at the bridge,” she says. “How did you get me here?”
“I carried you,” I answer quietly.
Her eyes widen. “What? Why?”
“Well, I couldn’t let you lay there and die,” I respond.
“Why not?” she mutters.
I answer her the same way I had answered one of my friends a few days earlier. “Because nobody deserves to die by the side of the road. I saw hope for you, so I decided I would help you get your best chance.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly. Then, a few seconds later she adds, “I owe you my life.”
“I was only helping a friend in need,” I respond. “Why were you there in the first place?”
She ponders for a moment. Then she replies, “I and my friend were travelling to deliver some goods from Kera to Terrace. That’s where I’m from: Kera. We were attacked by a band of thieves at the bridge. They took everything, including her. We killed one of them. I have no sword, so I used my bow. She used her sword. I was hit by one of their poisoned blades and they must have left me for dead.” Her voice trails off. As I study her eyes, there seems to be something wrong, like she is not telling the entire truth. However, I get the inkling that everything she has told me is truth. She looks away and breaks my gaze.
“I see,” I answer. “Do you have family in Terrace?”
She shakes her head.
“In Kera?”
She shakes her head again.
I nod and ask, “Do you have family?”
“I have none…” she mutters.
“Will you be able to walk tomorrow?”
She hesitates. “I do not know.”
“Well, get some sleep,” I say. “We will see in the morning.”
The next morning, she refuses to have help. “I can do it,” she says. “I can do it.” She’s stronger than she was the night before, but she is still weak. To stand, she pulls on a tree to help her get upright. Once standing, she takes a few deep breaths and then lets go of the tree. She’s still standing.
“Will you be able to walk?” I ask. “We cannot afford to lose time. Our journey requires all the speed we can muster.”
She does not answer, but takes a step forward. She wobbles slightly and holds her head. On the next step, she begins to fall over backwards.
I catch her before she hits the ground. Immediately she struggles away from me harder than she had to stand up. Her struggles somehow land her upright about a foot from me. She gives me a glare that says, “I can do it.”
I merely smile slightly with an expression that say, “Are you sure?”
Her next expression gives me no answer.
“We’re leaving in just a few minutes,” I say. “Be sure to get some breakfast.” Then I turn and walk to my pack across the camp.
She joins us a moment later. “Hello,” Percival says. “Are you feeling better this morning?”
She nods. “A little.”
“You’re standing and walking,” he observes. “That’s a step forward.”
She nods again and declines a chunk of bread that James offers. “I have my own,” she says. Then she hobbles back to her own pack a little ways away.
“Think she can keep up?” James asks.
“No idea,” I respond. “We’ll find out, I suppose.”
“If she doesn’t?” Nathaniel asks.
“No idea,” I repeat. “I’ve known her since last night and I know she’ll refuse to let me carry her. She might accept support. Probably a crutch.”
“What’s the plan once we get to Terrace?” Jericho asks. “You’ve got to have one.”
“I and Nathaniel stay with our mother,” I respond. “And we will kill anybody that tries to harm us or her.”
Jericho nods appreciatively. Aela’s brow furrows; she’s obviously eavesdropping.
“And with her?” James asks quietly.
I hesitate before answering. “She’s been through a lot, but has no family. Maybe we can be one for her.”
Aela leans back and her brow stays furrowed. She swallows whatever she had been chewing and turns towards her pack.
“Us?” asks Nathaniel, gesturing to the group. “Or us?” he points between me and him.
“Both,” I answer.
A twig snaps and we look to see Aela standing nearby with her pack and bow on her back. “We leaving?” she says coldly. “I thought you were in a hurry.”
I raise an eyebrow and look at Percival, who shrugs. As one we stand and join her.
She has trouble for the first part of the day. As I predicted, she finds a suitable stick to lean on, but she is slow. Her pace is persistent, however. She plows forward without stopping