Chapter 279: Apparently Her Tail Had Other Plans

DOVE’S POV

Dove used the last sealed treatment bottle first because it was already in her hand.

She told Edrik what she was doing, helped him take a small amount, and kept the clean dressings where they were needed. She watched his face as he swallowed, hoping for more than she dared expect. His hands were still cold when she checked them. The cloth beneath her palm still needed holding in place.

His breathing eased a little. He was still pale, still hurt, and still watching the doorway as if he could frighten the whole road away by refusing to blink.

"Tell me if you feel worse," she said.

"I feel you glaring at me."

"That will continue until further notice."

She set the empty bottle aside instead of letting it roll into the dirty water near the door. Then she asked Sprout for the jug she had filled at the hardware store.

*Beside your washcloths. Twelve liters of pool water, cap closed. Your body stays here.*

*Good. Right where I left it. Stay with me, Sprout.*

Edrik’s hand found hers. "I’ll watch. Be quick."

Dove leaned against the wall beside him and closed her eyes. For a brief moment she saw the familiar shelves, the clear floor where the crates waited, and the pool beyond the storage area. She took the jug and returned to the workshop, still sitting on the same dirty floor with his hand against hers.

The jug was heavy against her knees. Dove unscrewed the cap and poured a steady stream over his injured legs, working below the dressings she needed to keep pressed in place. Water soaked the blanket and ran toward the doorway. She had been measuring it into tiny bottles for weeks. He could have the whole damn jug if it helped.

His hand tightened on hers. The bleeding slowed, but he still couldn’t stand. She helped him drink a little, then set the jug within reach. There was plenty left, and she intended to use it.

She tucked the jug behind the bag and pressed her tongue against the roof of her dry mouth. When Edrik looked at her, she managed to hold his gaze without looking toward the blood again.

Ash could have torn through the men in that yard. The thought came hard this time, without the defensive argument that usually followed it. She wanted him here. Wanted another powerful body between the doorway and the man she was trying to keep alive. Wanted somebody who could fight while she used both hands to help her husband.

That didn’t mean Edrik had failed her. He had taken the hit that would have killed or crushed her. It meant one person couldn’t take the hit and hold the door and carry her away all at once.

Dove pressed her forehead briefly against his. "We’re getting more help after this. I don’t care how much everybody growls about it."

His breath warmed her cheek. "I can growl and agree at the same time."

She laughed once, wet and shaky, then wiped her face against her shoulder. She needed to see what she was doing.

Outside, an engine came closer. Men argued near the wrecked van. Dove couldn’t make out the words, and she didn’t waste time inventing reassurance from sounds she couldn’t understand.

Edrik asked where she hurt, and she told him her side and tail instead of saying nowhere. He knew what a lie sounded like. She let him see her face while she answered, then checked his dressing again. They could be honest with each other without taking turns making the news sound less frightening than it was.

She repeated the aid call. This time the operator answered clearly enough to say the location had been passed north. Help was being sought. She asked how long. The operator couldn’t tell her. Dove looked at Edrik’s legs and forced herself to repeat the location calmly enough to be understood.

Dove thanked him anyway. Somebody knew where they were.

When she moved to reach another dressing, pain pulled sharply across her hip. She looked down, irritated at herself for noticing, and saw the torn end of her tail beside the wall.

For a moment her mind refused to make sense of it.

The fur was dirty and red. The end was wrong. She could see where the blast and debris had torn it, and the delayed understanding made her stomach lurch so hard that she had to put a hand on the floor.

Edrik followed her gaze. "Dove?"

"Give me a second."

She had lost part of her tail. Not a scratch she could ignore, not something she could explain away because the skirt was ripped. Something that belonged to her was gone.

Then the damaged edge moved.

Dove went completely still. A small patch of new skin was forming where there shouldn’t have been anything, followed by the beginning of pale, damp fur. It wasn’t a whole tail snapping back into place. It was enough to make her stop breathing for a different reason.

*Sprout.*

*I see the change. I cannot yet tell you its full limits.*

*Is that me?*

*It appears to be happening to your body, independently of a shop item being used on that injury.*

Dove stared. She didn’t know whether to laugh, be sick, or demand a much more helpful instruction manual. Her side still hurt. Edrik was still bleeding. Whatever this was, it had not politely waited until she had time to investigate it.

"Something’s happening," she told him. "But I’m here. I’m still here."

He reached for her with the hand that wasn’t holding the dressing. She moved close enough for him to touch her face, and for one second they looked at each other like two people who had both found a new reason to be afraid.

Then somebody called from outside.

"Road’s secured. We’ve got transport for the injured."

Dove turned toward the doorway. Beyond the ruined van stood the recovery truck, its familiar sign hanging in the windshield. A man at the back was lowering a square board onto the ground beside the rear step. Another held a broad shield while a third looked toward the workshop.

She recognized the board before she recognized his face.

Edrik’s hand tightened around hers.

"Don’t go out," he said.

Dove looked at his legs, at the radio that couldn’t bring help fast enough, and at the men who had arrived exactly when she was most desperate.

"I’m not leaving you," she said, loud enough for them to hear.