Page 28 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
While I’m good with knives, I’m better with a crossbow. The pack never gave me food rations, so I had to hunt my own meat. In my current state, though, I doubt I could catch an injured deer. Luna tilts her head, studying me with those knowing eyes.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t exactly carry it when we were escaping,” I tell her, my voice slightly hoarse.
I start walking again, each step sending fire through my leg. “But you’re good at catching mice, right? Maybe you could catch something bigger?”
She gives me an annoyed look, and I smile weakly. “Right. Stupid idea.” I wipe more sweat from my forehead, my skin feeling clammy. It’s comforting to be able to talk to Luna, even if she can’t reply.
“I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can make some snares, catch a rabbit or something.”
Even as I say it, however, I know I don’t have the energy or mobility to set proper traps. My leg is getting worse by the hour, and the fever is making it hard to think clearly.
By midday, I’m struggling to stay upright. Every step feels like someone is driving hot spikes through my leg, and my vision keeps swimming in and out of focus.
“Need to rest,” I gasp, leaning against a boulder. “Just for a few minutes.”
But those few minutes turn into an hour, and when I try to stand again, my leg nearly gives out completely.
“Come on, Astra,” I growl at myself. “Get it together. Freedom is waiting. You have to keep moving.”
Luna jumps down from my shoulder and starts walking ahead, glancing back at me expectantly.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re not the one with these infected claw marks.”
The afternoon passes in a haze of pain and determination. I lose track of how many times I have to stop to rest, how many times I consider just lying down and giving up. But every time I think about quitting, I picture Alpha Gareth’s satisfied smirk and Harper’s tears of relief, and I force myself to take another step.
As evening approaches, I realize I need to find a tree to sleep in. The thought of climbing fifteen feet with my injured leg makes me want to cry, but I don’t have a choice. The ground isn’t safe at night.
I find a suitable oak with low-hanging branches and stare up at it like it’s Mount Everest.
“Okay, Luna. Time for the fun part.”
She leaps gracefully from branch to branch while I struggle with the first handholds. My left leg screams in protest as I haul myself up, and by the time I reach a suitable sleeping spot, I’m dizzy with pain and exhaustion.
“Made it,” I pant, settling against the trunk with Luna curled in my lap. “See? Everything’s fine. Just need to sleep off this fever, and we’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
But as the night deepens, the fever gets worse. My whole body alternates between burning hot and ice cold, and I can’t stop shivering despite being wrapped in my cloak. The wound is infected worse than I thought, and without proper healing magic or the right herbs, it’s spreading through my system.
“Stay awake,” I mumble to myself. “Can’t fall asleep. Might fall out of the tree again.”
But my eyelids feel like they’re made of lead, and eventually, I can’t fight it anymore.
Tears of pain slip down my cheeks, loneliness and fear gripping me. There’s no one who will care if I die. No one aside from Andrew and my two friends. And even they will soon forget about me. No one will look for me or worry about me.
For the first time in a long while, I miss my mother. Or maybe I miss the maternal affection that a mother can give, that unconditional love.
I’m not going to make it, I realize dimly. The fever isn’t going to break. I don’t have the right tools for it. A quiet sigh of despair leaves my lips as I accept my fate.
In my fever-induced haze, I’m vaguely aware of strong arms lifting me, cradling me against a warm chest. The touch is gentle, careful not to jar my injured leg, and for a moment, I feel completely safe.
“Mom?” I whisper weakly, delirious, but there’s no answer.
The arms carry me somewhere softer, somewhere that doesn’t involve clinging to a tree branch, and I sink into blessed unconsciousness.
When I finally wake up, the sun is high overhead, but my vision is still blurry, my skin burning hot. Luna is making contented eating noises beside me, though the sound seems to echo strangely in my ears.
“Luna?” I croak, my throat raw and dry. “What’re you—”
I try to focus, blinking against the bright sunlight. I’m on the ground at the base of the tree, not up in the branches where I remember falling asleep. How did I get down here? Did I fall again? But there’s no new pain, no fresh bruises from another tumble.
