*Chet*

Mrs. Mackenzie looks like she’s about to blow my head off with the shotgun she grasps in her trembling hands as I kneel next to Unega. With no pressure on her wound, the fabric I was pressing against the gash turns a brighter shade of red by the moment.

“Get back.” She swings the muzzle of the rifle toward the water.

“We mean you and your daughter no harm,” I assure her, my voice calm, and hopefully, reassuring. “She hit her head on a rock. It needs–”

“I’m a nurse, I know what it needs!” she shouts. “Get away from her.” She looks toward the river. “Where’s Mac?”

“He’s...