His heart slammed painfully against his ribs as he shifted his grip, fingers brushing her wrist, her neck—anywhere he could feel for a heartbeat, even one.
Then—
A weak cough.
Ryn sucked in a sharp breath, almost choking on it as he hauled her higher against his chest.
"Amelia," he said, voice breaking despite himself. "Hey, stay with me."
Her eyelids fluttered.
"…Ryn…?" she murmured.
"I'm here," he said immediately. "I've got you."
Only then did he look down.
Blood trailed into the water in thin, drifting lines. He followed them to her legs—and felt his stomach drop.
Splintered wood jutted from the sides of her thigh, several pieces were ingrained, some shallow while others deep enough to almost completely disappear within.
Ryn's grip tightened instinctively, panic clawing up his throat.
A part of him felt relieved, that she hadn't taken any critical damage, while the other half wasn't.
Blood in open water was never just blood.
