I’m Alive

DESI

“Are you all right, Mistress?”

I feel a warm and gentle hand on my cheek. Not James. The Hound. I swallow the bitter bile that filled my throat when I thought I was going to die - for real this time - and try to roll onto my side. I have little strength to do even that, so the Hound helps me.

“A Hound?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he says.

“You look different.” I squint at him.

“James?” With the Hound’s support, I sit up and look toward my friend who’s lying on the ground, not moving. “James!”

He groans and I sigh with relief.

“I’m alive. I think.” He rolls over, grinning like a village idiot. He flings out a hand and I grasp it gratefully, joyfully.

He’s alive. I’m alive. I hold his cold, cold hand between mine. I don’t ever want to let go. I don’t want to see my friends on the brink of death ever again.