Chapter 25: He Takes My Hands

I gasped at the sensation of cold after leaving a body of water.

The pink sky began to darken to blue.

Water splashed beneath me. I was being moved.

I was being held.

I grabbed his shirt and looked at his face. “Rowan?”

He nodded in short absent motions, eyes wide in a thousand mile stare, crown on his head. “Uh-huh?” His face was wet and his eyes were gleaming, but he didn’t seem panicked. Shaken, for certain, but not panicked.

I pulled myself up to be closer to his face. “Rowan??”

He glanced at me. “Yeah?”

I pressed my hand to his open leather vest. I couldn’t find the bullet holes.

Out of the stream, he sat me down at a dry distance, kneeling downhill so that we were eye level.

“You’re alive!” I rasped, wondering at what point the vision had slipped away from reality. My voice squeaked, still hoarse from the sands and from screaming.

“I’m - alive, yes.” His gaze frantically flitted with each passing thought. Wherever his mind took him, he wasn't entirely present.