C10
“I’ll bring poultices. I brought you food.” She gestures further up the bank. “My bag. I brought you a shirt, too.”
“So that I can pretend to be a man? I don’t want your pity and worry.”
She sighs. “I only wanted to help you.”
“Now you care?” It’s not anger that makes me ask. It’s a place deep inside of me that hurts almost as much as the wound in my flesh. A part that still hopes
