They had no idea where the snow surge had carried them.
Rory opened her light-brain, but there was no signal. Not even an emergency call would go through.
She had rushed out in such a hurry that aside from her storage ring, she hadn't brought a hovercar or a spacecraft.
Getting Paros out of here… was impossible.
As she looked at him more closely, her heart sank again.
The part of his head buried beneath the snow was also injured—blood still seeping steadily.
If she didn't save him now, he really would die.
After a brief hesitation, Rory made her decision.
She reached into her storage space and took out a crimson fruit. Mixing a small amount of her own blood with the juice, she carefully fed it into Paros's mouth.
She gave only a little—just enough— ensuring the sweetness of the juice completely masked the taste of blood.
The effect was immediate. The bleeding stopped. His breathing steadied, gradually evening out.
At least… he wouldn't die now.
