O’jek immediately picks me up and carries me into the water. From there, he gently washes my face and the wound on my head, peering at my eyes. “This is a deep cut and still bleeds,” he tells me. “You must have hit rock on the way down. I will need to sew it.” Stupidly, I think of my appearance. I touch the cut—just at my hairline—and try not to cry. “Is it going to be ugly?” “Never.” O’jek scowls as if the thought offends him. “I’m just…I’m already…” I gesture weakly at my burned cheek and hands. “You are perfect,” he tells me, tipping my chin with a finger so I look at him. “Just looking at
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