On Death's Honor

Chapter 13: Slimy Slugs

I fell asleep.

It wasn't one of those deep, comforting sleeps one falls into after a hard day of work, however. It was almost akin to a blackout. I couldn't recall closing my eyes, much less arriving to the living world. Not enough to slip into a dream.

Which was good, I supposed. No one could track me if my mind couldn't focus enough to dwell away from the waking world.

Now, my eyes were open. I wasn't sure how many times I'd blinked until I realized that I was currently staring up at a clear, dawning sky, the breeze cold and unwelcoming to my bare skin. Judging from my peripheral, I was somewhere in a sparse woodland, with branches of leafless trees stretching up to the sky, begging for a moment's worth of warmth. The undergrowth consisted of small bushes and thistles, remnants of dry, dead leaves blanketing otherwise solid, hard ground.

Groggily, I moved my eyes, gazing down at myself. My arms were folded loosely over my breasts, as if I'd tried covering them at some point. The bandages that had been around my injured arm in the wayfold were gone, too, so I had a pretty decent view of the still healing tears and scabbings that Bogdan didn't bother healing. He'd covered just enough damage to ensure my movements would not be limited, leaving everything else up to time to heal. I wanted to raise my head to assess the rest of the damage, but it was as if every muscle in my body had turned to jelly. I couldn't move. At all.

What just happened? The inside of my nose burned, and my throat felt as parched as a desert. I tried to work enough moister in my mouth to speak, struggling to recall all that had happened before I'd gotten here. Where was Bogdan?

"Pa, over here!" I heard a young, female voice shout. "This way!"

Oh no.

Twigs snapped. Leaves crunched. Two sets of rushed footprints; one smaller, lighter, while the other was much heavier.

"Amly, I told you - stop runnin' so fast!"

"But she's hurt," the girl objected.

"Amly!" the older man snapped. I couldn't see the newcomers, but if his tone of voice was anything to take note of, I could just imagine him snatching the girl's arm. "Tell me what happened, first."

"She's hurt."

"Amly - Amly! Wait-"

The footsteps neared, until suddenly the man's voice came to an abrupt halt.

"Here!" the girl exclaimed.

"Amly-" the man warned, but the girl had already emerged from wherever direction they had come, rushing up to my side. I tried to speak, to move, anything, but I may as well have been screaming at a rock to budge on its own. The man cleared his throat. "Amly, get back here." He sounded angry. Not that I blamed him. He was currently looking at a battered woman completely naked in the woods. I could hear the fear as clear as day in his voice.

Even before the girl appeared over my face, I could tell that she was young, since it seemed that she didn't recognize the kind of danger her father presumed they were in. A small, oval face stared down at me with clear, bright blue eyes and bronze-colored skin, a splash of freckles covering the bridge of her nose and gentle cheekbones. Strands of black hair cupped her cheeks, while the rest of her hair fell over a rough black cloak. Upon seeing my narrowed eyes, her own widened.

"Pa, she's awake!" She reached out to touch my cheek, her small fingers oddly warm. "It's okay, Miss. Can you talk?"

Behind her, I heard the man swear beneath his breath. I could hear him approaching, and I couldn't help the swell of panic filling my chest when, once more, I found that moving anything appeared to be no easy task.