I limped toward Kent.
Not walked.
Not ran.
Limped.
One leg dragged just enough to remind me that bones, no matter how stubbornly healed, remembered being broken. Every step sent a dull ache up my spine, a quiet protest from muscles that had done far more than they were designed to do today.
Kent was still pinned to the tree.
Both legs skewered by splintered trunk, bark soaked dark with blood, frost still clinging to his skin like a mocking reminder of how hard he'd pushed himself. His chest rose. Fell.
Barely.
I dropped to my knees beside him, ignoring the ice biting into my skin.
"Hey," I muttered, pressing a trembling hand against his shoulder. "Don't die."
No response.
I leaned closer, voice low, rough. "Because if you do, I swear to whatever cosmic idiot is running this place, I'll kill you myself."
That got a reaction.
A faint, pained twitch of his jaw. A breath that hitched just slightly harder.
Good.
