Dzar-Ghan (Alien Barbarians of Vandruk #3)

18. Chapter 18

The first rays of the sun tickled my forehead and I blinked my eyes open. I felt weaker than a newborn. Just opening my eyes seemed like an effort. Something heavy was lying on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I lifted my head as far as I could and made out silvery hair. The jolt of relief that ran through me was quickly followed by a rush of memories of the events of yesterday.

Now that my mind was clearing, I noticed the wisps of breath coming from Jenna, brushing against my chest. She was sound asleep in my arms. I had no idea how we’d gotten here, but a bandage around my waist told me that Jenna must have done most of the heavy lifting.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. What a gallis. She had taken care of me while I was out. She must have even got us out of the water and dragged me all the way up here into the bushes. If I lifted my head just right, I could barely make out the edge of a lake and the faint sound of rushing water where the impromptu river must still be filling it.

The air smelled fresh and clean as always after a heavy storm. The sounds of rustling announced the wildlife returning from their hiding spots to resume their normal day routines.

My throat was parched as if I hadn’t drunk anything in ages, probably from the amount of blood I must have lost, which also explained why I felt so weak and lightheaded and the pounding pain between my temples. I was reluctant to disturb Jenna in her sleep to quench my thirst. She had done a lot of work last night and deserved the rest. I leaned my head back against whatever served as a pillow and closed my eyes, hoping to fall back asleep.

Lying still made it, however, impossible to ignore her presence. The fullness of her breasts pressed against me, the wisps of her hair by my arm and neck, the sweet breaths she took against my chest. Despite my exhausted state, my cock stirred, reasserting its willingness to claim the gallis as mine.

A shoveling sound roused me from my semi-drifting; my hand moved to my sword but found nothing. Had I lost it in the water? In my current weakened state, that would put Jenna and me in great danger.

I raised my upper body further, disturbing Jenna in her sleep enough to make her mutter a few words I didn’t understand and ignored as my eyes tried to move through the thick bushes.

The long nose of a skinny drycken—deer-like animal—appeared first, followed by another, belonging to a more mature drycken who would make a great dinner if I only had my sword. Careful not to disturb the animals and give our position away, my eyes hunted for the sword, which I hoped Jenna might have taken from me and put somewhere else. I was surprised to find it bound to her hip but not as surprised to see a light gash on her upper arm, where she must have cut herself with it.

Gently, I moved my arm from under her head to pull the sword out, willing the drycken in my mind to stay put. The rest of their bodies appeared, and the smaller one began to nuzzle a bush to eat the leaves. Good, come a bit closer , I willed it with my mind. I would take the skinny one if that was my only choice. Both would be better, but I would be happy with one. I readied my sword arm as it came closer still, making me wonder if Vorag himself was willing it here to sacrifice itself for us. It wouldn’t be unheard of.

I was still weak, but lifting the sword was like second nature. I readied it for a quick stab…

“No!” Jenna cried, and the two dryckens took off running.

“What?” I exclaimed, staring at the gallis.

“Don’t hurt them.” She protested, and part of her words penetrated my fuzzy mind and even translated.

“That was our breakfast.” I tried to sound not as flabbergasted and outraged as I felt. Had she truly just purposefully chased off our meals?

“Ihavefood,” she mumbled something intelligible and rummaged through her backpack. “See?”

All I saw was an assortment of small packages.

My head turned in the direction the drycken had taken off. If I had just a bit more strength, I would be able to—

“Letme see yourwound,” Jenna said, pushing me flat back down.

Her hands tugged at the clothes she had wound around me, and with a sigh, I gave myself up to her ministrations and lifted my hips so that she could unwind the bindings. That little exercise robbed me of all my energy, making it hard to recall why I was angry with her. Dinner/Breakfast, right.

“Hmm.” She pulled something off my skin, pulling hair with it, and I held my breath in expectation of more pain. I hoped the gallis knew what she was doing. Not fully trusting her, I exerted myself some more by sitting up to see the extent of my injury. The jagged cut extended about the length of my forearm, but surprisingly, it didn’t look deep as the edges of my skin were pressed together, and only a faint red line in the center stood out. Still, it felt like it was much deeper.

I creased my brown and brought my fingers down to investigate, which she promptly slapped, huffing, “Infection.” Which I had no clue what it meant.

She squirted something else on the red line that burned like fire, but I had experienced worse. Next, she squeezed a white paste from a small envelope onto the red line and put white clothes over it before binding me back up.

“Idon’tlikehowred it looks,” she complained.

Too tired to figure out what she meant, I leaned back down. Only to feel waro against my lips not much later.

“Drink,” she ordered.

Greedily and gratefully, I obeyed.