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What happened?” she asked, dropping to the damp ground beside Win. “Has Merripen been burned?” “Yes, on his back.” Win ripped a makeshift bandage from the hem of her own gown. “Beatrix, would you take this, please, and soak it in water?” Without a word, Beatrix scampered to the trough at the handpump. Win stroked Merripen’s thick black hair as he rested his head on his forearms. His breath hissed unevenly through his teeth. “Does it hurt, or is it numb?” Amelia asked. “Hurts like the devil,” he choked out. “That’s a good sign. A burn is much more serious if it’s numb.” He turned his head to give her a speaking glance.
