Chapter 3
“Sir?” Charles said as he sank to his knees to shake the man. “Sir, can you hear me?” There was no reply, but the man was clearly freezing, his lips having taken on an alarming bluish tinge. Charles took one large hand in his and chafed it, but to no avail. He continued his ministrations as he looked around the entrance hall frantically for inspiration. He needed to get the man dry, warm; get some food or drink inside him, and hope that he regained his senses. He doubted he would be able to get to the village to summon assistance, and by the time he got back it might be too late. What in God’s name was he to do?
Fear and anxiety bloomed in an almost overwhelming wave. What if he was unable to revive him? What if he…Charles squeezed his eyes shut.
Stop it. Just stop it, Farrington.