Chapter 6The last thing Tuxtax remembered feeling as he drifted off to sleep was the throbbing pulse of the wound in his wrist. Rixa had helped him cut open a vein on both his wrist and Em’s; he had smiled nervously and given unsure reassurances to Em as Rixa had bound their wounds together. Em had tangled her fingers in his; she squeezed his hand in pain as his ichor entered her bloodstream. She gave one pain-filled expletive and fell limp in his arms. He remembered pulling her form close as he, too, succumbed.
But as he woke, he found his wrist no longer hurt, and Em was no longer by his side. Instead he heard the sound of Rixa’s tittering laughter echoing through their oaken shelter as he and Em chatted amicably. She sat upon the centaur’s back, sewing a new skirt out of her old dress.
