Chapter 15

My eyelids flutter. I feel someone sharply jerk back as I slowly force them open. “Raven, you scared the soul out of me,” Dylan breathes, dragging his hand through his soot-streaked hair. I slowly push myself up to a sitting position, leaning against a hard, rough wall. The cave. “I didn’t know you could ever be scared,” I scoff weakly. “What were you doing that close to me anyway?”

He looks embarrassed. “Giving you mouth-to-mouth respiration.”

I pull a disgusted face. “No, absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, you would’ve been a pile of ashes if it wasn’t for me,” Dylan mutters, his gaze challenging. “I’m surprised you still have energy to argue.”

“I was fine,” I protest. He musters a dry laugh.

“Right. Of course you were,” he says flatly.

I roll my eyes. My chest still burns at every breath. I scan him down, and realize he has many burns and scrapes on his arms, face, and neck. A strong scent of oil covers his body. He got all that from the fire. I look at my own battered skin, and found ointment and bandages. It stings just a bit. He stayed with me the entire time I was out.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice softening with concern. “You inhaled quite a lot of smoke.”

“Yea,” I murmur, glancing towards the night sky. “I need to get back.”

His expression hardens.

“You’re not going anywhere when you’re in this condition.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he clasps a hand over my mouth.

“No arguing, little Blackbird.”

The familiar nickname sends another wave of emotion crashing over me. I slap his hand away. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, little Blackbird?” Dylan asks innocently, his eyes searching mine teasingly.

“Yes. Don’t call me that.”

“Then what, stubborn?”

I glare at him, and a laugh breaks free from his throat, but his expression immediately tightens when I cough again.

“You should rest.”

“I’m not staying here with you,” I argue.

“You almost died with me, I think you can bear a night.”

The silence after is deafening. The forest is still, and the fire seems to be put out. I glance back at his burns on his arm. He notices quickly and sharply pulls his sleeves down. “Was that from the fire?” I ask gently.

“Some of it,” he mutters.

“Some of it?”

Dylan shrugs and brushes it off like it doesn’t matter, but I can see his shoulders stiffen. “Falling branch.” (ANOTHER WAY TO DESCRIBE IT)

Guilt twists in my stomach. I feel sick.

“You should’ve just left me there,” I can’t help exhaling. His head snaps towards me again. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It would’ve been so much easier for you to-”

“I’m serious, Raven. Don’t say that again,” Dylan growls dangerously, and I’m surprised by the ferocity in his voice. “It was my choice anyway.”

I go quiet, and the silence seems to drag on. The scent of oil waves to me again. I look over. “Dylan?”

“Yea?”

“Why do you smell like oil?”

His eyes darken. “The fire was already spreading before I got there.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I push.

He looks up at the blackened forest, the leaves in ruin, and the ash flying like snow. “I didn’t just feel it. I scented it,” he admits. “And natural fire shouldn’t smell like oil.”

“Oil doesn’t catch fire and spread unless someone did it,” I realize. He stares coldly at the ground.

“No. Someone purposely set it.”

“Who?”

He snorts. “How do you expect me to know? Too many people.”

“You’re an assassin. You should know that.”

“No,” he whispers simply.

“Maybe Thorn?” I breathe. He stares into the distance, thought clouding his eyes.

“She usually likes people alive long enough to be any importance to her. And how do you know it isn’t not someone from Eclipse?” I stiffen in defense.

“My Tribe is loyal.”

His eyes drift back to mine. “Not always. Even the most loyal Tribe has its moments. People hate.” His fingers scrape against the blackened soil, digging deep gashes into the earth. “People judge. People betray.”

I shiver. He’s saying it like he’s lived it.

He shifts and sighs. “We can figure it out later. It’s getting late.”

I instinctively get up, but he grabs me and drags me down again. I shoot a glare. A faint smile tugs at his mouth.

“Idiot.”

“Blackbird,” he says with a tired sigh. “You’re staying here.”

The temperature drops rapidly, until I find myself shuddering. Great. I take in a shivering breath, my chest feeling heavy and pain travels up with every breath. My teeth chatter against each other.

Suddenly, warmth wraps itself over my back. I turn around enough to see Dylan covering me with one of his other jackets, one that doesn’t smell like ash. “I’m not cold,” I say with a look. “Sure you aren’t, pretty birdie,” he says dryly. I try to argue, but another shiver takes over my body. He has a defiant look on his face. “Exactly. That’s what I thought.”

“Oh, shut up,” I snap, trying to take off the jacket. My fingers are stiff and cold, and they end up clumsily slow.

He clicks his tongue slowly, like he’s mocking me. “Don’t even try.”

The jacket feels unreasonably warm and heavy, taunting my eyes to go to sleep. I shift guiltily, looking over at his tight black shirt. “Am I distracting you from sleeping?” He taunts.

“You will never,” I mutter, my cheeks burning. I was about to ask if you’re going to be cold.” His eyes widen in fake surprise.

“Raven? Caring? That’s once in a lifetime.”

I groan. He grins. “I’ll be fine.” My eyes narrow, and my expression slowly softens. “Why do you act like nothing affects you?” I whisper gently, touching his arm. He pulls it away stiffly. “I’ve been through worse.”

“That doesn’t mean you should act so reckless,” I murmur. He turns away. “You should go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” I say, fighting a yawn. His lips curve into a small smile. “What are you scared of?”

“Huh?”

“You’re clearly tired. Afraid I’ll kill you in your sleep?” He jokes, leaning back against the wall.

“You’ll never shut up long enough for me to sleep,” I snap, groaning. My throat feels parched, and I’m sure I’ll never be able to doze off. Dylan chuckles, and pulls something out of his bag and throws it at me. “Ow!” I say, irritated. “What was that for?”

“Chill, little Blackbird. It’s water.” Another bag flies towards me, and this time, I catch it.

“And food,” Dylan adds. “You better go to sleep after this.”

I try to twist the cap open with my shaky hands, but it’s like they’re just laughing at me.

“Need help?”

“No,” I mutter, straining. He smiles. “Sure. Whatever you say, ma’am.”

I glare at him and focus back on the bottle. He snatches it out of my hand and twists it open with one, smooth movement, handing it back to me. “You’re welcome.” I hold onto it, chugging the water. It feels cool and soothing. I close my eyes, cherishing the delicious taste. When I open them again, he’s looking at me quietly. “What?” I ask, annoyed.

“You don’t look half-dead anymore,” he says, a playful look on his smug face. “You still do,” I murmur, throwing the food back at him.

“I’m not hungry.”

My eyelids droop, but I force them open again.

“You know you can go to sleep whenever you want to, right?” Dylan says.

“Yea,” I murmur drowsily. His eyes glisten.

“You still don’t trust me.”

“No, and I still hate you,” I grumble, tossing to the other side.

“Hm. Think about what you want,” he replies. “But go to sleep.”

I finally give in, shifting around to find a comfortable position. The problem is, every wall is rough and sharp, and the ground is cold and dusty. I lean against the wall, then, shift to my side.

“If you keep moving, I’ll throw you outside,” Dylan mutters.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I shoot back at him.

“Oh yes I would, gladly, so stop moving.”

“I can’t get comfortable,” I protest.

“Yea. I noticed,” he says flatly. Then, he taps his thigh slowly, like he’s reluctantly thinking of a solution. He shifts against the wall, closer to me. “What are you doing?” I ask warily. “Solving a problem,” he replies quietly. “But I swear, if you make this weird, I will kick you out,” he adds quickly. I narrow my eyes. He suddenly puts a hand on my shoulder, and guides me towards his chest. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he breathes, looking irritated. “You owe me.”

“Stop, what are you-”

“I’m giving you a place to rest. But if you try to get up and move one more time, I’m actually pushing you out of the cave. You can go sleep outside.”

Despite his words, I try to prop myself up, but he clamps his hands on my shoulder. I try to struggle, but my energy’s so low.

He shifts again, like he’s trying to get comfortable, and exhales sharply. “Go. To. Bed. And. Stop. MOVING.”

I sigh, and cough again, my body racking. “That’s why you should rest,” Dylan points out. I grunt softly, but I’m too weak to argue. I feel myself drifting off. His steady, ash-covered hands brush off the dirt on my sleeves, like he’s trying to erase all of what happened.

The last feeling I get is the rhythm of his hands against me, and I’m too tired to question it. And then, silence wraps me in a dark blanket.