Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Margot woke with an eerie sense of foreboding as her senses made the slow climb to consciousness. She'd had the strangest dreams. Tumultuous, chaotic, and full of confusing imagery and sensations she couldn't quite remember beyond how disturbing they had been. But this wasn't a dream. This was reality. Yet something was definitely wrong.

Her eyes peeled open uncomfortably, her lids stuck firmly from many hours of sleep.

"What the—" she started to say as she attempted to sit up when a sharp pain in her side under her arm put an abrupt stop to that. "Fuck!" she blurted, the ache suddenly erupting into a fiery burn radiating through her chest and belly, spreading to her limbs like an electric shock.

She lay very still, breathing deep, forcing herself to remain calm. She could see she was in the treehouse. But what had happened? It all started coming back to her. The outing. The tripwire and the trap. Being pierced with an arrow. Not only her but?—

"Braxxos!" she blurted, her head swiveling as best she could manage, looking for her lover.

He was nowhere to be found, the treehouse empty but for her, and the door sealed up tight. She fought down the panic. He had somehow carried her back here and tended her wound despite his own injury. He had to be okay, didn't he? But why had he left her there in this condition?

"He's probably out gathering supplies," she rationalized, cautiously rolling to her other side and very slowly pushing herself to a seated position.

She looked down at the bandaged area along her flank. He'd swapped the makeshift dressing for a proper one. Some sort of plant paste was stuck to her skin beneath it, likely acting as a natural antibiotic and protective barrier for her wound. Margot gently touched her side, feeling the pain but without the shock of before, assessing just how bad her injury was.

"Missed my lung," she noted with relief.

If that had been pierced, there was no way she could have survived that sort of injury. Not out here without proper medical care. There was only so much you could do with medicinal plants no matter how skilled one might be with them.

She gingerly rose to her feet, a bit wobbly at first, but her legs quickly growing steady beneath her. She slowly walked to the door to call for her man. It was not only shut, but it was bolted solidly from the outside. A flare of panic hit her. She was locked in.

"It's okay," she told herself. "He's just being extra cautious I don't go falling down the ladder is all."

It was a stretch, but it was the best she could rationalize. A moment later she realized what it was that felt so off right now. Aside from the whole injury thing.

"It's quiet. Too quiet."

She went back to her cushions and sat down, drinking the container of water Braxxos had placed there for her as she slept. She sat, and she listened.

Nothing.

It had been a while now, but she knew what that had meant the last time she'd experienced the wildlife's utter stillness. It could only mean one thing. The beast was near.

He'll be okay. He knows better than to get in a fight with that monster , she rationalized, hoping her lover was indeed safe and out of the beast's way.

Thinking about him made her stomach flip. A sudden burning sensation across her chest and down both arms and flanks startled her. It felt almost like two swarms of army ants were fighting just beneath her skin. She looked down at the pigment she now bore and was shocked to find she now had traces of green in them. The same green as Braxxos.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, the realization sinking in.

They'd been stuck by the same arrow, impaled together and sharing blood in a very unintentional manner. It had mixed. She had alien blood running in her veins along with her own. And his pigment? It had somehow tried to take hold within her, but it seemed like her own powerful colors had asserted their dominance.

Am I going to die ? she wondered, a little panicked at the thought of alien blood in her body. Is he?

Back home just having the wrong blood type in a transfusion could be fatal. But this? This wasn't even her species.

I'm not dead yet, and it's been… how long has it been?

Judging by the light it was afternoon. But they'd been hurt at dusk. She'd slept nearly a full day. It was already late, and night would come soon. Hopefully after Braxxos returned.

But if that thing is out there, he wouldn't dare come back. Not if it might lead the beast right to me.

She knew then and there she might be stuck in there alone for far longer than she'd initially anticipated. At least there was ample food and water. Braxxos had taken care to make sure she was well stocked up in that regard. But she missed him. Missed him and was worried. He'd been far more gravely hurt than she had. And yet even in his wounded state, he'd put his own well-being aside and tended to her. It made her heart swell with affection, an emotional surge that, once again, made her tainted pigments flare with discomfort.

"Fucccckk," she grumbled in pain, settling back into her cushions to ride out the horrible sensation, hoping it would ease up sooner than later.

Two days later Margot sat quietly in the somewhat claustrophobic treehouse, more than a bit pent-up from the lack of outside time.

She'd spent much of those two days sleeping, her body wracked with cramps as she heated up with a nasty fever and body aches as she fought off whatever was inside her. Whether it was the alien blood or the alien pigment she didn't know. What she did know was that at the end of the second day her fever finally broke.

She was going to be okay.

Margot greedily drank down several containers of water, as well as a few baskets of fruit and vegetables. She'd not eaten in a while, but now that she was starting to feel human again her appetite returned with a vengeance. That was a pleasant development. Even more was the speed at which her injury appeared to be healing, though she didn't dare remove the dressings yet.

But it felt better. Not great, obviously—she'd just been skewered by an arrow, after all—but worlds better than just a few days ago.

"Whatever's in those plants, that stuff's working like magic," she mused as she checked her bandage. Not a drop of fresh blood to be seen, she was pleased to note.

Another positive turn of events was the return of the normal bustling about of the woodland creatures outside. Their calls and sounds filling the air anew did more to settle her uneasy mind than just about anything at that point. It was that subconscious white noise that told her everything was okay that she'd not even realized she had been taking for granted until it was gone.

And with the safe return of the animals, something else finally came home.

"You left me!" Margot blurted out after Braxxos unbolted the door and carefully climbed inside.

The expression on his face was one of distressed regret. Guilt, even. He had clearly been through a lot, and he looked quite haggard and confused. The three days in the wild without her had not been good for his psyche.

"I am so, so sorry, Margot. It was never my intention to?—"

She silenced him with a kiss, stretching up to plant it on him despite the ache in her side. He bent low, matching her gently restrained, emotional kiss. "Come sit with me," she commanded.

Given how worn out he looked, she didn't think he'd dare object.

They sat on the cushions, nestled cozily against one another. Survivors, the pair of them, and all because of his selfless act.

"You took an arrow for me," she said, kissing his neck tenderly.

"And I would do so again."

"Let me see," she replied, pulling his shirt up to get a better look at his injury.

Incredibly, his skin seemed almost healed. It was impossible, especially given where he'd been pierced by the arrow, but, somehow, all that remained was an angry bit of scar tissue that looked weeks old, not mere days.

Something else caught her attention. His pigment had changed color, the green now far less intense, her own pigment's colors now prominent and intermingled.

"What happened to you? To us?"

"Our blood," he began, confusion in his voice. "Our pigments…I-I can't say exactly. Something strange has happened."

"Tell me about it."

"You feel it too?"

"I don't know what it is, but my runes are acting all kinds of crazy," she replied, showing him the swirling marking on her chest.

"Your Infala," he said softly, emotion welling in his eyes. "It grows. And your other runes are changing as well. Becoming more."

"But what does it mean?"

"I cannot say for certain. But my body is behaving in a manner I have never experienced, and the only variable is our shared blood. Something is happening, Margot. I just don't know what it is."

The look of love and confusion in his eyes threatened to break her heart right out of her chest. Here was this strong and confident mountain man, and now he'd been brought to his knees, and all because he'd been willing to sacrifice himself to save her. There'd been no guarantee he would even survive the arrow. He had simply moved on instinct when he sensed danger, placing her life above his without a second thought. And now? Now he was a confused mess, and all because of her.

Margot pushed herself back to her feet and extended her hand. "Come on, Mister. We both need some fresh air."

"But your?—"

"No lip from you. I need out of this place and you're my escort. You said you'd always keep me safe, right?"

"I did," he replied, rising to his feet.

"Then let's go. I could really use a bath, and it looks like you could too."