“Put your arms around my shoulders,” Miles says. When I comply, he wraps his arms around me and lifts me. He begins carrying me back the way he came. Over his shoulder, I glance once more at the dead boar that so nearly killed me.
And at Miles’s weapon that he left sitting in the dirt.
“Your gun…” I say.
“It’s served its purpose,” Miles replies.
“But…”
“I’ll send someone back for it. Later. Once we’ve had you checked out by a doctor.”
I curl into his chest, chasing the warmth of his body. Now that the adrenaline has all but worn off, I feel so cold.
“I’m fine…”
“You could have internal bleeding.”
There’s no arguing with him, it seems. His mind is made up that I will see a doctor, then that’s what I’m going to do.
We continue through the brush until we reach a small clearing where
