt. Her normal scent is tainted by the bitter bite of her fear. Thinking of her, fearful and alone, makes my stomach revolt.
“If that fae bastard has touched you…” I mutter between clenched molars. I grip a fallen branch, squeezing so hard it snaps. I close my eyes, imagining it’s Artain’s trigger finger.
You’re a fool to fall for his tricks , I berate myself for the hundredth time. Growling, my muscles bristle as I think of his pretty-boy smirk. The urge to strike something is overpowering, and I settle on giving myself a good smack in the jaw.
Pain shoots through my head, but I only growl again.
It doesn’t hurt enough .
I need my physical pain to match my inside pain. It’s my fault that we’re trapped in this twisted game. I thought I could outsmart a fae. Still, that wasn’t even my greatest mistake. If I could do everything over again, I’d have taken that first look at Immortal Vale in his fae regalia, thrown Sabine over my shoulder, and gotten the hell out of Drahallen Hall on Day One.
Now, I’ve put her in danger. And if the only way to spare her from the fae’s bottomless well of depravity is to win, then I’ll fucking win.
Even if it means putting myself in the grave.
I open my eyes and stalk forward after Sabine’s trail.
It’s a tricky thing, tracking her. I don’t mean that it’s difficult . On the contrary, it wouldn’t be easier to follow a guide rope. Her scent is splashed on every tree she brushed by. If that wasn’t enough, it’s more than clear by the animals’ reactions that she’s passed this way. Robins cluster in the branches overhead, watching me like her guardians.
When I say “tricky,” it’s because I don’t want to catch her too fast.
The way I figure, this game won’t end until sunset. So, if I catch her now, I have to hold onto her for seven more hours until dusk. Which is an eternity when you’re trying to cage a spitting wildcat. I might not remember our past together, but all it takes is one look to know she’s a woman who puts up a fight.
And her screams?
Might as well be a blazing signal fire to draw Artain straight to us.
So, it’s best to let her run—on a leash, of course. Her scent tells me that she’s about ten minutes ahead of me. Which is perfect. That’s enough space so that her spies don’t fly off to sound the alarm, but I can snatch her quickly if needed.
The game trail splits, and I sniff the air. Sabine turned left toward the tributary stream, following a female deer. A bird was with her—probably one of those robins, judging by the faint scent of mealworms, their preferred snack. The other forest smells are expected: rotting mushrooms, fox scat, pine resin.
I don’t detect a glimmer of Artain’s wild mint scent.
I take the left trail along the riverbank. I should be relieved that there’s no sign of my competition. It means Artain hasn’t found Sabine’s trail yet, which makes sense—he lacks my heightened senses. But the bastard is nearly godkissed fast. And smart.
That’s why I keep glancing over my shoulder, scanning the shadows. If he’s so quick, why hasn’t he swept through the forest by now?
Yeah, I don’t like this.
As I round a bend, a sound ahead brings my feet to an abrupt halt.
A human sound. A woman’s. A yelp .
My heart smashes against my ribs as my body screams at me to run toward the sound. To move. But I force myself still.
Is it a trick?
I cock my head, straining my ears. The gods-damned stream’s burbling cuts my hearing range in half. Normally, I could pick up on a squirrel’s chit from half a mile away, but now, I strain even to hear a leaf fall nearby.
Then, I hear it again, clear this time.
That’s Sabine’s cry. No mistake. It’s a quarter mile ahead, and I can hit that distance in a minute and a half.
I tear through the forest, ignoring the ache in my muscles. For Sabine, I’d run until I collapsed, bruised and spent in the dirt. I’m not sure which churns harder, my heart or my mind. I have to get to her. The world will burn before I let that fae bastard place his filthy hands anywhere near her.
As soon as I round the stream bend, I pick up on their scents:
Artain’s wild mint aroma meanders through the air like oil on water, oozing confidence. Whereas Sabine’s violet scent cuts straight to my nose with the sharp tang of fear. It coats my tongue, driving me into an even faster run.
I crash out of the woods at a clearing at a pond’s edge. As I skid to a stop, I throw out my senses to take stock of the situation.
Artain is on his knees at the water’s edge.
The water laps against the bank—recently disturbed.
Five dead deer lay bleeding out into the trampled grass, gold-tipped arrows shot with godly precision into their hearts. The tang of their blood hangs in the air, but beneath it is the salty scent of Sabine’s tears.
Artain clocks me immediately.
He jumps to his feet with inhuman speed, tossing a pebble casually in the air and catching it. “Well, well. Lord Basten. Perhaps not a bad huntsman after all—though you’re too late.”
In a flash, I have my bow drawn, the arrow aimed square at his chest .
“Where is she?” I demand. “I can smell her all over you.”
There’s a new edge of cruelty in his eyes, though I suspect it was always lurking beneath his smiling facade. He strokes his chin, eyeing my arrow with unsettling calm. “The terms state we can’t kill one another.”
“Fuck the rules—I’m dead anyway, right?”
He tosses the pebble again. “Go ahead, then. What part of “immortal” don’t you understand? Let that arrow loose and see how much it slows me down.”
Anger burns through my forearm as I strain to hold the bow drawn. Every instinct screams to let my arrow fly. Maybe it won’t kill the bastard, but hey, at least for a minute, it would wipe off that smirk.
“I’ll ask again,” I challenge. “Where. Is. Sabine?”
Artain flings the pebble into the stream, where it skips twice before plunging underwater. When I narrow in my vision on the sinking pebble, I can make out water plants still disturbed beneath the surface, as though something large swam recently through them. The trail leads toward a beaver’s dam on the opposite shore.
“The beavers,” I realize. “They helped her.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He combs his fingers through his hair to tame it back into place. “She’ll be soaking wet now. Even easier to track. I’ll have her back under me in five minutes to finish what we started.”
My arrow point trembles as rage blurs my vision. “You. Don’t. Touch . Her.”
“Oh, I’ll do much more than that when she’s mine every night.” He draws his hunting knife in one smooth flick of his wrist. “I just have to put you in the grave first.”
We begin to circle one another. Sunlight winks off his blade. My arrow is drawn but aimed downward .
He moves first, feigning a stab forward, but at the last minute, kicks a rock with exceptional aim at my head.
I bat it away, ducking. He’s testing my reflexes.
When I straighten, I use the momentum to swing the end of my bow at his midsection. He dodges, then tackles me from the side, slamming me down to the streambank. We grapple in the mud, boots spilling and sliding. I try to wrestle the blade out of his hand.
“Mortal weapons can’t kill me,” he reminds me. “And if you maim me and break the terms, then I win.”
“Guess I’ll have to be clever, then. Think like a fae.”
I wedge my leg between us, boot against his chest, and throw him off me. While he scrambles to his feet, I draw my own knife and slash against his leg.
“Bleeding is allowed,” I growl. “I could just drain you. Tire you out.”
I rush him, slashing again, this time at his arm. He evades me with an upper block, cuts his blade across my shoulder, then slams the hilt into my solar plexus.
I double over, gasping for air, then come up shoving my shoulder into his midsection and throw him back into the pond.
He lands with a splash. I stomp in after him, sheathing my knife, then grabbing his vest lapels to shove him under the water.
He burbles, struggling for air.
My arms burn, but I throw all my weight into holding him underwater. His flailing leg manages to hook around my ankle, and he knocks me down with him.
We both splash in the water, struggling to go after his knife. He tries to pin me under the surface, but I twist away, crawling back onto the shore .
I grab my bow, breathing hard as I get to my feet.
He emerges from the water, hands empty. His eyes dart to his bow lying in the grass at the base of a rocky slope.
“Go ahead,” I grunt. “See if you can make it.”
His eyes flash, calculating. In a burst of speed, he lunges for his bow. Immediately, I nock an arrow in my own—but don’t aim for him.
Instead, I swing my arrow toward a thin root halfway up the slope that holds back a mass of dirt and rocks.
I let my arrow fly as Artain grabs his bow.
The root snaps in half—without its support, a landslide begins.
Artain can’t get out of the way fast enough. Dirt rains down the slope. Rocks follow. Some the size of my fist. A few as large as a wooden chest.
I jump back, bracing my hands on my knees, as I scan the slope.
When the dust finally settles, Artain is buried up to his neck in loose rocks.
Limping forward, I spit in the dirt. “Try to get out of that .”
Where dirt doesn’t cover his face, cuts and bruises do. As he strains against the rocks, he spits, “Your victory is also your death sentence, don’t you get it?”
“You don’t begin to understand what I’d do for Sabine.” Gripping my upper arm, I secure my bow behind my back, double-check I have my sheathed knife, then splash into the shallow water toward the beaver dam.
I pause, sniffing.
There’s smoke in the air.
It’s faint but undeniable. Blowing in from the west, about a quarter mile away, where the forest buts up against the jagged Vallen Mountains.
Smoke means fire, and a wildfire always comes with the acrid scent of lightning. But I don’t smell lightning now—only a tang of iron and minerals. Which means this wildfire is human-made.
“Sabine,” I murmur. “What did you do?”
I break into a run, clenching my molars against the pain that shoots through my shoulder with every jostle. If my little violet started a fire on purpose, then I need to reach her before the smoke dulls my senses.
On the one hand, I’m impressed. Few tactics could slow down both me and Artain, but smoke is one of them. It masks scent and taste. Not to mention, reduces my seeing distance by half. Hell, the fire’s roar muffles sounds, too.
On the other hand? I’m fucked if I don’t catch her before Artain gets himself free.
I crash thigh-deep through the water, and once I’m within a few feet of the dam, the bright scent of blood hits me like a drug. It’s fresh. It’s hers .
I channel my anger into following her trail. Now that I know she’s bleeding, it’s child’s play. From the scent, I can tell she spent a few minutes hiding inside the den with the beaver family before swimming out to the far shore, where she crawled onto a sandy patch.
I scoop a handful of sand to bring to my nose. Violets . But the worst kind—stained with blood.
The grass is bent where she crawled through, and my feet break into a run, following her scent as surely as if she’d painted arrows on the rocks. There’s a break in the trees ahead where the sun winks through.
It’s past Tenth Hour, judging by the sun’s location .
Smoke blows thicker. Coming from the north, now. The fire is spreading.
Sabine’s tracks fade once I hit a rocky outcropping, but her scent remains strong. I pause to drop into a crouch to touch a blood drop. She can’t be that badly hurt, or else I’d be following a river of blood. That’s some small comfort.
As I study her blood, another drop falls beside it—this time, it’s mine. With a grimace, I clap my hand over my blood-stained shoulder.
Sabine’s scent cuts toward a game trail marked with deer sign, and I hustle in that direction, moving cautiously now. Her scent is strong here, beneath the smoke.
She’s close.
My eyes dart to the nearby trees, searching for her winged spies. She doesn’t have my hearing, so she won’t hear my approach, but her minions will.
Coughing from the smoke, I push through a cluster of huckleberry bushes and see a cave ahead. I came across this cave before when I was setting traps throughout the forest, so I know that it doesn’t have a rear egress.
Her scent pours out of it—she’s in there.
I spare a moment to lift my head to the sky, shoulders sagging in a rare moment of relief. As clever as she is, hiding in a cave isn’t the smartest move. Maybe she’s desperate. Blinded by grief from the deer herd whose scent still clings to her.
“Sabine!” I step out of the bushes. “It’s over.”
I can hear her soft, shallow breaths echoing inside the cave.
About two hundred feet to the north, flames lick at the underbrush. I wipe away a bead of sweat.
“Come out, sweetheart!” I drop my tone into a gentle beckoning. “You did well. Starting the fire. Hiding in the beaver den. But there was no world where I was going to let that bastard take you. This is how it was always going to end.”
I listen to the quiet rustle of her clothes. Glance at the encroaching fire—one hundred fifty feet off now, moving in fast.
But she still doesn’t come out.
Tightening my jaw, I say, “Now isn’t the time for fighting one another. I’m going to win this damn game whether you like it or not. You’re going to walk out of this kingdom free as one of your birds, even if it means a knife in my heart.”
Still…nothing.
Growling to myself, I shift my approach. Fine. If my little violet wants to play hide and seek, I’ll play.
“I’m coming in,” I call in a hard tone.
I’m two strides toward the cave when a flurry of activity erupts from the darkness.
Hundreds of bats shoot out like arrows, flapping their wings in my face as their hard little bodies slam against me, knocking me around like a straw dummy before dispersing up into the smokey trees.
Fuck!
My pulse scrambles to regain its rhythm as I hunch over, raking my fingers through my hair in case any of the little devils got tangled in it.
As my breath heaves, I toss my head up?—
To see a monster crashing toward me.
I have a split second to process a thirty-point buck thundering out of the cave with his massive antlers lowered at my torso. Sabine rides on his back like a goddess straight out of a legend, gripping the base of his antlers, her hair whipping behind her as her eyes fix on me like dagger points.
Fuck me.
So, she’s not ready to surrender, I take it.
I stand my ground, quickly calculating my chances. The buck is forty feet away—it’ll be on me in three seconds. My hand instinctively grabs for my bow. I can have an arrow in the animal’s heart in two.
I nock the arrow and pull back the string, closing one eye for aim.
But as my vision hones in, I can’t seem to fire. Beneath the reek of smoke, the air still smells faintly of Sabine’s tears. Her grief over the deer herd is real.
“Just do it,” I growl to myself.
I steady my aim again, though my fingers shake. Dammit . I’m a huntsman. I’ve killed hundreds of deer and never thought twice. But there’s something different now that I’ve found Sabine. It doesn’t matter if I’ve forgotten our past. Somehow, her pain is my pain. What she cares about, I care about. I never would guess in a million years that Wolf Bowborn would hesitate to take an animal’s life, but this is what she’s done to me.
She’s given me a fucking heart.
“Dammit!” I hurl my bow to the ground as the buck closes the distance between us. One second left. A half a second.
I throw myself to the side as its antlers barrel forward. One point catches me in the right side, and pain explodes across my ribs. I grit my teeth as I come up from the roll, tossing the sweaty hair out of my eyes.
Think fast, Basten.
I don’t want to kill the buck, but I can’t let Sabine escape. Right now, they’re retreating fast. The smoke will hide them completely in another second.
Adrenaline sets my muscles on edge as I scan the immediate forest, calculating where I laid my traps. I pick up a rock and pitch it to the right of the fleeing buck.
The animal spooks to the left—right into the tripwire I secured before between two birches.
There’s a crash as the buck slams to the ground with Sabine still on his back. A cloud of dust kicks up as Sabine falls off sideways, tumbling into a pile of leaves. I hear the air shoot out of her lungs.
She groans, temporarily stunned.
The buck scrambles to his feet, stumbling only briefly before regaining his footing, and then bounds off into the encroaching smoke.
I race to Sabine’s side and drop to my knees. “Little violet!”
I roll her onto her back as she coughs, her eyes unfocused, blinking hard at the sunlight through the clouds of smoke. A cut on her temple oozes blood. I quickly feel along her limbs for any broken bones, relieved that she’s only twisted an ankle.
I cup the back of her head to gently lift her up. “Easy. Don’t move too fast.”
She coughs again as her eyes begin to focus.
Glancing at the spreading wildfire—one hundred feet off—I brush the wet hair off her forehead as I murmur, “It’s almost over. Soon, you won’t have to fight anymore. We’re together now. All we have to do is keep moving until sunset. I left Artain incapacitated, but that bastard will figure a way out to free himself sooner or later.”
She latches onto my forearm, where the scars that form her name peek out from my torn sleeve. “Basten. The buck?—”
“I didn’t shoot him.”
She lets out a relieved sob. Slowly, she tries to push to her elbows but winces from a bruised rib.
I won’t lie, we aren’t in the best position here.
We’re both soaked, dripping pond water, which will leave an obvious trail. Both bleeding, too. Wildfire is rapidly approaching. She can’t run on that twisted ankle.
And the sun? Shit, it isn’t even Eleventh Hour. Dusk is eight hours away.
You need to get her the hell out of here, idiot! a voice announces in the back of my head.
But I can’t take my eyes off her.
Tonight, I’ll die for her, happily putting the noose around my own neck, but before that light disappears forever?
Cupping her jaw, I capture her mouth with my own.
Warmth floods into me, laced with the taste of violets. My chest seizes up with so much damn love that it feels like I might float away.
She pulls back and gently wipes the blood from my jaw. “Basten.”
My heart starts pattering like rain on a tin roof. When this perfect woman says my name, I’m fucking lost.
She tilts her chin up for another kiss, and I’m only too happy to oblige. She lifts herself onto one elbow, sliding her hand around to the back of my neck, where her fingers weave in the hair at my nape.
Brushing my rough lips against her velvet-soft ones, all I can think is that this one kiss is worth giving up my life for. Its aching softness leaves me breathless in a new way. A way that has me exploring every curve of her mouth, searing this kiss into memory so that when I die in a few hours, I’ll be remembering everything about this moment.
She lives in more than memories.
Breath shallow, I pull back to rest my forehead against hers.
“It might be madness, but I love you, Sabine.” I lock my hand around her arm, afraid to let go. “Screw the past. The future, too. We have right now together, this moment, and it’s all I want.”
She clutches my good shoulder, biting her bottom lip as though pained. “I love you so much, Basten. Now and forever.”
She vocalizes a soft moan as my teeth scorch across her bottom lip. She twists her hand in my torn shirt, instinctively grabbing on.
This is what my life has led to.
The chance to keep her light shining forever.
The heat from the wildfire toasts my left side. Though it kills me, I break the kiss and slowly ease my arm around her waist. With her twisted ankle, it will be slow going with me carrying her over my shoulder, so we can’t risk staying here any longer.
“Come on, little violet,” I coax as I help her sit up. “I’ll carry you back to the southern gate?—”
She interrupts me by slapping away my arm. Her eyes are clear now, powerfully fierce.
“What?” she stammers. “No.”
“No? Darling, there’s only one way this game ends, and it’s when I carry you to the finish line over my shoulder to claim my win.”
She shoves herself up to a sitting position, her wet dress clinging to her chest. “So Artain can slit your throat? Basten, I’m not going to let that happen.”
My eyebrows slide upward. I thought she understood that this kiss was our last.
The determination on her face is so damn adorable that I find myself laughing at the idea that she thinks this can end any other way.
But as soon as I chuckle, her face goes dark.
She pushes to her feet, not looking at me, glancing at the wildfire closing in. She tests out her ankle, winces, and takes a single hobble.
And that’s when I realize she’s serious.
I shoot to my feet next to her. “Like hell, you aren’t.”
She rakes her damp hair off her face so she can glare at me. “I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for me.”
I laugh again, though I don’t mean to be cruel. Simply realistic. “Darling, you don’t have a choice.”
Her jaw flexes. Her lips twist angrily. Gods, I love seeing that defiance sparking in her eyes, but what does she think she’s going to do to stop me?
I urge her toward me with my hand. “Come on, Sabine.”
She retreats a step, glancing over her shoulder as though she’s primed to run. “You don’t get to do this. To be a martyr after we went through hell to be together again. You might not remember our past, but I do. I remember every beautiful day. Every night when you held me. Every morning when you made me coffee and hid your grumpiness until you’d had some yourself. The midnights. The dawns. I remember every second—and if you think those end today with your death, you’re wrong.”
In the distance, I faintly hear the far-off bellringer signal Eleventh Hour .
I pinch the bridge of my nose, steadying my temper.
“I might not remember our past,” I start, “but I remember plenty else. I remember pummeling other boys so hard that their skulls cracked. I still hear Onno’s dying whimpers at night. Don’t you get it? Sabine, I’ve killed innocent men. Tortured women whose only crime was hearing gossip about the wrong person. When I say my life meant nothing before you?—”
My throat closes up.
After a breath, I continue more measuredly, “My life was less than worthless. I was a blight on everyone I crossed paths with—until I met you. I’d pay any price to remember our past, but it isn’t going to happen. The memories are gone. And I don’t care, understand? Because I finally have a chance to do one worthwhile thing in my life. And then all of my mistakes will be worth it. This is my chance to make up for everything. Because I can save you .”
She watches me carefully, warily. I take another step forward, reaching for her, but she hobbles two steps back and ducks under a branch, putting it between the two of us like a shield.
She shakes her head hard, eyes flashing. “Don’t talk like you don’t have a reason to live.”
My temper is boiling over now. I could never be angry with her, but I’m starting to panic at the idea that she will keep fighting me.
“Only one of us is leaving this kingdom, and it has to be you.” I tear open the leather pocket on my breastplate to hold up Rian’s Golath dime. “You have to ride to Hekkelveld Castle and show Rian Valvere what happens to those who betray you.”
I thrust out the coin, but she refuses to take it .
She keeps that damn branch between us as she shouts, “ You’re the rightful king of Astagnon. The people need you on that throne. We know now what kind of twisted games the fae can play. Do you think my father is any different from Artain? We just haven’t seen his true colors yet. If anyone can protect Astagnon from them, it’s you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, glancing up at the high sun. “Gods dammit. I’m sorry, little violet, but we don’t have time for this.”
I lurch forward and grab her arm, dragging her out from behind the branch. She winces as she puts weight on her twisted ankle. Guilt stabs between my ribs.
But this is what I have to do.
When I pull her against me, she struggles like a wildcat.
“Let me go!”
“Sabine, get it in your head that you’re going free, not me.”
“I won’t let you do this!” She manages to wrench one hand free and grab my bow from the ground. She smashes the pointed end into my bleeding shoulder. Pain jackknifes through my upper half, making my muscles slacken.
She slips free from my grasp, staggering back against the tree trunk with the bow clutched in hand. “Stay back, Basten. I’m warning you.”
Pressing one hand to my shoulder, I growl, “I didn’t liberate you from Rian only for you to land in another lunatic’s hands! Artain will have you on your knees for him each night until they’re bloodied. You’re a gods-damn princess. A queen. I’ll die before I see you bow to anyone .”
A sob bubbles up her throat as she clutches my bow across her like a shield. “Please, Basten. Just walk away.”
I see red, and I slam my fist into a towering elm to dull my raging fear. My knuckles burst, blood drizzling out. But the pain feels good. Grounding. Motivating.
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “Not happening, little violet.”
I hesitate for a heartbeat before stalking forward. Gods, if only there were another way.
But this is all I get. One heartbeat. One fantasy. One last kiss.
Then, I start toward her again.
“I said you aren’t dying !” She hurles my bow at me, and in the split-second that I’m distracted by swatting it away, I don’t hear hoofbeats until it’s too late.
She twitches her fingers in the air.
The thirty-point buck tears out of the bushes at too close a distance for me to run. I can barely stuff Rian’s Golath dime back in my pocket before the animal smashes its rack into my chest.
The wind heaves out of me as I’m thrown against the tree trunk.
Fucking hell .
Grimacing, my vision refocuses—I look down to see at least a half dozen antler points stabbing into me.
I can feel a broken rib. A sharp pain in one of my kidneys. Still, it’s clear this was a warning strike. The antlers only pierce a half-inch deep. The buck could have done a lot more damage if Sabine had wanted it to.
I pant as I grip the base of the buck’s antlers with both hands, then strain to wrench them out of me, screaming from the effort.
“Basten, stop!” Sabine cries.
Her eyes are wide. Incredulous. She underestimates the lengths I’ll go to get her free .
Groaning, I push all my weight against the buck until I can fully free myself from its antlers. Blood immediately pours from more stab wounds than I can count, and for a second, my knees soften before I can straighten again.
Tears pour down Sabine’s cheeks. “Stop!”
“Not…going…to…stop,” I mutter.
Grimacing, she twitches her fingers, and the buck tries to drive forward again. It’s a battle of wills as we wrestle together.
“Then I’m sorry for this. I really am.” She thrusts her hands forward in the air in the same position as the buck’s antlers. “Again!” she screams.
The buck digs his hooves in the dirt and thrusts forward harder, throwing his three hundred pounds of muscle behind the effort.
I try to hold him back. Straining. Grimacing. But I can’t. His antlers stab into me again, right through my ribs, dangerously close to my organs this time.
A cry rips from my throat as pain swallows me.
Digging deep, I grab the beast’s antlers with renewed determination and prepare to fight him for another step toward Sabine.
“Basten, please!” Tears stream down her cheeks. “Don’t make me hurt you again!”
“I’m not—going to stop, little violet.” I wheeze. “You said I promised I’d—I’d tear out my beating heart if you asked it of me. I meant it. I mean it now.”
“But I’m not asking!” she shouts.
“Doesn’t—matter. My heart…is yours. It was always yours.”
Tears stream down her face.
I’m losing a lot of blood. My vision is blurring. Until now, I’ve heard the crackling of the encroaching wildfire clearly, but it’s at the point where I struggle to hear my own rasping breath.
I muster my last ounce of strength and lurch forward toward Sabine.
Her sobs sound dim, too far away, as she says one more time, brokenly, “ Again .”
The buck thrusts forward one last time.
I reach out a blood-soaked hand toward Sabine—but then it falls.
I slump forward over the buck’s antlers, pinning me to the tree, as the world goes black.