Dain shook me, and faintly I could hear his voice calling my name, with raw panic in it, like a fly bouncing against a window. That wasn't good. I didn't want him to panic.

I dragged myself back together, fitting myself together as if I was the broken window, and Dain's face resolved in front of me, blood across most of his skin. He looked like a crime scene.

Very carefully, as if they were sacred relics that might fall apart if I moved them too fast, I lifted my hands and put them on either side of his face. He stopped talking as I reeled myself together, looking into his frightened eyes. "Good job, Dain," I said, in all seriousness, not knowing what else to say. The arrows in his chest kept moving as he breathed, and my eyes drifted down to them. "How are you alive?"

"I'm hard to kill," he said, then turned and coughed, spitting out blood. "I still have a working lung," he added, his voice hoarse. "Though that's not going to last long with iron broadheads in me." Dain closed his eyes with a shudder. "I need to rip them out, and it's going to hurt very badly. Is it alright if I scream?"

"Isn't that bad for you? The ripping?" I asked hesitantly.

"Not as bad as iron," Dain replied, his voice grim.

"Then yes," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "You should scream." I let go of his face as he nodded, and leaned back against the stone wall.

With a shuddering breath, Dain grabbed one of the arrows, closed his eyes, and wrenched it out with one fluid motion. He tore out a scream from his chest with it, an agonized yell that approached a roar. Blood surged out of his chest, a brief flood, the red of his flesh showing through the torn clothing. He grabbed the second with a shaking hand and did the same, collapsing onto all fours as he panted, blood dripping from his chest. With one wing-arm, he started feeling for the ones in his back, struggling to get a good angle. Dain tried to rip one out and failed, letting out a sobbing sound.

"Lie down," I told him, harsh necessity settling into me with cold force.

He looked up at me, panting.

"Lie down on your side," I said. "Back to me. I'll do it."

"You don't need this—" he started, his voice shaking.

"Shut up and do as I say," I snapped at him, adrenaline making me tremble. The arrow in my leg hurt like a bitch, everything throbbing and hot, but whatever iron was doing to Dain had to be way worse for him to rip it out like that, and I wasn't going to fucking watch him fumble at getting the arrows out.