Chapter 59: Logan II

Azura’s POV

The distance between Logan and me was not long, but every step on my bad leg reminded me it was there. That sharp pain worked its way up through my hip. I kept my face even. I kept my steps slow and steady. I could feel the complete silence that had fallen over everyone behind me. It was the silence of people watching something happen that they were afraid to see the end of.

Logan heard me. He turned.

Those red eyes locked onto me. The snarl deepened into something that vibrated in my chest. He was coiled and still, like he was one second away from attacking.

I kept walking. I held both my hands up, palms forward and fingers open. I showed him I had nothing in them.

"Easy," I said quietly. "Easy, Logan."

He did not lunge. The snarling did not stop, but he did not come at me.

One more step. Then another. I was close enough now to see his breath in the cool evening air. I was close enough to see the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

"It is me," I said. I kept my voice small and steady, like a candle flame in the wind. "You know me. I know you do."

I took another step.

"Everyone is safe," I told him. "The fight is over. It is done." I watched his eyes. They were still red and burning at the edges. "It is time to let Rhydor come back. He needs to come back now. Will you do that for me?"

The snarling dropped in pitch. It was still there, but it was lower. I reached out slowly toward his muzzle. I reached for the soft, dark leather of his nose. My fingers made contact and he went completely rigid all at once. Every part of him locked up.

I kept my hand there.

"Logan," I said softly. "Let him come back. Everyone is safe. Let him come back."

Something changed. I felt it more than saw it. The air between us shifted the way it does before a storm turns. The red in his eyes moved. It faded from the outside edges inward, slowly. Amber pushed through from the rim toward the center like the right color finally returning after a long absence.

The snarling stopped.

He pressed his muzzle into my palm. It was a slow and deliberate weight. The sound he made then was nothing like the sounds from before. It was quiet and low. It was a sound that sat in my chest differently. He turned his great head and pressed the side of it against my hand. He stayed there, leaning into me.

Behind me, someone let out a long, shaking breath of relief.

The shift came quickly. One moment the wolf was there, and the next, Rhydor landed on his hands and knees on the ground. His head was down and his shoulders were rising and falling hard. He stayed there breathing for a long moment, trying to find his footing.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

Then Silas stepped toward him. Rhydor raised one hand slightly to stop him. Silas stayed back.

I looked at the burn on Rhydor’s shoulder. Even in the fading light, it was bad. It was dark at the center and the edges were raw and angry. The skin around it looked wrong, like it had not changed since the wound was made. Hours had passed. An Alpha usually healed fast. This wound had not moved at all.

There was no time to stand and think about it. The group was already pulling itself back together out of necessity. The warriors who could help were helping those who could not. Liona was on her feet, unsteady but standing. Torin was beside her. He shifted without being asked and lowered his wolf so she could climb on. She did it slowly. I caught the look on her face as she settled. She was trying very hard to keep her emotions controlled.

I smiled at her and started walking. My leg had other ideas.

It buckled on the third step. The joint caught wrong and I lurched to the side. I caught myself before I went all the way down, one hand hitting a tree trunk. I straightened up fast and looked around to see if anyone had noticed my weakness.

Before I could decide if I had gotten away with it, something caught me from behind. It wasn’t a rough grab. It was a firm, certain lift. Suddenly, my feet were off the ground and I was being carried. One arm was under my knees and one was at my back. I did not need to look up to know who it was. There was only one person in this group who smelled like woodsmoke and something darker underneath it.

"Put me down," I said immediately.

He did not respond. He did not even look at me. He just started walking in the direction of the others. His strides were even and unhurried. It was like he was carrying something that did not weigh anything at all.

"Rhydor. I said put me down. I can walk."

Nothing. He stayed silent.

I shifted, trying to push against his chest. My hand landed directly on his shoulder. It landed on the burn. He did not cry out. He did not make a sound. But his whole body tightened. Every muscle pulled in at once. It was a sharp response that lasted less than a second before he forced himself back into a state of nothingness.

I pulled my hand away immediately. I felt terrible.

I stopped arguing. I stopped moving. I just sat in his arms and looked at the side of his face. I watched the hard line of his jaw. He was staring straight ahead and breathing through what had to be terrible pain. He didn’t let any of it show on his face.

Something in my chest hurt a little. It had nothing to do with my leg. I did not say anything else for the rest of the walk.

The clearing they chose was wider than the woods we had come from. It was more open and easier to see around. No tents went up because nobody had the energy for it. Bedrolls came out of the supply packs and a fire was built in the center. People found spots and simply dropped into them. The injured were helped first. They were cleaned up and wrapped. Within an hour, the sounds of the camp had gone from urgent to quiet.

Rhydor set me down near Liona without looking at my face. Then he walked to the far edge of the firelight and sat down alone in the dark.

Axel came to me soon after. He knelt in front of me and ran his hands over my hip. He knew exactly what he was feeling for. He pressed in two places and I bit down on the scream that tried to come out.

"Dislocated," he said. "I am going to put it back."

"I know," I said, trying to be brave.

He looked up at the warrior beside him. "Get me something for her to bite on."

A folded strip of leather appeared. I took it and put it between my back teeth. Axel looked at me. "I will pull on three. Ready?"

I nodded.

He started counting. "One."

And then he just moved. He didn’t wait for three.

"Ahh! You son of a bitch!"

The pull was sharp and total. The sound I made around the leather was embarrassing. The pain peaked hard. It was white and enormous. Tears came before I could stop them, spilling down my face without my permission. Then the joint found its place again with a loud pop. The pain dropped immediately to something I could handle.

I heard the camp go quiet around me. Everyone had heard me.

I pulled the leather from my mouth and wiped my face fast with the back of my hand. I straightened up and blinked the last of the tears away.

"Done," Axel said simply. "Be careful with it. Do not push it too hard."

I nodded and looked up. Several warriors were watching me with respect. Across the fire, standing at the far edge of the light, Rhydor was looking at me too. For one moment, his eyes were on my face, steady and unreadable. Then someone moved between us. When the space cleared again, he was looking at the ground.

I looked away first. Liona was settled near me. Her wounds were cleaned and her eyes were fighting to stay open.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"I am fine," I said. "Sleep, Liona."

"Is he okay?" She glanced toward the far edge of the fire.

I looked. Rhydor was still sitting alone. He was holding a cloth in his fist, gripping it like he was angry. He was not using it to clean his wound. The burn on his shoulder looked exactly as bad as it had before.

"Someone will see to him," I said, though I wasn’t sure.

Her eyes closed within two minutes. One by one, the camp went quiet. Until the only sounds were the fire and the night around us.

I looked at Rhydor. He was still sitting there. He was still staring at the flames. He was still holding that cloth with his knuckles tight, doing absolutely nothing to help himself.

I got up carefully. I tested the leg before trusting it. It held. I went to Liona’s pack and found what I needed. I found some drawing salves and clean linen strips. I carried them across the firelight to where he was sitting and stopped in front of him.

He did not look up.

"Your wound is not healing," I said.

"Leave it."

"It has been hours, Rhydor."

"I said leave it."

I looked at him for a moment. I looked at the tight line of his jaw. "For once," I said quietly, "stop being stubborn and let someone help you. You cannot do everything alone. Sometimes people need help. Even you."

Silence stretched between us. Then he looked at me. He had that same cold expression, the same armor he always wore. But he was looking at me. After a long moment, his fist opened and the cloth fell from his hand.

I sat down beside him. When I leaned close enough to see the wound properly, something moved in my chest. It was bad. The center was dark, almost black. It was a burn that had been burning for hours with no intention of stopping. He had been sitting here alone in this much pain.

I uncapped the flask of cleaning solution. "This will sting," I said.

He said nothing. I took it as a yes.

I cleaned the wound carefully. When the liquid reached the deepest part, his entire body pulled tight. It was a sharp tension that passed in less than a second. He did not make a single sound.

"Sorry," I said, and went slower.

I worked the salve gently around the damaged skin. He was completely still under my hands. It was the kind of stillness that costs a lot of energy. When I finished, I wrapped the linen around his shoulder and tied it off. Then I stood up.

"Goodnight," I said.

I walked back to my bedroll and lay down. I pulled the blanket up and closed my eyes. But sleep did not come. The fire had dropped to a low orange glow. The camp was silent. My hip ached, but that wasn’t what was keeping me awake.

It was that warmth. That specific prickling across the back of my neck that I had learned to recognize.

I opened my eyes.

Across the dying fire, Rhydor was looking at me. Not at the flames. Not at the trees. At me. His amber eyes were steady and still in the low light.

I looked back. Neither of us looked away.

My heart picked up speed without my permission. I lay there looking at him, and the questions came in quietly. What is he thinking right now? What happened back there when he pressed his face into my palm and came back? Why did he lose control?

The fire crackled once and sent a small spray of sparks up into the dark. He was still looking at me. I was still looking at him.

And I did not have a single answer to any of it.