There was a sniper hidden in the trees.


    “Bet, look out!" Yvonne screamed, throwing herself at him and shielding him with her body.


    A gunshot shattered the silence of the forest, the sharp crack echoing through the trees and sending birds scattering in a panic.


    His position exposed, the sniper quickly fled.


    Bet held Yvonne tightly in his arms. His hand, cradling her shoulder, was slick with warm wetness.


    Yvonne had been shot in the left side of her chest. Blood poured from the wound, staining the front of her shirt crimson.


    The bullet''s entry point was dangerously close to her heart, and Bet didn''t know if it had been hit. He tore a strip from his shirt and wrapped it around the wound to stanch the bleeding, his hands trembling the entire time.


    "Could you... be a little gentler? It hurts like hell," Yvonne mumbled. Her features werepletely drained of color. This new body of hers was so fragile, making the pain feel exceptionally intense.


    Bet managed to slow the bleeding and then bent down, carefully lifting her onto his back. He started walking out of the forest, his steps heavy and uneven.


    By now, daylight had fully broken, and sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground.


    With Yvonne on his back, a trail of crimson drops marked their path.


    Bet always had an excellent sense of direction and wouldn''t get lost, even in a dense forest. But they were deep within it, and it would take at least an hour or two to get out.


    The path seemed to stretch on forever.


    Yvonney on Bet''s broad back. His body was warm, but she felt increasingly cold. The blood loss was causing her temperature to drop, and her consciousness began to fade.


    Bet had to keep talking to her, desperate to keep her from slipping away.


    "Bet, you''re so noisy," Yvonne would asionally murmur against his shoulder, her voice weak.


    “Does the wound still hurt?" Bet didn''t dare stop, continuing to talk to her.


    "It hurts," Yvonne''s voice grew fainter. "Bet, sing to me. Maybe it won''t hurt anymore."


    Bet yed the piano beautifully but rarely sang.


    Back when they were dating, Yvonne would


    Sometimes pester him to sing


    love songs to her but he would just


    blush and refuse.


    A grown man, so easily embarrassed. Though he never seemed shy in bed.


    But now, he seemed unusually


    willing, When she asked him to.


    bet


    he actually did, though his voice sin


    was


    rough and trembled slightly.


    Bet''s voice was terribly hoarse, the corners of his eyes bloodshot.


    Yvonne was quiet on his back, unnervingly still.


    "Don''t sleep. Please, don''t sleep,” he said, his voice rising in panic.


    He knew that if she lost consciousness, she might never wake up again.


    Yvonne seemed to be clinging to herst shred of awareness. "Ben..." she whispered, "but... I''m so... sleepy."


    After that, her mind went adrift.


    Just before she lost consciousness,


    she thought she heard a man''s low sob and a desperate whisper, "sit true that in any life, I can never protect you...?"


    Yvonne was truly delirious; she must be hallucinating.