Theodore was still breathing.
Arthur kept checking. Every thirty seconds, hand pressed to Theodore's chest, feeling the rise and fall of it. Shallow. Too shallow. But there.
The forest around them was dark and quiet and Arthur's network was spread as wide as his blood could sustain it, feeding through every shadow the canopy allowed, feeling for movement. Vexis was worse. He hadn't stopped scanning while moving, his eyes cutting to every sound the forest made, every branch that shifted, every nothing that presented itself as something.
'Still clear,' Vexis said. Then ten seconds later. 'Still clear.'
Arthur looked at Theodore's side.
The blood had soaked through his coat and was moving slowly across the frozen ground beneath him. Too much of it. More than Arthur had a frame for. He'd seen injuries at the academy. Training wounds. Nothing like this.
"Master." Arthur's voice came out tired. Out of breath.
Roz was already looking at him.
