“You were never in danger, not really. I grabbed the rope even before the bush decided it was tired of holding you.”

He shook his head, snorting through his nose even as pain flared again. “Tell that to my shoulder,” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you have rocks hidden in your pockets? A suit of armor beneath that man’s shirt?”

“It’s not a man’s shirt. Or at least not anymore. I had it tailored for a perfect fit. Now get off me.”

“I’d rather rest a while if it’s all the same to you. My shoulder is badly—”

Before he could finish the thought, she extricated herself from beneath him, grabbed his injured arm at the wrist and elbow, and then shoved it back toward its socket.

“Godsdammit!” he roared, clutching his shoulder, which was throbbing like it had been crushed with a hammer.

“I’ll take that as a thank you. You’re welcome. Now I’d best be off. We’ve burned enough daylight mucking around as it is.”

She started to go while he stared at her in disbelief. “Mucking around? I saved your bloody life.”

“And I saved yours, which made us square. Then I fixed your shoulder, so even if you never learned to count past one, you’ll know you’re in my debt.”

“In your debt?”

“Gods, you catch on quick! Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today, so I won’t hold you to it. Consider it a gift between strangers.” She stopped suddenly to sniff the air. “Have you been drinking?”

“Heavily,” he said. “Explains why I was foolish enough to come to your aid. I should’ve let you take a nice, long swim.”

“What are you doing in these woods?”

“That’s my business, but I’ll tell you anyway. Hunting. Which tends to make me rather thirsty. And I could ask you the same thing.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the corners. Ludo sensed an unspoken intelligence behind them that reminded him of predators. It also reminded him of himself. “Hunting,” she parroted.

“Where’s your bow?”

“It’s not that kind of hunting. And I don’t see a bow on you either.”

“I left it back at my camp. Not that I need it, I’m pretty good with my dagger in a pinch.” He reached with his uninjured arm to tap the weapon sheathed at his right hip only to find the sheath empty of anything steel. Blood from the damage caused by the thorns smeared on the leather.

He froze as his own dagger was pressed to his throat. Impressive, he thought. When did she even have time to relieve him of the weapon? When he’d slumped back onto her lap? Probably. At the time he’d been a bit too distracted by the pain shooting from his shoulder into the rest of his body. He cursed his mistake, which he knew he’d made because she was a woman, and a one-legged one at that. He’d underestimated her.

“Who are you?” she said, voice calm but commanding. “And why do you look so familiar to me?”