No one in the square spoke. Their Alpha had been dead on that field.
The open wound in the corpse's chest left no room for a healer's mistake. The rain had washed the blood from his face, and his skin had already lost its color.
My younger body moved at the edge of the screen. I crawled through the mud toward him, dragging a leg broken badly enough for the bone to grind with every pull.
Rogue blades had opened my side and shoulder. I left a gold trail across the mud, yet I kept my eyes on Callan and pulled myself closer.
Callan's skin was cold when I reached him. Rain ran through the open wound in his chest.
I found a jagged piece of black obsidian in the mud and opened my wrist. Gold spread over my palm. I pressed the wound to his mouth and forced my blood between his lips.
“Live,”
