When I woke, my wrist had been wrapped in clean bandages.
A layer of dry grass had been spread beneath me, and melted snow dripped steadily from the rocky ceiling overhead.
A man was crouched beside a small fire. The moment he heard me stir, he turned around.
"Don't move too much. You'll tear the wound open again."
I tried to push myself up, but he was already beside me.
He placed a steady hand on my shoulder and handed me a bowl of water. "Drink first."
I stared at him warily and made no move to take it.
He gave a faint smile and simply set the bowl closer. "If I meant you any harm, I wouldn't have saved you."
That shut me up.
After a moment, I took the bowl and drank a few sips.
Then I remembered the wolves closing in on me through the snow. My fingers immediately tightened aro
