The refuge they found wasn't much of one.

The bark was coarse and cracked under the smallest movement, rain slipping straight through the dying leaves overhead.

Vin slumped against the tree's trunk, vision dimming.

His head throbbed.

Warm beads of blood slid down his scalp.

His skin had paled, and his heartbeat barely moved his chest.

Lynn's emerald eyes fluttered open when she saw the state he was in.

She swallowed a lump of dread, then shakily whispered his name. "Gavin?"

Nothing.

She scooted closer and touched his cheek.

Despite the swamp's heat, his skin was freezing.

Her composure cracked, and her hands shifted from a gentle touch to frantic shaking.

"Gavin! Please, wake up!"

His limp hand slid off his knee.

They weren't friends. He'd been awful to her. But realizing she was becoming a helpless witness to death caused her eyes to swell.

She tore off his soaked hoodie, wrung it out, and tied the sleeves around his head to stop the bleeding. She didn't know how to treat venom or poison, but she did what she could.

Lynn stripped off her own jacket next, leaving only a thin tee.

She wrung it dry, slid beside him, and used it to cover their bodies like a lousy blanket.

She wrapped her arms around him last, sharing what little warmth she had.

Time crawled by painfully slow.

Every few minutes, Lynn wrung out the jacket.

Then she covered their bodies again, trying to stay as dry as possible.

The gray sky, sticky air, and melodyless pitter of rain hitting leaves were dreary.

Sleep, ever so compelling, courted the girl.

She did her best to stay awake, but her head eventually dropped—resting lightly against his shoulder.

Lynn joined him in a land beyond that terrible swamp.

Who knew what she dreamed of—perhaps it was a nightmare, or maybe nothing at all.

Nevertheless, it was a temporary armistice for her.

For a while, both teenagers drifted in fragile peace.

Vin wasn't sure he'd wake again.