Harper's fingers trembled as she pressed against her lower back, and a sharp sting coursed through her spine. Her palm came away dark and sticky—she was bleeding, badly. Her clothes clung to her skin, cold and soaked, almost freezing in the chill of the waterfall mist. She stood up with effort, knees wobbling, but forced herself forward into the forest brush nearby.
Her eyes scanned the ground. She crouched, gritting her teeth as the pain in her back pulsed with every move, and gathered a few damp logs and dry stones. Her arms felt heavy, but she carried them back to the spot by the riverbank where Quincy lay unmoving, his lips pale, his clothes still soaked from their jump.
She knelt beside him and quickly got to work. Her hands struck the stones together again and again until, finally—a spark. The fire roared to life slowly, licking up into a gentle warmth. She stripped off her wet clothes, now heavy and freezing against her skin, and stood stark naked in front of the fire, steam curling off her body as it met the heat. Her skin was covered in bruises, scratches, and blood, but she ignored the sting. She needed to get warm before she passed out.
She laid her soaked clothes near the fire and then dragged Quincy's body closer to the heat, hoping it would draw the cold out of him. But still… he didn't wake.
The sky darkened above them. Night had come, the air dropping even lower in temperature with the roar of the waterfall in the distance. Harper glanced at the boy lying lifeless next to her. She felt her chest clench.
She reached for a strip of cloth, wrapping it tightly around her chest to bind herself again, and wound another around the open wound on her back. She hissed as it touched raw skin but pulled it tighter. Survival didn't allow softness.
Then she turned to Quincy again.
She knelt, slid her arms under him carefully, and pulled his limp body into her embrace. His skin was icy. Her arms wrapped around him tight, trying to give him what warmth she had left.
"You should be fine, Quincy. You should be fine…" she murmured.
She rocked slightly, holding him longer, forehead resting against his. Still, no response. Her fingers dug into his back slightly, willing him to move, to breathe.
Eventually, she slipped her top back on and lay down beside him on the ground, pulling his hand into hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her body exhausted. The fire crackled softly beside them, and the dark, heavy air filled with the distant roar of water. Sleep dragged her under like a tide.
Hours later…
Quincy stirred.
His eyes fluttered open to pitch blackness, lit only by faint embers glowing orange. His head throbbed—an awful, stabbing ache that made him wince. He groaned and sat up slowly, squinting as he looked around. The forest was quiet. The fire was low.
Beside him, Harper was curled up asleep.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips despite the pain. She was still here. She'd stayed.
He stood up sluggishly, pressing a hand to his temple—and the rustling came.
Someone stepped out of the bush, their footsteps practiced and silent.
"Boss," the figure whispered.
Quincy straightened, instantly alert despite the pain.
"Let's go home now."
A second figure approached.
"How about the boy? Should we take him?"
Quincy's voice was quiet but firm. "No. Taking him might cause trouble for me. He is one of Ross's best men."
The guards shifted.
"Why did you allow him to face the assassin alone? We could have helped."
Quincy turned, his eyes steely. "Then Ross will find out that we knew something. Let's give them the satisfaction that Logan tried to kill me and was able to cover his tracks well enough."
"Yes, boss."
"We can come back for the boy later on."
"Alright, boss."
Quincy cast one last glance at Harper, still asleep, her arm tucked close to her wound. His jaw clenched as emotion flickered through him—then he turned away.
"Let's go now," he ordered, and disappeared into the darkness with his guards.
A little while later…
Harper's brow furrowed as consciousness began to creep in. Her head ached dully. She sat up slowly, her eyes scanning the clearing.
Quincy wasn't there.
Her heart stopped.
"Quincy!" she called, the name tearing out of her chest. She stood quickly, dizzy and confused, looking around frantically.
A twig snapped behind her.
Her instincts screamed—she grabbed her knife in a flash and turned, eyes sharp and ready to strike—
THWACK!
A heavy blow slammed into the side of her head. Her knees buckled. Her knife clattered to the ground. The world spun and dimmed around her.
Darkness swallowed her.
She was taken away.