Yully returned to the car. Jule was sweating and shaking. He was huddled forward and didn't look at her when she opened the car door. He stood, weaved on his feet, and started to fall. She caught him, and they careened into the side of the car before he caught his balance. Jule wrapped his arms around her. He smelled of sweat and blood. His body was burning up.
She maneuvered him into the house, almost dropping him in front of the fire.
"I don't know what to do," she said, kneeling beside him and starting to panic.
"You're gonna have to fix me," he said, as calm as she was not. "Start with gathering blankets, hot water, a first-aid kit, any sort of bandages they might have. And pliers."
"For what?"
"So you can pull the arrow out of my shoulder."
She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to tell him the sight and scent of blood was already making her want to vomit. She did as he said and ransacked the cabinets until she found a small first-aid kit. It didn't have the kind of bandages she suspected he'd need for his shoulder, so she turned several towels into thick bandages and added them to the pile.
"Any sort of antibiotic in there?" he asked through chattering teeth as she dumped the contents of her arms next to him.
"I think so," she said and held up a small syringe. She concentrated on it. When it didn't morph into something else, she knew it was what he wanted. "Yes, it is."
"Shoot me up."
"I have an issue with needles," she said. "They make me pass out."
"Stab me with it before you do."
Yully swallowed hard and steadied herself. She used scissors to cut off his shirt. Blood covered the tattoos of his chest, and she wiped as much of it away as she could. Jule's eyes were closed and his skin clammy. She finally gripped what was left of the arrow shaft with the pliers.
"This might hurt," she said.
She pulled. Nothing happened. Yully stood, tightened her grip, and yanked. Jule hissed through his teeth and more blood bubbled up, but the lodged arrow refused to move. Feeling stupid, she touched the arrow and turned it into a string that she pulled free. Blood gushed from the wound. Lightheaded, Yully sat heavily.
"Pressure dressing. Push hard, and shoot me up," he instructed, though his voice was ragged. "Then you get to sew me back together."