Tamara grunted as she pulled the soaked bandage away from her arm, the pain returning with full force. The wound was deep and she could clearly see the torn muscles partially covering the bone. She knew it was bad and it would soon fester, but she was going to be damned if she let herself die from an infection.
She glanced at Simon, who was crouching by the spring they had stumbled upon, filling up his water flask. His clothes were almost as dirty and torn as hers from the days they spent running and hiding, but apart from a few scratches, he looked unharmed. He seemed more resilient than she gave him credit for, but it was still a mystery to her how he had stayed alive when so many of her well-trained warriors didn’t.
“That doesn’t look good.” Tamara heard him say, so she turned just a
