Leah's Hero - Miranda Martin Page 0,15

asks.

“My dad loved vids with cowboys and Indians,” I explain.

“Cowboy and what?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

“Never mind,” I say, shaking my head. “Let’s at least slow the bleeding and then I’ll show you.”

“How?” she asks.

I frown, considering. It’s not sanitary by any means, but it will be effective. “Mud.”

“Mud?”

“Yes,” I say. “Pack the wound with mud. I’ll deal with whatever comes after.”

We set to work. It doesn’t take long before he’s covered in mud, hiding the scars from his previous wounds and the new ones as well. At least he’s not going to bleed out on us. Now to build a way to take him back to the compound.

“We’ll need some strong branches and vines,” I say, searching the jungle around the small clearing we’re in.

“I wish Mick had kept her damn mouth shut,” Allie mutters.

“Huh?” I ask.

“She pushes you to go out to help and this happens,” Allie says, shaking her head. “I mean all the gathering expeditions I’ve done with everyone else, nothing more than a few scratches. I go out once with you, and we get attacked by an animal and rescued by… whatever this guy is.”

The smile on her face takes the sting out of her words.

“Sorry?” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“You should be,” she laughs. “I mean seriously, does trouble, like, follow you?”

The painful memory throbs in the back of my head, but the immediacy of the situation we’re in doesn’t allow the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. I push it away.

“It sure seems to,” I say.

“All right, show me what to do,” Allie says.

She follows my instructions as if I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen these things in vids which doesn’t mean they’re really a thing at all. It sure doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing to build one.

It takes some time, but we manage to get something together that looks like it will work. We’ve bound the Zmaj to a framework of two long sticks with lengths of vine.

“Well if he does have bad intentions, we’ve at least tied him up,” Allie says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Now the hard part.”

We each take hold of one of the sticks that make the core of my framework idea. Leaning forward I pull with all I’ve got, and we take a slow, hard step. I’m panting already.

“Oh,” Allie says, panting as well. “This is going to be fun.”

“You think?” I ask, wiping the sweat and rain from my brow.

We lean into it again. As we pull forward it gets easier, until at last, we’re moving through the jungle. Slowly. But moving at all is better than what we were accomplishing. It takes us at least four times longer to get home than it did to get to where we found him, but we make it at last.

When the vine-covered blob that is our shelter comes into view through the trees, I’m giddy with relief and a laugh slips out.

“What’s so funny?” Allie asks.

“Nothing. Home,” I say, shaking my head.

My heart is pounding. I’m in no kind of shape to pulling a several-hundred-pound man through a jungle. I’m proud of myself for having made it at all.

“I’m done,” Allie says as she stumbles forward and drops to her knees.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Let’s go get help.”

As we pick our way through the trees to the compound, Rakstan emerges through the covering foliage.

“Where have you been!” he exclaims, his voice almost a growl.

Butterflies dance in my stomach but I square my shoulders and face him.

“We need help over here,” I say, pointing back to where we left the Zmaj.

“Help? Are you hurt?” Rakstan leaps as he talks, wings spreading and gliding through the air.

He lands a couple of feet in front of us, looking us over for wounds.

“Not us,” I say.

“Who went with you?” he asks, pushing past us. “I thought you were—”

He stops talking as soon as he sees the Zmaj on the travois. He runs over and drops to his knees next to him. He wipes the hair out of his face and cups it in both of his hands.

“Urukol?” he asks. “How can this be?”

The disbelief is clear in his voice, though I don’t understand it. Seconds tick past, but I can’t force words out of my mouth. This moment is strangely tender, poignant with a past I know nothing about.

“He’s hurt,” Allie says.

Her voice shatters the silence. Rakstan grabs Urukol up and lifts, the entire apparatus coming with him. He growls as he sets him back down. He tears at the vines