Splintered

Chapter Forty-Five: There's Blood on the Side of the Mountain

Bellona's pale lavender eyelids were motionless. Matching mauve lips were just as still, yet slightly parted. Dirt and blood streaked her cheeks. Old leaves and splinters netted in her hair.

Each limb was stretched out in a haphazard pose. Her left arm was curled up near her temple, and the other was cradled awkwardly against her side. A much too dark scarlet stained her right arm sleeve.

Hazel crawled closer, nearly slipping over the snow-coated earth.

Bellona can't be dead.

She can't.

It is not possible.

Behind her, Leo's spine bowed under the pressure of his reaction. His shoulders heaved. He hovered in his spot, remaining several feet away as if he were afraid to get closer. Terrified to confirm what he was seeing was real.

One word fell from him like a repetitive, desperate prayer.

"No. No. No."

Hazel swallowed her own terror as she grappled toward the prone figure, whispering, "Bells?"

As her knees brushed against Bellona's uniform, her injuries became clearer. Scrapes crisscrossed every inch of visible skin. Cuts merged into lacerations and those volcanoed into hematomas. Most concerning was the deep orchid bruise that necklaced her throat.

Someone or someones had tried to take her down, and naturally, she had refused to go easily.

"Hell of a fight you put up," Hazel whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

Her murmuring seemed to stir Leo, and he stumbled forward until he was flanking the opposite side of his sister.

Hazel groped around Bellona's collar. Her fingers met the sticky yet velvety flesh of her bruised neck. The temperature was all kinds of wrong. It was much too waxy. Too clammy. Too close to that of the foliage. Of the frost. Of the dead they had already passed over.

Digging her fingertips deeper toward the jugular, she waited. Willing herself not to confuse her own jackhammering pulse with that of the peacekeeper.

Leo's breathing sounded like he'd run miles without stopping.

"Bello...Don't you dare leave..."

The gravel in his voice sandpapered Hazel's heart like rubbing too hard on a freshly healing wound. She looked up at him. His irises were like a bottomless slate well of devastation.

"Leo," she started, but her next words died before she could give them life, as a shallow shifting snared her vision.

The edge of Bellona's parted lips twitched. Barely. The movements were so faint, for a moment, Hazel considered the possibility they weren't real.

Maybe I am imagining it? Another hallucination, perhaps?

At the same time, a dull rhythm met her jittery fingertips.

Not imagining that.

"Drayton," Hazel let out an exhale. "She's got a pulse."

"What?" Leo croaked. Demoralization giving way to a glimmer of hope. Like a candle being lit in a dark room.

"It's weak, but it's definitely there." Hazel pushed her voice out harder.

Leo's eyes scoured his little sister. A gash barreted her hairline but it was superficial. The color of her neck and her sleeve was the most concerning. But Hazel needed to get a better look to know what they were dealing with.