“Like me?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, you all look the same to me…”
The sound of the cart clattered over the bridge. Eirwen raced over. Even in the dim light, she could clearly see Cole in the back, white-faced and immobile.
“Saints above, Wren, did you kill him?”
“No! I just shot him. And to be honest he made an awful fuss about it.”
Eirwen climbed into the back of the cart, crouching down beside Cole and yanking away the cloak covering his body.
“Cole, are you all right?”
He groaned, opening his eyes. “Will you think less of me if I say no?”
“I couldn’t possibly think any less of you.”
“Well, that hurts more than the arrow…” He clutched his shoulder. “No, I’m not all right, I got shot! I’ve never been shot before. On a scale of one to ten... it is thoroughly unpleasant. I do not recommend it.”
She inspected the wound, parting the fabric around it.
“What say you, lady? Is it mortal? Am I not long for this world?”
“You’re not going to die. You’ll just be a bit uncomfortable for a while.”
“Your version of uncomfortable is remarkably similar to my version of pain.”
“Oh… toughen up.”
“Youtoughen up–”
She grabbed the shaft of the arrow and pulled. Cole let out a low howl.
“I’m plenty tough,” she grinned.
He seethed through gritted teeth as she tossed the arrow aside and pressed her hand to the hole in his shoulder. “You could have warned me!”
“It’s better without warning, trust me.”
Oakley appeared at the base of the cart. “You took the arrow out?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “You always make a mess of that.”
“Make a mess?” Cole looked at her wildly. “What does that mean?”
“It’sfine,” Eirwen insisted. “It’s not a bad wound–”
Oakley tutted. “I’ll be the judge of that. Come on, let’s get him into my hut.”
Eirwen hauled him to his feet, ducking under his good shoulder. Oakley held his waist at the other side as Merry hurried forward to open the door.
“Duck,” said Eirwen.
“What?”
Cole’s head hit the low frame of the door. “Ow!” he hissed. “Why is that door so low?”