Chapter Thirteen

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Chapter Thirteen

Calypso’s face paled, almost as much as Leo’s.

“Um . . .” Calypso didn’t want to say something that would frighten Leo, nor did she want to say anything in fear of Leo hearing how scared she was.

“Let—let me help you to the cave,” she said.

“How are we going to do that? I don’t think you can carry me, with all my muscle and stuff,” Leo replied. Calypso resisted the urge to laugh.

“This isn’t a time for games, Leo, or jokes. You could be seriously hurt,” she scolded. Leo knew Calypso had carried him before, because he somehow went from one side of the island to Calypso’s bed on the other side of the island. Leo knew Calypso couldn’t carry Leo this time, however.

“Where are you going?” Leo called after Calypso after he turned around to watch her run to the tarp.

“I can’t carry you, Leo, with all your ‘muscle’, but I can drag you,” she told him. She pulled over the tarp and knelt next to him. She looked Leo in the eyes. Leo was worried, and he knew she knew this, yet he still hid something, something important.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him lightly and rolled him onto the extra bits of tarp. Leo complained, whined, and groaned all the way back to the cave.

"Oh calm down, Leo! It was hardly 100 yards.” Calypso rolled her eyes at him. She pushed him off of the tarp and onto her bed. He looked at her as she poked his legs.

“Must have been something on Zylon’s sword,” she muttered, probably hoping Leo didn’t hear her, and even though he did, he didn’t mention it.

“Can you feel this?” she asked, as she repeatedly poked his thighs, calves, knees,  feet, and other various leg parts. He shook his head each time.

“What about now?” She started poking harder and harder until she was almost karate-chopping his leg.

“No, I can’t feel it, but I’m pretty sure you’re gonna give me a couple hundred bruises,” he moaned. She sighed.

“Let me see your wound,” she said, moving back up to his torso. She pushed the shoulder of his shirt off. Leo winced. He could see that Calypso was trying her hardest not to vomit.

“How’s it look?” he asked lamely, rolling his head towards her. She waved her hand.

“Fine, fine,” she lied. The wound was oozing a strange yellow liquid, as well as pus and blood.

“Can you not smell anything?” Calypso questioned, holding a finger to her nose as she waved her hand around in a futile attempt to rid the room of some scent. Leo shook his head.

“My nose has been clogged for days, Can’t smell a thing,” Leo said.

“Good,” Calypso murmured. Leo could tell she was contemplating some problems in her head. When she opened her eyes again, new-found energy and motivation seemed to coursed through her. She set to work.

Treatment after treatment. She tried to stop the oozing, but every couple of minutes, she had to changed the rags on Leo’s shoulder. Somewhere around the fourth rag, Leo fell asleep for exhaustion, and the pain that appeared in his shoulder. Minute after minute, hour after hour, Calypso worked on Leo’s shoulder.

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