Page 23 of Green Ravens

Once Sawyer had drank all he could, he cupped both hands and splashed some on his face. The sting was so intense it knocked him back on his ass.

He hollered loud enough that Oakley ran to his side.

“Fuck, that fuckin’ burns!”

“I know. Come on, on your feet.” Oakley helped him up once again, took his hand, and pulled him back to the water. “You gotta clean it, then I have something that’ll ease the stinging.”

Sawyer removed his jacket and undershirt and got his first look at the reddened skin and bruises on his right side. It wasn’t as bad as his face and neck, but it might leave some scars.

He clenched his teeth, moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he ducked his head back under the water and took his time washing his hair and cleaning the burns the best he could.

By the time he finished, Oakley had started another fire and was roasting some palm-sized fish on more bamboo skewers.

He put his T-shirt back on but left his jacket unbuttoned as he sat beside Oakley on one of the rocks.

“Where’d you get those?”

Oakley stabbed at the small fire, keeping the flames blazing.

“There’s a deeper pond a little ways down. It’s full of these. It had some decent-sized snails too if you like escargot.”

Sawyer’s stomach rebelled even at the thought.

“Fish is fine.”

Oakley handed one of the stalks to him, watching him pick at the white flesh before putting some in his own mouth.

It didn’t taste like his favorite—Chilean seabass—but it was better than snake meat.

They ate in silence—apart from the intrusive animal noises—until nothing remained of the little guppies but bones.

“How does your face feel now?” Oakley asked as he scooted closer.

“Dry…achy.”

“Come ’ere. Turn and face me.”

Oakley cupped his left cheek and gently palpated the sensitive skin on his neck.

“It’s not infected, and not all of the blisters have burst, so that’s good.”

“Are you a doctor too?” Sawyer asked because he didn’t know what else to say.

The way Oakley had been caring for him was a lot. He wasn’t used to being nurtured or protected.Hewas the protector.

Sawyer flinched when Oakley touched a sore area on his lower jaw.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, easing back. “I’m sure it’ll heal at some point in my life. Scars never bothered me.”

“They don’t bother me either,” Oakley whispered, staring into his eyes.

He was able to breathe easier when Oakley got up, went back to the edge of the pond, and began pulling the leaves he’d gathered during their journey from his pockets.

Sawyer used his swatter to bat away a large spider trying to climb onto his boot, careful not to upset Oakley by killing it. The other insects didn’t bother him as much anymore, but he didn’t do spiders.

Oakley laid out some of the dampened leaves on a smooth stone and the others he put on a stone close to the fire.

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