
I caught up to Bran just as the last of the daylight bled from the evening sky. He was a shadow in the darkness of the woods, his movements fearful and erratic, pain driving away his accustomed calm. I tore a length from the hem of my shirt and pressed it against the spot where the arrow protruded from his skin. Without light, I did not trust myself to remove it without injuring him further.
I held his reins and spoke to him in soft words. I told him he was safe, and the pain had to be endured but would soon pass, and he had nothing to fear from the dark. I hoped everything I said was true.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter LX: The Fire”