Linked

Nineteen : Crazy

I'm too scared to check Corin's pulse and breathing. Although his face doesn't seem deathly pale, so that must be a good sign. I need to see how deep the wounds are. Gingerly, I pinch the hem of Corin's tee and lift it up. It has soaked into the blood, and makes me think of the cloth Mrs Plum used to sop up the espresso on the carpet the day I was told of my medical appointment. "Sorry," I murmur, as the fabric yanks on the slashes in his torso. "You'll be okay. You'll be okay." I repeat it as much for my benefit as his.

His skin, which was so smooth and lovely, is smeared with drying blood and scored like pork belly ready for the oven. I lean closer and inspect the damage. His skin is torn in long straight lines, but thankfully the cuts are shallow. Surface cuts. Deep enough to soak a shirt crimson, but not deep enough to cause any lasting damage. I need antiseptic and bandages. The fish-scented blanket we've been using as a pillow isn't sterile enough. The last thing I want is to make things worse by causing an infection. I know there isn't either of those things in my backpack, so I scramble across to Corin's, which is lying on the ground a few steps away. I rummage through but can't find anything useful. Why any sane person would ever want to leave the safety of the city when this is what awaits out in the wild is beyond me. Not for the first time, I feel overwhelmingly grateful for our secure, predictable society. And then, my heart breaks, because I remember I am not a part of that society any more. I wish I wasn't a mindlinker. I wish my mother had never passed this curse onto me. It's destroyed everything I ever held certain.

I freeze.

Maybe not.

I drop the backpack, practically empty without the sleeping bag inside, and scurry back to Corin. I lean over him. His face is peaceful, as though in a deep sleep. His eyelashes graze his cheeks. "Corin?" I try aloud one last time, placing my hand on the edge of his forehead, brushing back a tuft of muddy hair. As my fingertips reach his left ear, I notice something grey and solid beneath the leaves. I sweep them aside, clearing a space around Corin's head. A rock.

I try linking. We've never linked while sleeping before, but this is different than sleeping, isn't it? "Corin?" I pause and lick my lips. There's no response. "Please be okay." I stroke his hair again. Then I remember his shirt, and pull it back down to re-cover the wounds. Don't want any bugs flying in. That would be just my luck. I zip his jacket, too. And then spread the sleeping bag over him, tucking it around his chin.

Benna? His voice echoes groggily through my mind.

Thank goodness. My stomach twists, a happy squirm. My hands start to shake again and the panic returns. I don't know what to do. I start patting the sleeping bag in around the rest of his body, making him snug. I'm not sure why. Just to do something, I suppose.

I link back, rather manically. "Corin! You're not dead!"

Aren't I? I'm trying to open my eyes but I can't... I can't do anything...

"Well, I think you're unconscious. I fainted, and it looks like you've hit your head on a rock." I clear more leaves from the hard lump of slate beneath his skull, as if to prove to him there is, indeed, a rock. Even though he is unconscious and does not know what I am doing. "You'll be okay." I reassure both of us. "And the cougar and her cub are gone. We're safe."

For now. Corin replies. We need to get moving. They might come back. Can't you wake me up? Shake me or something. Wait, are you alive? What if we're both dead? Are you okay?

"I'm fine. Believe me, I've tried shaking you. You'll wake up when your body is ready." I settle beside his unmoving form. I'm feeling calmer now that we are linking. I am no longer on my own. "But I need bandages. You're bleeding. Actually, why are you bleeding and I'm not?"