Chapter 4 - The Whispered Priority
I reached into the sweltering interior and touched his damp shoulder.
His skin felt dangerously hot to the touch.
His eyelids fluttered weakly, fighting against the heavy pull of heat stroke.
"Stay awake," I said urgently, my voice shaking. "You're going to be okay. I'm getting both of you out right now."
His cracked lips parted slightly.
No sound came out.
I leaned closer, sliding my arms under his shoulders to lift his weight.
"You're safe now, buddy. Just let me pull you out."
He didn't ask for water.
He didn't cry out in pain.
He didn't ask where his mother was.
His unfocused eyes shifted immediately away from my face, searching frantically for the purple blanket beside his hip.
I followed his gaze.
The newborn girl was breathing—shallow, thready, and barely visible beneath the knitted wool.
The red-haired boy moved his lips again, forcing a dry rasp past his throat.
I bent my head down until my ear was inches from his face.
The few words he whispered made my heart stop beating in my chest.
"Save... her... first..." he choked out.
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He didn't want me to lift him out. He was using his remaining strength to push my hands toward the infant.
"Save... my sister..."
