“Take her arms, Julian,” Elena instructed, locking the wheels of the transport chair beside the cot. “Support her head. I have her hips.”
Julian slid his forearms under Clara’s shoulders.
Together, Elena and Corvo lifted Clara cleanly off the cot into the transport chair.
Clara let out a soft breath as her weight settled into the canvas sling seat, her weak leg muscles trembling against the chrome footrests.
“I’ve got you, Clara,” Julian said, his hands steady on her shoulders. “You’re safe.”
“My legs feel like lead weights,” Clara whispered, gripping the rubber armrests with pale fingers. “They feel like someone poured wet sand inside my knees.”
“That’s completely normal after six months in bed, sweetie,” Elena assured her, adjusting the leg rests. “Your circulation needs time to wake up.”
Elena pulled a heavy grey wool blanket from her canvas bag. She shook it out and draped it snugly over Clara’s shoulders, tucking the edges beneath her thighs to shield her from the subterranean drafts.
