The Ouroboros Cycle, Book One. G.D. Falksen

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СКАЧАТЬ sight of the wounds left by the beast’s claws. Korbinian’s pale skin was awash with blood, the old mass drying and dark amid the flowing crimson.

      “Liebchen…” Korbinian said, reaching out for her.

      Babette pushed his hand away impatiently.

      “Be still, my love!” she said. “For God’s sake, be still.”

      What could she do? The claws had not cut deep—Korbinian’s ribs were still intact—but the blood was endless. She would have to staunch the flow of it. Only then could she even begin to think about moving him. That would be a dreadful risk, but she could not leave him there, not in his state.

      But what to use for bandages? All their clothes were covered in dirt, and dirt seemed the last thing that should be going inside one’s body.

      But of course, she realized, not all of their clothing had been soiled during the fight.

      Babette grabbed Korbinian’s knife from where it had fallen and wiped it off on the cleanest part of her sleeve. She hiked up her skirt and began cutting her petticoats into pieces as quickly as she could manage. For the first time in her life, she had found a practical use for the damnable things.

      She packed a bunch of fabric pieces together into a mass and placed it against Korbinian’s chest. She pushed on it as hard as she could, just as it had been described to her during their many lessons on medicine. To think that now she the student had to perform on her teacher.

      Or that his life depended on how well she had learned.

      Babette bit her lip, but the grim realization only hardened her resolve. Korbinian would not die because of her.

      The sound of dogs was louder now. Babette turned toward it and saw a pair of hounds, straining at their leashes, leading a figure in rough clothing through the trees.

      “Gustave!” Babette shouted, recognizing the figure as her grandfather’s game warden.

      “Mademoiselle?” Gustave said. He hurried to her and knelt, looking at Korbinian in shock. “What has happened? I heard a shot and thought it was poachers.”

      “There is no time!” Babette said. “Lift his chest for me.”

      Gustave set his shotgun down and looped the dogs’ leads around a branch. The animals were incensed, and they snarled and barked in the direction that the beast had fled.

      Without a word, Gustave took Korbinian by the shoulders and raised his upper body. Babette cut longer strips of cloth from what remained of her petticoats and wrapped them around Korbinian’s chest, binding the wound tightly. They would not be good for long, but at least the makeshift bandages would last until he could be returned to the house.

      “Gustave,” Babette said, “you must return to the house. Tell them that there has been an animal attack. Fetch men, fetch a cart, and have them send for a doctor at once!”

      “But Mademoiselle, I cannot leave you—” Gustave began.

      “And I cannot leave him!” Babette snapped. “The dogs will protect me. Give me your shotgun if you think they are not enough.”

      Gustave picked up the shotgun and hesitated. Babette snatched it from him and set it on her lap.

      “Now go!” she shouted.

      Gustave bowed his head, stood, and raced off in the direction of the house.

      Babette’s head swam from the excitement. In the sudden calm, she felt herself falling into a swoon, and she knelt with her head down for a moment to steady herself.

      “Babette, my love?” she heard Korbinian ask weakly.

      She turned to him and looked into his eyes, smiling bravely. She could not lose him. It would be the death of her, she knew that now.

      Touching his cheek, she said, “Be strong, my dearest. You must be strong. Help is coming. But you must keep your eyes open.”

      Korbinian took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

      “I could never look away from you, liebchen,” he said softly. “So long as you are here, I will never close my eyes.”

      There was such pain and such determination in his voice that Babette felt tears wet her eyes.

      “Liebchen,” Korbinian said, gasping for breath, “my love for you is such that I cannot describe it. I could die now content in knowing that you are safe.”

      “You will not die!” Babette cried. “I forbid it!”

      Korbinian smiled at her and took her hand. He kissed it gently and said, “Mademoiselle Babette Varanus, I have but one thing to ask of you.”

      “What?” Babette asked.

      Why had Korbinian suddenly used her proper name for the first time in months?

      “If I live,” Korbinian said, struggling with his words, “I wish that you would give to me the greatest happiness that a man can ever know.”

      He looked into her eyes and clutched her hand tightly.

      “Babette, my darling, will you consent to be my wife?”

      Babette’s breath caught in her throat. Such a thing had always been understood between them, but it was an unspoken understanding. Now, to hear the question asked in full.…

      She wept freely with joy and kissed him. She could hardly speak, but there was only one word she needed to say—indeed, only one word she could say.

      “Yes!”

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