“A dead Greek.” She waved us both closer. Tapped Larkin gently, just below the corner of his bulging eye. “Not straight in. Not stabbing. Lay the blade flat against the most swollen part, here.” She pointed with one ragged nail. “Away from the eye itself. Then push down a little so the knife tip is buried in the swell. And then slide it slowly until it pierces the skin. Just a bit.”

I peered at her. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

She shook her head. “I never kid when it comes to knives. Or eyes.”

I looked at Larkin. He nodded.

I looked at Captan. If dogs could shrug, I believe he would have.

I followed Larkin as he dragged Cate’s chair through the cabin door and out into the clearing. He sat in it and tipped his head back.

Captan came to sit next to him, leaning against his leg.

“And stand clear of where the blood will fly!” Cate yelled from inside the cabin.

I stood with the knife in my hand. “We don’t have to do this, you know. You can just wait for the swelling to go down.”

Larkin peered up at me. “Have you ever tried to follow a steep trail in poor light, half blind?”

I shook my head.

“I’d like to avoid a broken leg. So please, Ellie. Just cut me.”

I sighed once. Twice. Did what Cate had said to do. Laid the knife blade flat against his skin, the tip pointed away from his eye, pressed until the flesh rose up around it, and slid it slowly, the pressure building around it, building around it, until it suddenly broke the thin skin and popped the blister.

I had forgotten to stand clear of the spray.

Larkin himself got the worst of it.

He looked like someone had swung a bat at his face.

“Yuck,” I said, wiping his blood off my cheek. My jacket, still wet, was speckled with red that seeped out into little stars.

I helped Larkin to his feet and picked up the chair. We both followed Captan back into the cabin.

“Good sweet mother of souls,” Cate said when she saw us. She beckoned Larkin closer and reached up for his chin, turning his face so she could see his bad eye better. She nodded. “Now the potato.”

To me: “Fetch that, and a page from one of the books. Nothing important, though.”

She told Larkin to lie flat on the floor.

I flipped through the biggest book until I found a page about chilblains. Not much to do about them except wear gloves. I tore out the page.

“Now heap the potato over his eye and top it with that page, folded over in half.”

Which I did after wiping the blood from his face.

The grated potato was sloppy enough to soak the paper through. The edges of it stuck to his skin, holding it in place.

“Like this?” I said.