109
When I wake, shuddering, I’m lying in strong, warm arms against an equally warm body.
“Where am I?” I murmur.
“You’re in your cabin,” a deep, familiar voice says close to my ear. “You’re safe.”
“Thorun,” I croak, struggling to disentangle myself and rise. “Where’s Thorun?”
“Shhh, keep still. She’s safe. She’s outside gathering firewood.”
I relax back into his arms, groaning.
“My head hurts.”
“I know. You have a concussion. You’ll need to rest for at least a week, maybe two before you begin the march to the finish line.”
“Oh, God. Miranda!”
“She’s gone, Cat.”
I let out a long, deep breath.
“I was bleeding,” I whisper, “a lot.”
“Yes,” he chuckles, his chest moving against my own, “you were. Head wounds bleed a great deal and being upside down didn’t help, but the cut wasn’t deep.”
“No transfusion,” I sigh in relief as my eyes close against my will and I feel sleep claiming me again, “not him in me.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I whisper.
I’m not quite asleep as he rises and walks outside, and I can hear his low discussion with Thorun.
“She’s going to be fine. Rest for a couple of weeks before making the trip back.”
“We will,” she murmurs.
“The crew will be here shortly to replace your frozen camera. I only had a small window of opportunity to get here unnoticed due to the blizzard, but it’s waning now. I need to go.”
“I know. Thank you, Jag. Thank you for coming and saving her. I couldn’t have handled losing Cat.”
“Neither could I,” he says quietly.
As sleep claims me, I hear his snow mobile fade into the distance.