"Right. I'll just pull an arrow out of you. Jesus," I mutter. I do try, but I can't. I don't know if my hands are too small and too slick with blood already or if I'm just not strong enough, but when I pull on the arrow it scarcely budges. That I know I'm hurting him even more doesn't help.

I grab Mathias' hand when I take his shirt from him. "Please. I can't." Help him the vines say in my voice, and I let out a babyish sob of frustration and fear.

All I can think about is the air raid the day Maddie and I became friends, and that gunner who bled to death right under my hands.

"They're saying he's dead," I say, and I'm getting angry again. I suppose it's better than abject terror, but neither is really very helpful when you get right down to it. "They need to shut up before somebody comes up here with a lawn mower. Because he isn't, and he's not going to be. Not today."

I swear the vines are laughing at me.