Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 3b

I woke up shivering. When I opened my eyes, it appeared to be dusk. I pushed myself back up against the tree, wincing at the pain in my shoulder. I glanced around, trying to figure out where I was. To my left loomed the yellow expanse of the plains. To my right the trees sprang from the ground like protective soldiers.

My gritty, dry mouth reminded me I was exceedingly thirsty. I untied my roll and pulled out one of the hides, easing it across my shivering shoulders. I sighed and looked back across the plain where I had run, trying to see how close I was to the river. The black smoke no longer billowed across the sky, replaced by white wisps trailing above the compound.

The sky was a little brighter now. Dawn? Was I really unconscious all day and all night?

I licked my dry lips and contemplated going back. I had no idea what I would find there. Did the invaders leave? Did they perhaps take over the compound? Why else would they kill everyone?

Going back would be folly. I would have to find water elsewhere. I pulled a corn cake out of the roll and nibbled on it. The dry crumbs stuck in my throat, so I put it back and peered up at the sky, wondering at the chances of rain.

Not a cloud in the sky.

I dropped my head back against the tree with a thunk, looking up at the green expanse of branches above me. The leaves whispered melodically in the early morning breeze, and I closed my eyes to listen. Then I heard the distinctive rustling of leaves being pushed, and I opened my eyes, scanning the branches for the source of the sound. I saw nothing unusual, but I had the odd feeling of being watched.

The uneasiness made me gather my things back into the roll. I gasped as pain knifed through my shoulder. Touching the wound, I felt the jagged edges of damaged skin. I was still weak from my wild escape, but I needed more healing. It was strange, needing to heal myself. It happened so rarely. I finished healing the wound and tested it with a few shoulder rolls. Now it only ached a little.

I pushed myself back onto my feet and groaned at the soreness in my legs. I was definitely not a runner. I clutched the hide more tightly around me, hauled my roll up, and trudged forward.

I wasn't sure where I was going, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other, scouring bushes for berries or some sort of water source.

I found none.

As I walked on, I discovered the forest had a number of sharp things to poke and cut my bare feet. Only the warriors on the compound wore shoes. I never really needed them anyway. Until now.

My head started to ache. I found a patch of herbs that I recognized and chewed on some so at least my mouth didn't feel so dry. It didn't help much.

When I stopped to rest, the sun blazed high in the sky, but the forest was thicker here. The ground was covered in pine needles and dappled sunlight. I sat down against a tree and pulled a piece of dried meat from the roll. As I tore off chunks with my teeth, I looked around at the surrounding tree trunks and branches. I couldn't figure out if the prickles on the back of my neck were due to paranoia or something real.

Just to be safe, I unpacked my sharpened stick and strapped it to my leg with a piece of cord. If I was going to go down, I was taking someone's eye with me.

I swallowed, my parched throat aching for liquid. "Where can a girl get water around here?" I muttered to the trees. The woodland noises paused for a short time, then resumed their chattering, whispering symphony. There was so much life here. The trees, the chipmunks, the birds . . . I smiled despite my discomfort. The forest was alive, while the expansive plains stretched flat and boring, with the only sounds the rustling of grass. And warfare.

I pressed my forehead with my hand, trying to calm the pulsing that was starting there. I needed water, but this forest yielded none of its secrets to me. I couldn't see past the dense thickets of bark and brush. If I could only see above them.

I looked straight up at the branches above my head. Maybe I could climb.

I stood and found a tree with a branch within reach. I managed to pull myself onto it, but just barely. I wasn't strong. The bark was rough against my hands and battered feet, but I kept climbing. My sore legs complained with each successive branch.

I had gotten about halfway up the tree when a branch snapped off in my hands, causing me to lose balance. I wavered for an alarming moment, hands flailing in the air for something to steady me. Fingernails scraped bark, and my stomach lurched as I teetered off and plummeted into gravity's embrace.

My body battered against some branches and smaller limbs on my way down, slowing my descent a little. I scrambled for something to stop my fall—even a startled squirrel would do—but I was too clumsy. The ground rushed up too quickly, and I hit the pine-needled floor face-down, once again falling unconscious in this beautiful, unforgiving forest.

Unconscious again? Poor Siena. Please vote for her.