***WARNING: LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, BLOOD, AND DEATH***
The world around her felt unreal as Amara stared at Wallace's contorted face. Blood poured out of his chest wound with every rise and fall from his breath. She tried to break his hold to examine his wound, but he kept his arms locked.
"You sit tight, now. Yer thrashin' about hurts like hell," Wallace whispered through a gritted smile.
Tears started to fill her eyes, making it difficult to see the details of his face as he added; "Just hold tight until I say other, ye ken?"
Amara nodded silently before Wallace shifted her to one arm, abruptly turned, then swung his sword at Benzo. The way he had to grip Amara to do it was embarrassing, but it had worked. Benzo had backed off just enough for the other Highlanders to get between him, and Wallace's backside.
