Tension crackles in the air between the three of us. I move toward Thorne with predatory intent, knife raised and death in my eyes.
"We kill him," I say to Riven. My voice comes out cold and flat. "It's the only way to be sure he's not leading us into a trap."
Riven pushes off from the tree, his injured shoulder protesting the movement. "Arida, stop and think for a moment."
I don't stop, circling to get a clear line to Thorne. "He could be lying. Everything he said could be a lie. Hardik might be dead. This might be exactly what Varek wants—for us to follow some stranger into an ambush."
Riven steps between us despite the obvious pain it causes him. "And he might be telling the truth. We don't know without proof."
I whirl on him, anger and fear mixing into something volatile. "So we just trust him? Trust some stranger from another pack who conveniently knows about a carved wolf figurine? That information could have been tortured out of someone!"
"Could have been," Riven agrees, his voice strained. "But you don't know that. You're letting fear make your decisions."
"I'm letting survival make my decisions," I snap. "The same survival instinct that's kept us alive this long. Dead men tell no tales, and dead men don't lead enemies to us."
"Dead men also don't lead you to healers," Riven shoots back. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm dying."
"Don't say that."
"Why not? It's true." He wipes sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand.
"We can handle this ourselves," I bare my teeth. "We don't need him."
"With what?" Riven's voice hardens. "What supplies do we have? What medicine? What plan beyond running until I collapse?"
"We'll figure it out."
"When? After I'm dead?"
The words hit like a slap. I take a step back.
Thorne watches this exchange with a growing alarm but doesn't run. He stands his ground. "I understand your caution. I'd be suspicious too. But killing me doesn't solve your problems."
"It solves the problem of you," I retort, not taking my eyes off Riven.
"Does it?" Thorne's voice stays measured. "Your mate is still infected. You're still hunted. And you're still alone with no resources."
"We've managed so far."
"Have you?" Thorne's gaze flicks to Riven. "Because from where I'm standing, you're losing him."
I bare my teeth. "Shut your mouth."
"Make me." He doesn't flinch. "Or better yet, use that energy to save him instead of threatening me."
Riven's face has gone even paler. He sways. Catches himself on the tree trunk. His knuckles turn white from the grip. "Arida, listen to yourself. This isn't you. You're a hunter, not an executioner."
"I'm whatever I need to be to keep you alive."
"Then keep me alive by getting me help!" Riven's voice rises, then breaks into a cough.
My expression shifts instantly from anger to fear. "Riven—"
"The infection is spreading," Thorne interrupts quickly, seeing his opening. "It's in his bloodstream now. If we don't treat it soon, he'll die. I don't care if you trust me or not—that's a medical fact."
I look between Riven and Thorne, my mind racing. "You're a healer?"
"No. But I know field medicine. I know what wounds look like when they're about to kill someone." Thorne's voice is urgent now. "There's a stream half a mile north with willow bark growing nearby. It won't cure him, but it'll slow the infection long enough to get him to Hardik's camp where there are real healers."
"How convenient," I say bitterly. "You just happen to know where medicine grows."
"I've been traveling these forests for two days looking for you. I learned the terrain." Thorne meets my eyes. "You want insurance? Bind my hands. Put a knife to my throat. I'll show you the willow bark, and then you can decide whether to kill me or trust me. But decide fast, because your mate doesn't have much time."
"And if the willow bark doesn't work?"
"Then you're in the same position you're in now. Except you tried something instead of standing here debating."
"Don't lecture me about trying." My grip tightens on the knife. "I've kept us alive this far."
"Barely." Thorne's voice drops. "And for how much longer? Another day? Two? What happens when he can't walk anymore? When the fever takes him? You going to carry him through three territories?"
"If I have to."
"You can't. You know you can't." He takes a careful step forward. "Let me help. That's all I'm asking."
"You're asking me to trust you."
"I'm asking you to trust that I have no reason to hurt you."
Riven coughs again, harder this time. He slides down the tree trunk to sit on the ground, his breathing shallow and rapid. "Arida," he says quietly. "I need help. Please."
The word breaks something in me. Riven doesn't beg. Doesn't ask. Doesn't plead.
But he's pleading now.
"How do I know you won't run the moment I untie you?" I ask Thorne.
"You don't. But you're a tracker. How far would I get?"
"Not far."
"Then we understand each other."
I pull cord from my pack. Move toward Thorne. The knife stays between us. "Hands out. Together."
He complies. No resistance. No tricks.
I wrap the cord around his wrists. Three loops. Tight enough to bite. Knot it twice.
"Move and you die," I say.
"Understood."
"Fine then," I say through gritted teeth. "Show me the willow bark. But if you try anything, anything at all, I'll gut you before you take three steps."
"Understood."
"And your hands stay bound until I see proof this isn't a trap."
Thorne nods. "Fair enough."
I turn to Riven. He's still on the ground. Eyes closed. Chest rising and falling too fast.
"Can you walk?"
"If you help me."
I crouch beside him. Pull his arm over my shoulders. Haul him to his feet. He staggers against me. His weight has doubled since this morning. Or maybe I'm just getting weaker.
"Stay with me," I say.
"Trying." His voice is barely a whisper.
Thorne starts walking north. I follow. Riven's weight grows heavier with each step. His breathing worsens. Each exhale sounds like tearing fabric.
And I pray to gods I don't believe in that I'm not leading us both to slaughter.