heart and I rise to a crouch, rushing ahead. Urukol’s head floats almost disembodied as he hangs on by his one good arm.
I slide to a halt a foot in front of him and drop to my knees. He was blown off of a cliff, but his clawed hand found purchase before he fell to what would have been certain death. I grab his arm and pull, but its ineffective. He’s too big.
“HELP!” I yell.
Angota appears as if he was waiting for my call. He grabs Urukol’s arm, leans back to dig his feet into the mud, and then he pulls. The muscles of his arm bulge, bigger and bigger, until they look impossible.
The sound of Urukol’s feet scrabbling against rock comes over the cliff, and then he slides over the edge. He climbs to his feet, shaking his head. He’s covered in mud, as am I, but he’s alive. I throw my arms around him without thinking.
He stiffens as soon as I do, and it’s instantly awkward. I let him go, stepping back, my face burning despite the cold rain that’s still falling, if not as heavy as it was. The wind has died down for the moment, and our group gathers into a circle.
Lightning flashes casting all of us in negative relief. The world is frozen for the instant of that bright white flash and somehow it looks more sinister. All of us do. Then it’s gone and the thunder peals, resonating in my bones.
“We can’t make it,” Rakstan says.
“We must,” Urukol says.
“We almost lost you. It’s too dangerous,” I say, looking at Riley to judge if I chose my words correctly. She doesn’t correct me so they must be close enough to convey what I mean.
“I agree,” Angota says. “Dangerous. Go back.”
Urukol opens his mouth to argue but stops. He looks the group over and shakes his head. He says something I don’t understand that Angota responds to, then it seems they’re all in agreement.
“I’ll lead,” Rakstan says.
We switch our order around and now Urukol is in the rear with me right in front of him still. We head for home. It’s a blow for sure. I saw how high those water marks were in there. Still it’s better than being out in this, at least until the worst of the storm passes over. It seems like the best idea.
The storm has eased up, almost to the point I think we should keep going, but as if in answer to my thought, it rains harder and the wind picks up. We huddle closer together now. Keeping close enough to put an arm on the shoulder of the person in front of us.
My legs feel heavy. My entire body does. I don’t want to keep moving. I’m tired. Cold, wet, and tired. I need a nap. Food too, my stomach grumbles in protest. I cross my arms over it and hunch my shoulders, leaning into the wind.
He stiffened when I hugged him. God, he must think I’m terrible.
Why would he think that? What did I do wrong? Besides everything, forward much? The Zmaj aren’t humans. They dedicate themselves to a single mate. Forever, they say. I’m not his mate, he probably thought I was being aggressive or something. Obviously, he didn’t know how to react, and just as obviously, my advances weren’t welcome.
It was emotional only anyway. Relief that he wasn’t dead. That’s all. Nothing to do with the way he looks at me sometimes. Nope, nothing at all. I’m perfectly innocent of emotional attachments. Right.
Still, it was a strange reaction. Am I repulsive to him?
Dark thoughts flicker one to the next as a depressive spiral rolls out of control. I’m cold, wet, and miserable, so why not top it off with utter despair? And there it is. The one image that haunts me, over and over. That woman, I don’t even know her name, screaming as I fail.
I failed. Why did I live, and she didn’t? What justice is there in the universe?
“Hey,” Allie says as I bump into her.
“Sorry,” I say, looking up and out of my own head.
We’re home. Wow, how long was I lost in my thoughts? We make our way inside. The water has risen but not much. We group up in the dining area, the only space big enough for all of us. The water is at my knees, but not above the tables and counters, so we all climb up on them.
“Now what?” Mick asks.
“We wait for the storm to ease