What if she didn't survive? What if she had brought him here, and, with no one to watch for him, she left him to die gradually of hunger? Somehow she had to tell him there was blood in the icebox. It was too late. Another wave of fire beat at her, firing on her internally, scattering to every organ. She could only draw up her knees like a mortally injured animal and wait for it to die. She was dying and she knew that, as a woman of science, she knew the possibility of dying and it was inevitable.
Come to me, I will help you, I will ease the pain. You must come to me, woman. I can help lessen the pain. The words infiltrated her next instant of clarity. He sounded so delicate, so unlike the way he looked. She didn't care if she was going wild, if she was making his voice up; there was a gentle quality, like the touch of gentle, cool fingers on her body, to the voice in her mind.
