“Don’t move,” I tell him. “I’m getting you out of here. It’s going to be fine.” “Leave…me…” he pants. “I am too wounded.” “Bullshit,” I tell him, though he’s voicing my worst fears. “You’re fine! You just need to rest and recover for a few days. Let the cootie do its work!” “You’re….not….safe.” His eyes slide closed again. “I’m fine,” I bellow a little louder than I need to. I lean forward and grab Raahosh by the collar. “Are you listening to me? I’m fine, and you’re going to be fine. Don’t you die on me!” He doesn’t answer, and I panic a little. I shake him, eliciting another wounded groan
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