Beh has not moved.
I gasp and cough, trying to clear my throat so I can breathe properly and then decide I just don’t care. My stomach roils, and I have to turn my head over my shoulder as I retch. I swallow hard through bile and mucus in my throat and cough again.
“Beh?” I whisper. I run my thumb over her cheek, and her skin is cold. I’m gripped by another sob as I lay my ear against her chest, barely able to keep my grip on her as I listen closely…
…and hear the shallow but steady beat of her heart.
I need to get her back to the cave to warm her.
Stumbling to my feet, I lift her in my arms. Part of me wants to just run as fast as I can to get her to safety, but her furs are still lying on the ground near the edge of the lake, and I don’t want to risk falling and dropping her. I refuse to put her down though, and I hold her with one arm as I bend at the knees to reach her furs and place them over her body. I gather everything I can in this way and tuck her close against my body as I begin to walk.
It’s good I know the paths as well as I do because I can’t focus on where my feet are going, only on the woman in my arms and the blood on her face. Another cry rips through my chest as I keep up my slow but steady pace, trying to make sure I don’t jostle her too much.
The sun sets behind my back just as I reach the steppes on the other side of the pine forest. I can see the cliff that holds our cave, but it still takes some time to get there. Making my way up the slight incline and then through the tight crack while carrying Beh isn’t easy, but I hold her tighter and manage to get inside.
It’s dark, and the fire is nothing but embers.
As carefully as I can, I lay Beh in our furs at the back of the cave. I place the side of my face against her chest once more. She still hasn’t moved at all, but I can hear her heart beating. Taking a deep breath, I stumble to the fire and quickly rekindle the flames, add logs, and rush back to Beh’s side.
She is still, and her skin remains chilled.
I rub my hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm her and then grab all of the spare furs from around the cave to pile them in the depression where we sleep. I lie beside her, wrap her in the furs, and push her hair from her forehead again.
The gash no longer seeps blood, but it is nasty looking even in the firelight.
“Beh?”
Nothing.
I feel tears in my eyes again, and I sniff loudly. It’s hard to breathe through my nose. I touch Beh’s cheek and then the edge of her lip. I press my mouth to hers, but I get no response.
I can feel her breath coming from between her parted lips.
I wrap my arm around her waist, and I bring her against me. I lay my head on the furs beside hers and watch her face, waiting for her to open her eyes or mouth and make a sound. How many times have I been annoyed with her strange noises, wishing her to be silent like she is now?
My chest clenches again.
Finally, I realize I would give anything to hear my mate’s sounds again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I sleep very little, waking often to see if Beh’s eyes have opened. I wonder if she just needs to rest and will wake up when the sun rises in the morning, just like she does every morning, but she doesn’t. I try shaking her and yelling, but it doesn’t help. I hold her head up and attempt to get some water down her throat, but it mostly spills out around her mouth. I think she swallowed a little, but it is hard to tell.
I can’t make her eat though.
Dipping a scrap of cloth from Beh’s old leggings into water I warmed by the fire, I slowly wash the blood off of Beh’s face. Beh doesn’t like being dirty at all, and I hope cleaning her off will help wake her up. I try to get the blood out of her hair as well, but that’s not very easy because her hair is so tangled. I try a little water first, rubbing the strands between my fingers to loosen the dried mess, but it doesn’t work well. I pull her up against my chest and try to use the wood carving to get the snarls out, but holding her limp body and using the wood carving at the same time isn’t easy. It takes a long time to make it smooth.
I take the time—Beh likes her hair clean and without tangles.
What does it matter if she’s asleep?
My own head is throbbing, and my cheek is sore and swollen from where the other man hit me. As long as I don’t touch it, it’s not too bad. If I forget and bump it with my hand, it hurts, but it is nothing like how Beh is hurt.
I sniff and feel my sore eyes begin to tear up again.
“Beh?” I push some of her hair off her forehead and look at the cut. It doesn’t bleed anymore, but it’s bright red around the edges, and her skin is bruised all around her temple and down around her eye. I touch my nose to the spot below the black and purple marks and close my eyes.