"Let me help you, Rafe," I plead as he limps over to the horses, but he ignores me, grabbing one rein with his unbroken arm and hefts himself atop the saddle.
He pulls, the horse neighing as it sets into a steady gallop ahead. I run to my mount and follow closely, the tears burning in my eyes making it near difficult to feel the cold anymore. "Rafe, please. Say something."
He doesn't, his back stiff as a board as he acts like I don't exist.
For another hour, I watch him make slump in his horse, and struggle with the markers all by himself with his still healing arm. Then he kicks his horse into a full gallop, leading us back to the encampment.
The reins are clenched tight in my bloody hands, my throat raw with a sob I've been holding back. "Rafe."
Nothing. Not even a flinch.
