Faemustrecoverquicklybecause something wet nudges my back, and through blurry eyes, I see the giant white wolf standing. He inclines his head and understanding dawns. With great effort, I pull myself onto his back.
The tips of his fur are frozen with frost. But there’s no other way. I don’t think I could take a single step.
I have no idea where we’re going, only that soft snowfall covers me, and all the cold of winter has seeped into my bones.
Distantly, I register the biting wind has lessened, and I blink my eyes open to reveal the solid stone walls of a cave.
The wolf gives a great heave and collapses. I tumble off him, hitting the rocky ground. Keldarion’s eyes flutter closed, and I take in the extent of the wounds along his body. A trail of blood has followed us into the cavern.
And I realize, maybe fae don’t recover that quickly. Even if they’re beasts. Maybe he gave everything he had to get me here.
“Where are we?” I ask, pushing myself up and looking around the cave. It’s a small inlet with smooth walls, lit only by the bright moonlight.
“One of Ezryn’s caches,” Keldarion grits out, pain lacing each word.
Okay, Rosalina, time to get your act together. Keldarion is wounded. We’re too far away from the castle to make it there. I’m at high risk for hypothermia.
One of Ezryn’s caches. He must use these when he spends the long days out in the Briar hunting goblins. Which means there must be supplies here. A shiny wooden container sits tucked near the back wall, obstructed by shadows. I crawl to it, trying to ignore the pain in my leg and arm, and the fact I can’t feel my fingers and toes right now.
There’s a small lock in the shape of a cherry blossom, but it clicks open at my touch.Pretty shoddy security, Ez.But then again, I can already tell that while vicious, these goblins aren’t exactly geniuses.
As soon as I lift the lid, I let out a prayer to the Spring Prince. This thing is chocked full of resources. Blankets, extra clothes, what looks to be dried packets of food, canteens of water, a plain metal helmet, matches, and… I open a woven pouch to reveal long strips of bandages and several tins of strong-smelling ointment. Hopefully, that’s enough medicine to help a giant wolf.
“Make a fire first,” Keldarion barks. “Get warm then treat your wounds.”
“It’s only a scrape.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not the one bleeding a puddle onto the ground.”
The blood pooling around his back leg makes my heart seize with worry. But I take his advice on the fire. I’ll be no good to anyone if my fingers are too frozen to work.
There’s a pile of wood in the corner and matches at the bottom of the crate. With my limited embarrassing camping skills and Keldarion’s growls of everything I’m doing wrong, I get a decent fire going.
A few choice curse words escape my lips as my fingers prickle, then defrost.
“Now, I have to see how hurt you are.” I turn to Keldarion. “Can you turn back into a man? It will be easier.”
He points his snout to the cave entrance. Stars flicker in the navy sky.
“Right. It’s still night.” I knot my fingers behind my neck, then smirk at him. “Well, I did want to be a veterinarian when I was a kid.”
It’s hard to tell on the maw of a wolf, but I think I earn a smile… or a pained grimace. The ice on my dress is melting and cold water drips down my legs. But none of that matters until Kel is better, or at least not bleeding. I grab the first aid pouch and sit before him, grateful for the warmth of the fire on my back.
Spreading the contents of the pouch before me, I let out a little sigh of delight. “God, I love Ez.”
Kel raises a wolfy brow.
I pick up the first tin and hold it before his snout. “He labeled the containers with numbers and pictographs. Very helpful. I mean, I’m still not sure what they all do, but he healed me before, so I trust he knows what he’s doing.”
“Healing is a magic many rulers of the Spring Realm have possessed,” Keldarion says. “Ezryn is talented. He could be masterful if he saw the virtue in it as he does his other gifts.”
I continue organizing the supplies. If I had to guess, there seems to be a mixture of an acidic smelling disinfectant, a smooth white balm, and a clear gel sealant.
I know the disinfectant stings because Kel lets out a snarl and bares his large fangs when I apply it. He doesn’t scare me anymore; I flick him on the nose and tell him to stop being such a baby.
I work from the largest cuts to the smallest. Thankfully, the sealing gel stops the bleeding, but I can’t do much about the blood tangled in his fur. I have to work carefully around the jutting ice spikes on his body, though it seems most of the frost is melting. Will the wounds still be there when he turns back into a fae? Will it be better or worse?
As I pack away the supplies, Kel nudges my leg with his wet snout. “Don’t forget.”
I apply the balms to myself, then bite out another curse. “Shit, that really does sting.”