Having a specific task helps, even if watching the blood pouring out of a person I care so much about makes me feel sick. I wrap my slip around his shoulder, under his arm, and tie it tight to hold the shirt in place. I remember learning about bandages. I can do this much, at least.

Once it's done, I allow myself a look at John's face. He's so pale that it scares me, but I don't say so. I just hold his hand and manage a trembling ghost of a smile. "See? We're all going to be just fine."

That there is blood dripping down my own arm, from where the arrow got me on its way to John, I hardly notice and that we're all at least a little bit burned by contact with the vines I ignore.

I have to ignore everything about the bloody vines, because I can still hear them laughing and it makes me feel like I might just start screaming and not be able to stop.