I wrapped my good hand with a piece of denim I had torn away from Mason’s jeans and began to break away the branches the surrounded his head. The rain made my work twice as hard since the branches were slippery, but at least the denim protected my hand from any rough edges. I worked diligently until I had cleared a sufficient path out of the bush.

"What are you doing, beach bunny?" Mason asked in a strained voice, startling me.

I turned to see him curiously studying me.

"Getting you to that dry bed you asked for," I joked. “You scared the crap out of me.”

"Sorry. That's sweet of you, but I don't see you being able to move me," he said seriously.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think I could do your leg and I did that," I said, sarcastically.

He let out a small laugh. "I'm not questioning your drive, but I'm no lightweight. How do you plan on moving all one hundred eighty pounds of me?" he asked.

"Well, if you must know, I'm dragging your ass."

He raised his eyebrows at me doubtfully, but didn't argue further.

"You ready?" I asked, standing up by his head. "Or do you plan on waiting for the bus."

"I'm all yours, beach bunny."

I reached down and grasped the hood of the raincoat that he was on, being careful to keep my injured finger out of the way. My grip was awkward, but still allowed me to get a good hold of the material with my hand.

"Ready?" I asked, looking down at him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, bracing his good foot against the ground so he could help.

Pulling with all the strength I had, I managed to move him several inches before I had to take a break. He watched me with concern as I tried to regain my air supply. The thin mountain air definitely wasn’t helping. Once I had regained my breathing to a more manageable level, I began tugging the material again, using all of my weight to propel him up out of the bush. The momentum threw me off and I stumbled to the ground. I braced my fall with my left hand without thinking and cursed as excruciating pain rocketed throughout my arm.

"Kimberly?" Mason called from behind me.

"I'm fine," I gasped, waiting for the pain to subside as I kneeled on the ground.

"Let me see it," he pleaded.

Turning around, I held my finger out so he could inspect it. I had ignored it the majority of the day, treating it as more of a pain in the ass than anything else, but as he studied it, I took in the dark shade of black and blue that now made up the color on my middle digit.

"We need to brace this," he said softly, holding my injured hand tenderly in his.

"It'll be fine. I want to get you into the shelter first and then we can worry about my dumb finger," I mumbled, embarrassed over the big deal he was making over my small break in light of his massive injury.

"You're not moving me until we brace it," he said stubbornly, leaving no room for argument.

"Fine, but you're the one who's getting soaking wet," I quipped, snapping a branch into two pieces for him.

"I need the gauze too, Einstein," he teased, looking tickled about my grumpiness.

"No shit, Sherlock," I shot back, already digging out the first aid box for the small roll of gauze tape I had seen.

He smirked at my snippy comeback. "Help me sit up," he said.

"Yes, your highness. Do you want me to fetch you some wine and cheese while I'm at it?"

He laughed outright. "You sure are sassy, beach bunny," he said, looking better than he had since I had found him.

I felt oddly lighthearted as he gently braced my finger. I had always been one to shy away from conflict, but sharing barbs with him had become almost comforting. Of course, the fact that our banter was more teasing now than outright hate, helped too.

"This is going to hurt," he said, looking at me.

"I know."

"No, I mean, it's really going to hurt. I'm going to set the bone."

"What?" I screeched, ripping my hand from his grasp.

"I'm going to set it," he answered calmly, but seriously.

"But how? You're not a doctor last time I checked," I stuttered out.

"Kimberly, I've taken multiple first aid classes and I've had to do this once or twice over the years."

"Really?" I doubted.

"Yeah, really, little Miss Doubtful. The nearest hospital is an hour and forty-five minutes away, in the foothills, so we’ve all had to learn more medical training than usual. Now give me your hand," he coaxed.

I reluctantly handed my hand over.

"Do you live near the ocean?" he asked out of the blue.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Just trying to take your mind off this," he said, indicating my hand. "Think you could work with me?"

"Oh," I said, feeling like a dope. "Um, yeah, we live about as close to the beach as you can get. My mom inherited her grandmother’s house when I was a baby. It's old, but I love it," I said, feeling a wave of homesickness as I thought of the seaworn house I had spent almost every night of my life at.

"That must be cool," Mason said.

"It's definitely got its perks. It was hard when I first got here to camp to fall asleep at night, since I'm used to the crashing waves putting me to sleep…" My words trailed off as he pulled my finger and pushed the bone into place. Waves of pain rolled through me as I gasped for breath.

“Holy frick all,” I complained.

"Is it cold living on the water during the winter?" he asked, wrapping my finger deftly.

It took several minutes for his words to register and for his face to come back into focus. By the time I could think about answering his question, he was done with my finger. He studied me with sadness and gently kissed the bandaged digit.

"It's all good," I said, copying his words from earlier.

"Kimberly, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you're hurt, and I'm even more sorry I got us into this mess."

"You didn't do this," I said, confused.

"I told Rick I’d protect you and I failed—him and you."

"Oh, yeah, because you caused the rain? And oh wait, you caused the trail to erode out from underneath us, that’s right. Don't be a martyr, buddy, it doesn’t become you. Besides, if we're handing out blame, I'm the first that should step forward. If I would have checked on Alyssa, maybe I could have headed her off before she decided to run off."

He laughed. "Talk about martyrs. None of us could have foreseen that."

"Yeah, well, did you foresee the mountain collapsing out from under us, Mr. Know-It-All," I pecked back.

He smiled at me and I saw through his ploy.

"Thank you," I said, holding up my throbbing finger.

"The least I can do," he said, indicating his own injury.

"Well, let’s get this show on the road. I'm sick of this never-ending rain," I said, grasping his jacket in my hand to start dragging him along again. He helped out as best as he could, propelling himself forward by kicking off against the ground with his good foot every time I tugged. It took more than a half an hour to drag him the two hundred yards since I was forced to take several breaks.

"You couldn't have found a closer tree for us to hunker down under," Mason teased after my fourth break. I could tell he was concerned about me, but more importantly, I could tell he was in a lot of pain.

"Oh, you'll be thanking me soon enough," I huffed as I started the slow climb up to the shelter I had picked. My forward motion up the incline was painstakingly slow and my arms screamed at me from exertion. Finally, I stopped just short of our destination and Mason was able to crane his neck around so he could see our temporary shelter.