Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 3a

The raiding party left before dawn. Meresh had come by my hut so I could wish him well. In my grogginess, he had stolen a kiss from my cheek and left with a grin. I'm glad I did all my cleaning days ago. Every time they headed out to battle, I made sure to rest as much as I could, because I knew I would be inundated with injuries to heal when they returned.

Upon waking, I strode out of my hut, a smile playing at my lips because only a few guards had stayed behind. Best of all, Grash was gone. I wouldn't have to scurry about avoiding his leering gaze.

I took the opportunity to snatch a few strips of drying meat and corn cakes. I would need my strength later, and extra food would help. It was afternoon when I finished puttering around the compound, so I settled down for a nap.

* * *

The sound of blood-curdling screams woke me, and I sat up, brow furrowing as I looked around. My hut was empty, but outside, children ran and women shouted.

Then I smelled smoke.

Fear coursed like lightning in my veins and I ran outside. My guard was gone. All the guards were gone. I saw bodies strewn about with arrows in their backs.

In their backs. They had been running.

This was a raid . . . on us.

I raced back inside and hauled my bed skins onto a floor mat, the sharpened stick with it. I tossed in the bits of food I had stolen and rolled the mat up tightly, binding it with a leather cord and lifting it to my side. Smoke began filling the hut, and I looked up. Flames licked at one corner, making my stomach lurch.

I stopped at my doorway and peeked out. Most of the raiders seemed to be concentrated around the chieftain's hut, so I scurried out and ran in the opposite direction. I made it as far as the perimeter fence when I heard the whizzing of an arrow. I didn't bother turning around, and instead put all my energy into a burst of speed. Another arrow whizzed past my ear, and I ran in zigzag patterns, hoping to make myself a harder target. From the corner of my eye I saw another running woman fall forward, victim of another arrow.

"Get that pale one," I heard a man bark. "Borga says they all die."

Borga? Wasn't he the new Kratt Chieftain? The one who killed Aberrations.

My legs pumped even harder.

I ran hard toward the river, not knowing if I was being pursued or not. Why were these men striking down women and children? Who would do such a thing? As I waded into the shallow part of the river, I risked a glance backward.

Just in time for an arrow to bite deep into my shoulder.

The impact knocked me forward, nearly hurling me face-first into the water. This couldn't be happening. Was I going to die here?

I gritted my teeth and waded deeper into the water, desperate to cross it and continue sprinting for my life. Another arrow splashed next to me as I reached the other side, and I broke out into a run again, forgetting all about the damage to my shoulder. My lungs heaved for air and my legs screamed with fatigue, but I dared not stop.

I wasn't sure what direction I was going or how far I had gone. My last look back had cost me, and I wasn't about to earn another arrow. The river water dried from my skin as I ran, replaced by sweat from the hot afternoon sun. I headed toward a cluster of trees dotting the horizon, since the vast, flat plains offered no hiding place.

My pace faltered before I could reach the tree line, and I slowed to a jog. My lungs burned, and my good arm ached from clutching the roll. I hardly ever exerted myself on the compound. There wasn't much reason or opportunity to. I was not athletic by any stretch of the imagination. Fear kept me going.

When I reached the first outlying tree, I finally allowed myself to stop. My hand pressed against the bark as I gulped for air. A quick look behind me confirmed no pursuers. All I could see were the black plumes of smoke rising from the burning compound. Were there any other survivors? I wondered if Pimo somehow managed to get away or hide. Despite my past fantasies in wishing him harm, I didn't actually desire death upon the only link I had left to my mother.

I shuffled farther into the trees before sinking down and finally letting myself rest against a tree. The arrow in my shoulder bumped against the bark, and air hissed through my teeth as pain lanced through me, intense and throbbing. My blood had been racing during my sprint for life, and now it soaked the hide of my dress as it oozed from the wound. I needed to get the arrow out and stanch the bleeding. My head was already beginning to spin.

I craned my neck around to get a better look at the arrow, and the movement caused me to gasp. I could barely wrap my hand around the shaft. I gingerly pulled, and more pain went shooting through my arm. The arrowhead was firmly embedded. I recalled that the correct way to remove an arrow was to push it through and break off the head, but it seemed to be lodged in the joint. There was no way to push it through.

The awkward angle made it nearly impossible to yank it straight out, so I would have to do the best I could. I gripped the shaft again, right against my skin, took a few bracing breaths, and then wrenched with all my might. The arrowhead tore my flesh and shredded my skin as it came out. My cry was so loud it scared birds out of their roosts. Excruciating agony twisted through my arm and back. Nausea burbled in my chest, and I struggled to stop the forest from spinning around me.

I collapsed against the tree, utterly exhausted. Between ragged breaths, I could feel the blood coursing out of the newly enlarged wound. My vision dimmed. I was fading fast. With my last bit of strength I slid my hand over the wound, healing it just enough to stop the bleeding before slowly slumping to the ground.

Then the world went dark.

Ever yank an arrow out of your shoulder? Yeah me neither. Let's give Siena a vote for going through that.