he tried to stand.
“Don’t move!” Zoe said sharply. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.” Cole’s voice was no higher than a rasp. “I’m not cold.”
Of course he wasn’t, and he should be more grateful for it. “Nothing, my foot,” Zoe snapped. “This is not the time to be arguing with me, so stop being so pigheaded and do what I tell you without fighting me, for once.”
For a moment she felt guilty for sounding so harsh, but it worked. A very faint grin appeared on Cole’s grimy face, and his body relaxed. Nottingham, Zoe thought, was probably the only person who could overcome being near-dead just so he could laugh at her.
With some difficulty, she tore parts of his shirt open so she could get at the wounds on his side. “Water,” she muttered, scooping handfuls of snow and packing it against the injury. “Does this hurt?”
“I can’t feel the ice. Should I be worried?”
“No. That’s actually my doing.” Something in her bag clinked as she moved, and she remembered the assortment of bottles inside. She fished out several of the vials.
In hindsight, it might have been more logical to have asked the priestess what most did before accepting them as gifts, or perhaps quizzed Nya in greater detail after they’d left. Some of the labels on the bottle, which should have enlightened her to as what they contained, only resulted in more questions.
There were bottles marked with things Zoe was familiar with, like Antitoxin and Tea and Vaccine (though a vaccination from what, Zoe had no idea) and even one that said Cough Medicine. Not all the bottles contained magical potions either; a few were herbs, marked Wonderland Pepper or Thyme or Rosemary. Other labels were just ridiculous.
“Cake?” she muttered disbelievingly, as she examined a small flask, then at another. “Gift?” Still another spelled out Snake, and Zoe hastily shoved that back into the pouch.
One of the smaller bottles showed promise, with Clean printed across its surface. Carefully, she unstopped the flask and tilted a few hesitant drops onto the very dirty sleeve of her blouse.
The drops hit the cloth, rippled out. The mud followed suit, clumps falling away. An area of pristine blue appeared where the drops had fallen and, a couple of minutes later, Zoe was holding a dry, fresh-smelling shirt. Good. This was good.
She ripped out several strips of cloth from Cole’s shirt, added a small drop to the former, and then several more to the latter. As she watched, mud and water separated, dripping out until the last of the dirt slid off both the makeshift bandage and the cloth it came from.
She cleaned the other strips, then used one to remove the rest of the mud from Cole’s wounds. Zoe wasn’t sure if the potion could be used directly on injuries and decided to err on the safe side, concerned it might hinder more than heal. Cole hissed quietly a few times when she moved over places where the lacerations were at their deepest, and she tried to keep her touch light.
Once she was satisfied she’d gotten out all she could, Zoe wrapped more makeshift bandages over the injury. She did the same to his shoulder, noting that the bleeding there had stopped.
“It’s the best I can do for now.” She looked back, was startled to see him studying her intently, without his usual rudeness. His good hand reached out to close over hers briefly.
“Thank you.”
Zoe found herself reddening. A polite Nottingham somehow felt more intimidating than a rude one. “Just returning the favor,” she said, trying to make her voice sound light. “You saved my life first, remember?” There was no sign of the others anywhere. “Where are Ken and Tala and…?” Dread gripped her insides. “They weren’t…are they…?”
“They’re safe.”
She didn’t believe him. Zoe took a step back into the direction of the marshes.
“They’re safe.”
“We have to go back and find them.”
“Carlisle…”
“How would you even know they made it out of the swamps? You couldn’t,” she answered her own question bitterly. She felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. “You were too busy rescuing me, because I am apparently neither smart nor skilled enough to take care of myself, much less protect anyone else! This is all my fault. I need to make sure they’re—”
Cole moved quicker than his injuries should have allowed for, and his large hands found her shoulders, a faint, barely visible wince crossing his face at the pain the movement caused. “It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is! Even you said