Page 143 of Once Upon a Fable

But I hadn’t fessed up.

I’d buried it outside by the cucumbers.

I’d waited until I’d counted eighteen guests had appeared through the cave.

And now...

Now, I was going to use it.

Or die trying.

CHAPTER FOUR

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THE CLOCK IN THE LIBRARY struck midnight by the time I finished washing away the mud from his skin and hair. The old-fashioned minute hand tick, tick, ticked as I applied antiseptic cream to his cuts, bandaged sore knuckles, stuck butterfly stitches to the lacerations on his chest, and rubbed arnica into fresh bruises.

I’d managed to get some water past his lips, coaxing him to drink even while he remained unconscious. Occasionally, he acted as if he’d wake up. His pulse would skyrocket, his body would wince, and his forehead would furrow. He’d moan in his sleep about games and friends and blood.

His delusions didn’t last long, the tension in his body draining, leaving him catatonic once again. During his episodes, I kept my hands on his naked chest. I murmured to him that he was safe. That I would take care of him. That all he had to do was open his eyes, and I’d do whatever he needed.

He never responded to me, reserving his reactions to whatever dreams haunted him. Eventually, I ignored his mumbles and flinches, focusing on repairing the exterior wounds, and doing everything I could to repair him.

I worried he’d broken a few bones. The heat in some areas and rapid swelling hinted more than just bruises existed.

But until he was awake, I couldn’t know for sure.

And even if hehadbroken pieces of himself, what did I know about setting bones? I only knew rudimentary things like making a splint for a broken leg and a sling for a broken arm—just enough to get back tocivilization for help.

Not for the first time, my mind ran from the library and flew up the cliff to my Jeep. I mentally made the drive out of the national park and into a populated town with doctors, police, and psychiatrists.

I’d bring them all here or find a way to take Anon to them.

I’d pass on the largest responsibility of my life to professionals who had trained for this.

I...I don’t know what I’m doing.

Kneeling over him, I made a deal with myself.

If he hung on until morning, if I could get him stable enough, if he would only justwake upso I knew he could eat and drink, I’d go for help. I’d somehow make the long journey, not to save myself but to save him.

Crazy how just a few short hours had changed everything.

Incredible how I’d gone from doing anything to get away from this man to doing whatever it took to keep him alive.

Please...wake up.

Don’t die.

My hands trembled as my courage faltered a little.

Dammit.

I dropped the tube of antiseptic for the third time as I tried to apply it to the cuts I’d given him last night. Indentations of my car keys still lingered around his throat and collarbones.

Guilt was a crushing, hissing enemy in my heart.

My shoulders slouched.