High above the gorge, the moon was trapped between the mountain peaks. It was well past midnight, and the air was getting dangerous. Xiao Zhi could feel the cold doing more than just touching her skin, but it was soaking deep into her bones.
Beside the tall pine, Ruhan was losing ground. His whimpering had become a constant, low sound that tore at her nerves. When she pressed her palm to his forehead, her heart sank. He was burning up. A feverish heat that signaled the beginning of an infection. Between the blood loss and the mountain chill, he wouldn't last until morning without warmth.
"Don't die yet," she muttered, her voice trembling from the cold. "I haven't finished being angry at you."
She spent the next hour dragging herself through the dark, gathering dry brush and fallen pine branches. Her body screamed in protest, but the sight of Ruhan's shivering frame pushed her forward.
