Chapter 0205

Time moves strangely after that, at once standing completely still in my agony and, somehow,

passing so fast that I barely understand it when the sun reaches its zenith, and then passes beyond

it, and then starts to sink towards the horizon.

How…how have hours past?

God, how have I survived them?

Though it all, Jackson and my pain have kept a steady pace. I do my best to curl myself against

him, to make myself small and inconsequential, to not be a bother to this man who is running miles

and miles across the countryside with me balanced in his arms.

The pain is…god, it drives me a little insane, I think, gnawing at my stomach and my leg. I can feel

the blood dripping from me, at once agonizing and, somehow, a balm against the raw flesh of my

wounds. I think I pass out…a lot, but regular infusions of Jackson’s magic keeps bringing me back,

filling me with energy, making my eyes flutter open.

Always, always he’s glancing down into my face, checking to make sure that I’m okay –

But, I mean, we’re both aware that I’m not okay.

But, somehow, I am alive.

And, somehow, he…keeps running.

I’m vaguely aware, as the hours pass, that this part of the Examination was meant to be done in

wolf form – that he should have shifted by now and crossed this field at his top speed as his gigantic

wolf. But even in his human body, carrying me? Frankly, Jackson’s faster than most cadet’s wolves.

Only a few of them pass us, sending us side-long glances and not bothering to interrupt, knowing

that Jackson would end them if they did.

Jackson’s breath only starts to flag when I feel his pace change. I lift my head, curious despite my

haze of pain, wondering desperately if we’re at the end –

If there will be a healer, here –

Surely there has to be – surely the Academy has medical staff waiting, knowing as they do that this

is a violent Examination in which they’ve encouraged us to maim each other, to get to the end.

I scowl a little, my mind wandering strangely as I make a mental note to have a deep conversation

with my father and my uncle about this particular aspect of Academy life.

Because, quite frankly, I’m not sure I agree with these methods.

But…will I ever live to see them again, to have that conversation?

Suddenly terrified, I sob, my hand clenching in Jackson’s shirt as I turn my face into him. I don’t

have any tears, though – all my liquids are probably depleted, after all, from all the blood dropping

from me…

“It’s all right,” Jackson murmurs, pulling me closer against his chest. “We’re almost there.”

I pause, looking up at him, a little baffled. “Really?” I whisper, and I’m startled by the cracked sound

of my own voice, the way my eyes struggle to focus on his beautiful face.

“Well,” he grimaces, glancing upwards. “Well, no.”

I groan, putting my head back against his chest. Not that it’s his fault – I just…god, I want it to end.

All of it, the pain, the movement –

I just want to sleep, curl up somewhere soft and comfortable.

“Come on,” he says, shaking me a little, making me look back up at him, his voice cracking in a way

that breaks my heart. “Don’t give up on me now, Ari!”

I lift my head, forcing my eyes to focus, forcing my head to nod. But it’s all – it’s all really hard,

maybe too much. “Jacks,” I moan, shaking my head.

“Don’t you do it,” he growls, his arms tightening around me. “I did not drag you for miles across that

field for you to give up now, Ari –“

I laugh – a sad, croaked sound, half baffled and half tickled that he’s mad at me. But something

about it brings me back to myself, a little bit more. “Okay,” I whisper, nodding my head seriously

now. “I won’t give up.”

“Good,” he mutters, a little mad, again pressing his hand to my back and giving me more of his

power, his energy, his magic. I feel the difference instantly, the boost, but all it does is allow me to

focus more on his grimace. “I need to…to change positions, Ari,” he murmurs. “I’m going to need

both of my hands.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Just…don’t hate me, okay?” He stares into my face and I nod, promising it.

But I instantly regret that promise when he lifts me, bodily, and slings me over his shoulder. The

moan that rips from me instantly turns into a yell, if not a guttural scream. Jackson murmurs over

and over again that he’s sorry, but then he moves forward, even as I cry ceaselessly into his back.

My body is twisted over his shoulder, somehow, so that the weight of me isn’t on the wound.

Instead, that faces inward, bumping awkwardly against Jackson’s head and sometimes his cheek

as he begins to climb. Most of the time he keeps one arm wrapped tightly around the back of my

thighs, and my legs go blissfully numb, meaning I can’t feel the arrow in my thigh anymore.