Chapter Eight
I stood helpless at Patchy’s side with one of my hands hovering over his giant eye. It was made up of circles within circles of red, orange, black and more red. The pupil was bigger than my head.
He looked back at me and stopped struggling. His left hand-fin trembled on the icy ground, sending up puffs of steam. He tried to blink at me, but his eyelids were drying out. I heard them scrape across his eyes. They couldn’t shut all the way, no matter how many times he tried.
I wanted to scream in frustration, but I was afraid of making things worse. ‘Patchy, Patchy, I’m so sorry. It’s going to be all right. Just hold on. I’ll fix this.’
I searched around me for something—anything—to make him better. Ransom was right about the Heest. That much was clear, and completely unhelpf
