The night air was sharp, damp with the scent of crushed leaves and churned earth. The world was a blur of shadows and silence. Anastasia stirred, pain pulsing hot through her left arm.
She groaned, trying to sit up, but a sharp stab in her shoulder made her cry out. Her arm hung limply.
"Where are you hurt?" Ernest asked from a few feet away. He had done his best to shield her with his body as they fell down the slope.
His arms were bruised, and every joint in his body ached. There was blood everywhere, but what hurt him most was knowing she was injured. He would have preferred to bear double the pain if it meant sparing her any.
Anastasia, hearing his voice, remembered how he had shielded her during the fall. She wondered just how badly he was hurt.
