Flying 191
Parmenides lay under the cover of the jutted granite outcropping of jagged rock which made up the largest part of a fifty foot cliff. Heavy underbrush snippets and bits of sticky leaves from a large vine clung to his armor. His right arm was damaged; the armor had a bent look about it around the forearm �the way a can looks when hit in the center by the side of a fist. He was breathing heavily just from the enormous effort of reaching this shelter, if it could be called that. He had carried Treste for more than a mile through the forest and down into the jungle trenches. She lay to his left against a muddy bank. He struggled to bring Treste closer to his side, scanning around them as he did. They had been in the wild for three days now. They were still alive, though barely. The Guardian handbook had been straight forward about their survival chances. First day, good. Second day, fair. Third day, poor. Forth day, unlikely �which was a lousy way to say, not a chance in the world.
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Flying 192
All caravans had risks, to be sure. But, a caravan to the nearest miner�s supply camp was considered to be an easy first outing. That would have been the case except for Thrasymachus. Parmenides had noted that he had had eyes for Treste, but inasmuch as Thrasymachus was old enough to be her father, he let his observations go as �harmless glances.� Parmenides remembered well what happened when Thrasymachus made his move on Treste. Treste had been very explicit in recounting what had occurred.
Treste had been riding guard beside Thrasymachus in the driver�s box. (Parmenides reminded himself that if they ever got back to the Keep, he would find out how that assignment had been arranged. New goers should be in the wagon hold, not riding by the driver.) They were on a very straight road through the woods beside the vine killer hills, enough so that Thrasymachus could give the horses their lead and let them �do their own thing.� He had tried to force himself on Treste, but when she would have nothing to do with him, he turned violent and came after her with his dagger. He had secured the back door to the rest of the wagon, so there was no escape there. She knew it was a dangerous move to make, but she went out the top hatch to try to make it around back to be seen by the rear guard, who was Parmenides, before something got her. She had not expected Thrasymachus to follow; she was willing to sacrifice herself, for she had every reason to believe that the back hatch would not be opened, unless Parmenides somehow went against his training, which was next to unthinkable. She could not believe that he had followed right after her, even leaving the hatch ajar. It was as if Thrasymachus had been given some sort of aggression drug. But, that would have been practically impossible.
The moment she rounded the back of the wagon the Maulers attacked.
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Flying 193
Thrasymachus was close behind her, but as he reached the corner of the wagon, he was caught from behind by a huge Mauler that had sprung from the dense green vines that twisted their way up the large pines that lined the road. It bit and its terrible teeth tore a large hole in the back of the armor of his right leg. Thrasymachus was almost on Treste, but as the Mauler attacked he twisted around and backhanded it with his sword. It was a good blow to the front legs and the Mauler was crippled and could only press on with its back legs. The effort only turned it in circles. But, the Mauler had made its pass and the hole in the armor gaped like an axe slash in soft birch. Thrasymachus tried to cover the hole with his glove as quickly as he could so that he could apply an emergency armor patch, but a blue trace of Wisp tentacle had already entered. He stopped cold in his tracks, struggled within his armor, then for a split second stood stock still, his head tilted back. Then, he reached up and pushed his visor back. He turned towards Treste, blue cataract Wisp eyes glaring a dead shark stare. He attacked her full force.
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Flying 194
It had been three days since they had arrived at the ER Ward from the Wisp battle in the courtyard. Terra had had a serious operation on her mouth, Noesis had been told. He had tried to see her, but her physicians would not let him. They said that the operation to her mouth was a complex one, and that her mental state needed careful attention. His presence may not be feasible in her current state of recovery, though at the proper time, it would certainly be needed. He was also told that the wound to his arm was serious and that he was to follow the physical therapist�s instructions to the letter. He was doing that, though the exercises brought tears to his eyes from the pain, tears that he struggled to hide by wiping away, but could not because he had to exercise with both arms. But, he would not let the therapist cleanse them from his face. They left silver streaks of past horror down his cheeks and along the sides of his neck, a face which had seem to age in a mere three days from a young man to a seasoned warrior. It wasn�t that his physical appearance had changed, just that he carried the weight of battle on his shoulders and in his heart. Nothing else is like that weight. Nothing else hardens the soul or rips away the joy of seeing the world as a peaceful place than that weight. The dense solidity of the horror emanated from his body --the simmering boiling aura of the capability to kill in a moment. From his heart, the brutal heavy drum beat that told anyone near him that he had done so. He was a killer. No longer Noesis the would be guardian, but Noesis the death maker. People could not hear it but they could sense it. Soldiers of battle, as he, have no innocence; the drum of death making beats always in their being.
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Flying 195
Noesis was not going to wait to see Terra. He knew that she wanted to see him as badly as he wanted to see her. Not correct. He wanted to see her more. Her ward room was in the next hall. Not too far. All he had to do was to get himself there without being recognized as a patient out of place. His armor was in his room, though he was not supposed to wear it. It would adjust to the injury proportions that the surgery on his arm had made �his arm was a nasty shade of purple and a brown orange, with zig zag stitch makes running along muscle patterns-- but, it would be armor, battle ready, and would not ease up on sudden movements or extended reaches. So be it. He would make a try at being a fill in guardian pushing a weight cart to another ward.
He waited as his physical therapist nurse to make her rounds. She came in with an easy walk, looking him over the way a cat would look over a bird it was about to catch. Gabrialle. She was middle aged and seemed not to be too aware of what he was doing or thinking. Medium height, strong build, and big hands, though they were magic in the way she could use them to put pressure points on a certain bad spot of pain making it go away or put salve on in just the right amount in a tricky place next to painful stitches. She was easy going, in a strange �catch you off guard� way that made Noesis think that she was paying more attention to her therapy than what was going on in his mind. But, he knew better. She must have treated plenty like him before. It would take real cunning to get by her station. She had come in to inspect and dress his healing scars before therapy in an hour.
�Feeling better today?� she asked with a look at his eyes, then to the dressings, which she unwrapped.
�Yes, much better, thank you. The exercises are hard and hurt. Even so, they must be helping, for I can move my fingers a bit.� He crimped the fingers of his left hand.
�Looks good. The stitches are doing well and no infection is indicated. Yes, the exercise is important for you to do.� She reached out and took his arm, rotating it so that she could see the condition of the bandages.
�I think that you are right,� replied Noesis. He was fidgeting with his underarmor sleeve, wondering when she would leave so that he could make a move. He figured that if he put on his armor and strode out pushing the exercise cart loaded with weights, he could get to Terra�s ward unnoticed, see Terra, and be back for therapy. He shot a glance at the weights to estimate how hard the cart would be to push.
�Well, everything looks fine and I think that you will be out of here tomorrow, though you�ll have to see me twice a day for three weeks. You�ll have to stay for an extended session in four or five more days for us to take out some of the major stitches. In the meantime, just take it easy between the exercises. I�ll be back in about an hour to start on some of the arm curls.� Gabrialle gave Noesis a thump on his right shoulder and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
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Flying 196
No sooner had the door closed than Noesis was on his feet moving almost in combat mode. He rushed to his armor and called it. It wrapped itself around him like the embrace of an old friend. He turned a bit too quickly to reach for the handle of the cart and a sharp pain shot up through his left arm: his armor was flexible, but still battle tight and the pressure on the wound hurt. Not just hurt, he had to grit his teeth from the pain. He reminded himself to use his right arm for most of the pushing. With a grunt, he got the cart rolling and stopped it right at the door. He opened the door slowly. No one in sight. �Clear path, done deal,� he said confidently to himself as he pushed the cart through the door.
But, the cart stopped abruptly halfway through the door. It seemed to be stuck on something. He leaned over the cart to see a broom stick that had been stuck just before the back wheels went through the door. �What the�?� he thought to himself.
Gabrialle�s face came from around the side of the door where she had been pressed against the wall. Her eyes were in a combat squint.
�Going somewhere?� asked Gabrialle, hand on hips.
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Flying 197
Noesis knew better than to lie or try some flimsy story. �I was trying to get to see my friend Terra who is on another ward nearby. The physicians say that they do not want her to have visitors, but I know that she would want to see me.� Gabrialle reached down and pulled the broom handle out from under the cart. Noesis backed the cart back into his room and Gabrialle came in slowly shaking her head.
�I know who she is. Terra, right?� Noesis nodded. �What makes you think that you know that it would be good to visit her? She had a bad round with a Wisp. You�re smart enough to realize what that means. Moreover, she had extensive surgery on her tongue. So, she won�t be able to talk. So, hot shot here is going to walk in his armor and make everything alright?� Gabrialle was glaring at him.
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Flying 198
Noesis stood silent for a moment, then looked Gabrialle in the eyes with a cold hard stare, but the stone regard had a hint of �please help me� in it. �Terra and I are a team. A team in every sense of the word. I think that seeing her would help her. But, you are right; the physicians probably know better. Still, do this for me. Go down to her room and ask her if she would like for me to come in just for a moment. She�ll probably say no, but tell her that it is more for me than her, which it is. I haven�t seen or heard from her and I am sure that she is awake. I can�t stand it. Does she blame me for her injuries; I have this terrible thought that she does? If she still says no after you have explained to her how I am, then that�s it. I�ll wait until she wants to see me.� Noesis squared his shoulders, never letting his eyes move from Gabrialle�s.
Gabrialle shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to another. Thinking about this young boy who had overnight become a hard core Guardian, or at least, someone not to be messed with. She brushed back some locks of dark brown hair that had streaks of silver gray running through it in hap hazard patterns. �If I say no to your request, you�ll make a try sooner or later, am I right?�
Noesis did not reply but kept his cold warrior stare.
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Flying 199
�That�s what I thought. Ok, I�ll be back in a moment. And take your armor off. It�s probably not doing your arm any good at all. Matter of fact, I�m surprised that you can stand here and talk so well. I would think that after muscling that weight cart over to the door, your arm would be hurting enough to make it hard to breathe.� She gave him a look up and down, turned and walked away muttering something to herself. Noesis caught a bit of it. �Interesting. Very tricky. More to him than I thought. Tough young blade, but why on my ward?�
Gabrialle knew what she was talking about with the armor. His arm felt as though the Mauler had returned and was gnawing its razor sharp teeth into it sinew by sinew. Noesis rushed over to his armor closet and called for the armor off. It sprang neatly into the closet. He went over and sat on his bed gently rubbing his arm and letting it rest against his stomach. It hurt as badly as the strange sensation that he was having. The arm was a physical pain, but the other hurt was a mind pain; he was afraid for Terra. That was an emotion, not a rational idea. He felt afraid, lonely. That hurt. Badly enough to bring tears to his eyes. Something was changing in him, and as far as being a Guardian, it was not for the better.
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Flying 200
Gabrialle returned in a few minutes. She gave Noesis another hard look. She saw that he had taken off his armor and by the way he was holding his left arm close to his stomach, there was no doubt in her mind that he was in considerable pain. As far as his eyes went, there was determination in them that she knew could not be broken.
She sat down next to him and turned to face him straight on. �I asked her if she would like to see you, and she replied in the negative as you said. But, I told her that it would mean a lot to you, if she said yes. I emphasized that you were looking for her help. She thought for a second and then said yes.� Gabrialle looked sternly at Noesis. There was a bond between these two that she knew about from the underground talk in the wards. Noesis and Terra had a team relationship in the Guardian sense, which was a profound one. That relationship revolved completely around trust and commitment; either one would give his/her life for the other. Yet, there was more, an underlying emotional �that was what the underground gossip called it�relationship. Which meant that they had feelings for one another. That was supposed to be impossible after an entire childhood of training and conditioning.
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Flying 201
Gabrialle had taken off her helmet. She smoothed back her full bodied hair with its silver streaks using her right hand. The fingers of her left hand went up to touch her lips in a pensive manner. She gave an slight nod.
�Terra has been through a lot. I don�t know whether or not, your seeing her would be good. My overall assessment is that it would. I�m breaking some rules somewhat to get you in to see her. But, the main thing is, I don�t want you to do anything or say anything that will bring back the Wisp rape of her mind. You upset her fragile state and you�ll have to deal with me. And let me tell you now, you will be in a world of hurt should that become the case.� Gabrialle�s eyes were so dark brown that they were almost black. They slanted back like cat eyes. Her nose was pointed, but not thin. Her mouth was full with bright teeth. Being a physical therapist, she was strong as an ox and quick as lightning. For a second, Noesis had the vision that he was head to head with a lioness.
�I understand and will do as you say. Done. You will come in with me, just so I don�t have any trouble myself?� Noesis shifted his hands so that the right one held up his left arm.
Gabrialle did a double take. For a second the young warrior had returned to a wounded young man, frightened by his injuries and those of his friend. He had tried to misdirect her in thinking that he was talking about his arm. Good misdirection, but she had been dealing with Guardian soldiers for too long to be fooled. Again her suspicions arose that he had feelings, and probably the girl had them, too. This girl, Terra, was clearly more than a friend but, as Noesis had emphasized, �a team� in every sense of the word. In Guardian language, that meant that the two were partners to the death. So young to say that, unless they had regained some sort of feelings. And that was, to raise the red flag in her mind once more: impossible, given their extensive conditioning and training. Yet, the signs were there.
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Flying 202
�Huh,� a red flag went off in her head. She thought to herself. �Better not let anyone know about the appearance of feelings, seeing as how I�m not supposed to have any idea about them.�
She nodded to Noesis. �Yes, I�ll come with you. In fact, that�s the only way for you to get in. Just be quiet and hand me what I ask for when it is appropriate.� Gabrielle looked back at Noesis and the warrior came back to his presence, though she could see an underlying something going on. He wasn�t thinking, he was feeling. She had never seen that before. There were changes going on in the Keep.
Gabrialle took a rubdown sheet from the linen closet, wrapped it around Noesis, gave him a stack of hand towels, put a scrub hat over his head and led him out the hall towards Terra�s ward.
The corridors were busy. Everyone gave them a once over, but the cover seemed to work. Twice, Gabrialle left Noesis outside a ward room while she took in a towel to whomever was in the room. In just a few minutes they had made their way down his ward and into Terra�s.
Noesis was trying not to look, but it was difficult not to. The hallways were polished white marble interlaced with gray patterns that looked like cirrus clouds, the floors the same granite, but not polished. Doors lined the corridors. All of them were forged steel, resistant to forced entry. But, many of them were open and Noesis caught glimpses of persons sitting in them half covered with linen sheets, or in some cases, lying down with many machines and tubes attached to all parts of their bodies. There was one person who was strapped to his bed. He was twisting his head back and forth while snapping his teeth together. When Noesis saw him, a cold shiver ran through his body.
Gabrialle stopped at a closed door. A chart hung on a chain attached to the door. There was a lot of writing on the chart with red check marks in numerous places. On the top of the chart was labeled, Terra, use extra caution.
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Flying 203
�Are you certain that you want to do this and are ready for what you may find?� She took a towel from the stack he was carrying and put it over her forearm.
�I am certain and ready,� said Noesis, though his stomach was tied in a knot.
Gabrialle opened the door and entered. Terra was in her bed sitting up. She looked up. When she saw Noesis, her hands went up to cover the thick bandages around her mouth and chin. Her eyes were red rimmed from struggle and pain. Blue streaks ran up from the sides the top of her nose down below her eyes, then up around the outside edges of her eyelids. She turned away from them towards the wall pulling up a sheet to hide her face.
Gabrialle spoke. �Terra, if you do not want us to advance further, hold up one finger. If you want us to leave, hold up two. A thumb and forefinger, we will come to your side.�
For a moment, Terra did not move. Then she made a thumb and forefinger sign with her right hand which they could barely see above the sheet. Gabrialle and Noesis went to her bedside. Gabrialle grabbed two stools as they went over.
Noesis spoke. A hushed voice and Gabrialle could hear the pain in them.
�Terra. I had to come see you. I have been falling apart without you.�
Terra turned slowly and looked at him. Then at Gabrialle.
Gabrialle knew that they needed to be alone. She could sense the feelings between them. Yes, feelings. These two were special. And she could see that Terra had an idea that she knew that.
She stood up from her stool. �I�ll be at the door. Guarding. In case a physician comes by and strts to come in, Noesis, go over to the used towels in the corner and put them in the linen bag beside them. Make it look like you are a bit late picking them up. Hurry back out to me.�
�Done,� said Noesis.
Gabrialle left the room, closing the door behind her.
Terra and Noesis faced each other for an eternal moment.
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Flying 204
Slowly, Terra;s eyes began to glisten. A tear formed at the bottom of her right eye and hung there as a dewdrop would on a rose petal. Noesis took one of the towels he had been carrying and reached over. He slowly wiped the tear away. He had to use the towel himself, for he could feel the tears brim on his eyelids, too.
�I messed up,� said Noesis. �I should never have let you get into what we got into.�
Terra�s eyes widened. She held up one finger.
�What does that mean?� asked Noesis. �Wait. Let�s do a quick code. One finger is a yes. Two, no. Three, danger. Four, I�ll think about it. Five, I think that way, too.� Noesis eased his stool closer to Terra.
�Did I do something wrong?� asked Noesis. His body was tense and he leaned forward.
Two fingers. Noesis sat back just a bit on the stool. He kept running his right hand up and down over the bandages on his left arm. The sheet slipped away and Terra looked at his arm. She closed her eyes. Then pressed her eyelids together tightly, but not enough to stop the tears that started.
�Oh, Terra. I don�t mean to make things worse. Let me just say what I need to say and I�ll go back to my room. I am falling apart. Before the Wisp battle, I was Noesis. Now I don�t know who I am. Well, I know that I am Noesis, but I am very, very different. The battle changed me, and I don�t know if it was for the better. There�s a part of me that is like a savager; it scares me. And I�ve got these feelings. Yeh, feelings. I was afraid, yeh that�s the feeling, that you would not see me, afraid so much so that I could not eat or sleep. I am scared for myself and you. I hurt inside my head and it makes my body feel like it�s numb or rotten. I know you probably have some feelings, and I hope that you don�t feel as badly as I do. I can see why they trained them out of us. Are they swelling up inside you, too� Noesis looked over at Terra. She had covered the bottom of her face with the sheet, but her eyes were boring into his. And the tears were flowing down her face.
She held up one finger, then five.
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Flying 205
� Bert Russell, August 29, 2006, all rights reserved
Noesis took the towel he was holding and gently caught the tears that were running down onto the sheet that she had used to cover the bottom of her face. The made soft wet grays on the white fabric. As he was moving the towel across under her left eye, she let the sheet fall. He could see the bandages, crisscrossing around her lower face, giving it the appearance of a bowl hanging from her nose and ears. It was stained through with a brownish tincture. Her mouth was terribly swollen; he could tell, for the bandages did nothing to disguise the puffiness of her jaw. He stared at her face. He reached to the corner of the sheet that covered him, slowly pulled it from his body and let it fall to the ground. Terra saw the blood ooze stains on the bandages from his stitches; he had disturbed them trying to get his armor on. She reached over with her left hand and took his right, giving it a squeeze and drawing it to her.
Noesis looked at his arm then at her face. �Bad wounds. Both of us. I fear that we will not make the physical tests for Outside trips.� He shook his head and a tremor ran through his body. His whole childhood had been built around doing service in defense of the Keep and especially getting the needed materials from the dangerous outside. Now, that looked to be finished. For both of them
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Flying 206
Terra looked deeply into Noesis� eyes and saw the pain, not the physical pain, but the feelings. Feelings which she had just as strongly. She could see the torment stretch across his face and draw his eyebrows together into a ragged M, eyes squinting, teeth clenched. She could see the flush of anguish across his cheeks. She could hear the despair in his voice. It was a reflection of herself.
�I think my future is doomed,� said Noesis. His faced reddened and he choked on the last word.
Her right hand shot up with two fingers.
�No? What hope have I, us? It will take a miracle to get us well.�
She held up a sequence of one through five fingers.
�What do you mean? We have hope?�
One finger.
�A miracle?�
Two fingers.
�We can get through this ourselves; you must be crazy?�
Three fingers.
�You knew I would say that.�
One finger.
You really think that we can work our way back?�
One finger.
Noesis shook his head slowly.
�Look at my arm�
Terra looked at it. Reached over and touched it lightly. Then she took the hand she was holding and touched it to her face, across the swollen bandages. Noesis couldn�t hold it back. Tears came out and washed down across his face. All he could do was to hold her hand and squeeze it with the tenderness that he felt from the rock bottom of his heart.
Terra pointed out to a small wooden plaque on the wall. Noesis looked through blurred eyes, but the message was clear. On it was written, KEEP THE FAITH AND HAVE FAITH IN THE KEEP. Noesis tried to speak, but couldn�t. He held up five fingers.
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Flying 207
Three days on the run. The battle at the wagons was coming back to him again as he gained his breath. He could not sense his body it hurt so much; numb shock and fatigue had taken over. He looked over at Treste. She lay against the bank, her armor covered in the muck of flight and the trauma of struggle. He could tell that she was breathing, her armor expanded ever so slightly, but he knew that she was badly hurt. The escape from the battle came back to him in a teeth grinding flash.
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Flying 208
Treste had fought bravely against Thrasymachus, but he was far more powerful. He had backed her against the wagon side and would have been able to puncture her armor with his dagger had not Parmenides jumped from the back of the wagon and pummeled him with a series of blows to his right side. Treste was able to slip under the wagon while Thrasymachus turned his wrath on Parmenides. Parmenides could see that he was no match for Thrasymachus and followed Treste under the wagon to the other side. Thrasymachus was too large to make it under the wagons and turned to take on Maulers in a feigned fight. The whole wagon train had erupted in battle. All of the Guardians that were in Parmenides and Treste�s wagon had been taken by surprise by Maulers that had climbed in the open hatch that Thrasymachus had used. They had become easy prey for the Maulers in such close quarters and, finally, Wisps. The crew had come out to join Thrasymachus in the staged fight.
Rather than try to make it to another wagon, Parmenides and Treste slid down a bank into thick brush which hid them, though they could still see most of the wagon train. It was not pretty. The Wisp agents from their wagon came out and went to Thrasymachus aid. Maulers were attacking him. They slew some of the Maulers, while the others backed off. The Wisp Guardians acted as though they were preparing to get back into the wagon, but drew around a back wheel, pointing and gesturing. It was all a Wisp ploy. After too much time had gone by, the hatch of the second wagon opened and the driver called to them to hurry up with the repairs or move out of the way. It was all that a second set of Maulers and Wisps needed to get into that wagon. After that, things turned for the worse as the two wagons, now operated by Wisp agents, blocked the road. Disaster followed as one wagon after the other fell to Wisp penetration.
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Flying 209
Treste and Parmenides knew better than to stay around. They took off at a run through the brush down a dry stream bed. The going was tough. They had to jump over small rounded boulders worn smooth by countless flood waters. On some of the landings, they would hit flat rocks that were lying on round stones making a see saw. More than once, both took bad falls. After a hundred yards they took refuge under a high bank that had been carved out of the forest by flood waters, almost as if a giant hand had scooped the dirt out from under the bank�s surface. The bank was only four feet tall, but the hollowed out part went a good six feet under the surface because the stream bed made a turn at that point. Large roots from trees above cascaded down at the edge giving the small space that they crawled into the look of a cage. Which it was, for the trees above were stranglers. While they were resting against the back of the stone and dirt clay wall, Parmenides noticed that the roots hanging from the surface over the hollow were moving closer together; the light had gotten dimmer. He shouted a warning to Treste and pushed through the tangle of roots that was forming to ensnare them. He had made it through, but Treste had been caught by a large root that had encircled her left ankle. It was a red, knurled with black sinew like tendrils. The smaller tendrils latched on and slowly wrapped around her ankle, beginning to draw her back to the other larger roots which started to make loops to encase her whole body.
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Flying 210
Parmenides and Treste fought furiously. He slashed at the root�s main stem, while she held off the smaller roots coming down from overhead. The roots reached out for them; stringy fingers with massive arms. Greenish sap splashed out on him and Treste, sap that was the consistency of almost frozen honey. Where it hit, anything and everything stuck to it. The smell was that of rotting turpentine. Grime, grit, small stones, twigs and dead leaves stuck to their armor like dreadful river leeches. Two of the massive loops creaked in a sound of expectancy as they wound around Treste like a python slowly laying the endless fingers that would curve around and crush the prey. Parmenides knew that he must do something fast, and he knew that trees hated fire. He reached in his back combat pocket and brought out a small flask of dark oil. He turned his sword point down and poured the oil from just below the handle to the point tip. He spun around and as he did he flipped a small switch at the edge of the handle. The sword became a blazing inferno of white hot fire. Raising the sword overhead he came down hard on the loam clad roots that had Treste. The effect was immediate. The sap of the roots where it bled from the cuts caught fire. The roots began to draw back, but not after they gave a massive squeeze of Treste�s rib cage. Parmenides heard her cry out in pain. Though the armor was strong, strangler roots were known to be as powerful as the vices in the Keep�s forge. He knew that she had been hurt. Badly. He pulled her free, put her over his shoulder and ran down the bank. He could hear her moaning with each step he took. They took refuge in a small grove of laurel bushes a few hundred yards down and above the stream bank, away from any exposed roots. He sat guard as the sun went down, giving her some food from their emergency packs. But, she threw it back up, with blood in it.
That was the first day.
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