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One of his hands breaks free ofhis hand inhis arm

“I’roaned

“Don’t be sorry” I s as his entire body begins quaking “Don’t be frightened I’m here with you” I feel chill-bumps on his skin, and I rack my brain for what could be the matter “Have you ever had a seizure?”

I’ up and crawling away And then he’s retching He’s et off the blankets He’s there on the cold floor on his hands and knees I co so forcefully, I’o

I stick by hi to help brace his chill-swept torso When at last he finishes, he grips my shoulder “Fuck”

He crawls back to the blanket, curling on his side I touch his shoulder “Let’s take off your shirt…”

My fingers brush his burning skin as I help hiet out of it After that, he si, and my heart bleeds for him I stroke his hair back, then lie on my side so that I’m level with him

“If I can ease you—anything at all…”

His eyes open, reaching toward“Thanks”

I settle onmy body toward his even as he seems to fall into a solid sleep He moves so little in the next few hours, I’m reminded of a hospice patient

I repeatedly check his pulse, tuckaround him When he twitches or shifts fitfully, I smooth my palm over his damp forehead I’m so puzzled, so horrified and fearful for him, that I want to weep—but I know I don’t have that luxury I take my fear and frustration out on the cave’s wall

Perhaps it’s the noise, but soon he’s talking in his sleep He jolts up, panting, looking terror-stricken I rush over When he doesn’t look at me, I stroke his warm, hard-muscled arm and feel the chills that sweep his skin

“There now Let’s lie down”

We lie together, and I wrap an are hih that I can feel their warmth on my chest

I stroke his hair until he’s quiet, and that’s all I hear of hi and attempt to wake him for some water, he shakes his head Hours slip by as I lie with hi up when h ain?