Dahlia
"Almost there." I said for what felt like the tenth time. "We've got this."
Hunter gave a response that was hardly audible. But he was still responding, barely. I knew he was in pain, though he tried to hide it. His shoulder, he claimed, was the worst of it. He said he would start feeling better as soon as it was set. I hoped so. I wasn't fully convinced he was okay. He downplayed it all, but I firmly believed he had a concussion. There was no way he couldn't have one from that kind of fall. Thankfully, the bleeding from his head had stopped, or perhaps froze, half an hour into our journey; a small mercy.
I was supporting the brunt of his weight as we approached the Tavern. It was a sizable two-story log cabin. Most of the windows were illuminated with a warm glow. Smoke billowe
