in which we have a snippet:
Fig’s foot is wet with blood. I pull his sock off, and grab at the hem of Yegor’s dress, I tug and tug until the fabric gives and then I’ve got a bandage. “Pressure will help but if you got broke bones then -“
He covers his mouth with his hand, wincing as I tug on the fabric, make a knot, tucking the ends under so it won’t come loose. “I’ll just slow you down.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay, Fig.” But it’s not and he knows it.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you kill me if you want.”
His hair’s a tangle and there’s still water in the corners of his eyes. I don’t apologize for falling asleep. For saying one thing, then doing the other. “Not a thing I’m doing. Witch’ll help.” I’d seen Yegor heal up worse.
“Ain’t a worse thing than witch,” Fig says in a sigh and I almost backhand him for being stupider than I thought possible.
“Witch might mean I don’t need to change your name to Lefty McHobbleston.”
I throw up my hands. “You scare me half to death again and I will leave you strung upside down in a tree with a note on your chest that’s all recommendations about what you’re good for. Understood?”
Fig nods. “Help me up?”
It’s still dark, maybe there’s enough heat the in the fire to start it up again.
I guess when I promised him I wouldn’t kill him, I should have clarified on purpose.