She nearly stumbled. That sounded so much like Mattox, but it couldn’t be. If itwashim, that would mean…
She remembered hearing her name being shouted when that windstorm sucked up her tent with her inside. She’d cried out to him, and heard him respond. Or thought she had. He never called out again.
She hurried as fast as she could, despite her damaged wrist and a multitude of bruises. The sun flashed off something again, and she aimed for it. The next time she caught the flash, she honed in, keeping the glare in sight.
She got within a dozen yards of it when she identified it as a shield, oval in shape, with an elk painted on the front. The rest of the shield was highly polished, causing the sunlight to mirror off of it. It leaned against a portion of a roof, which rocked precariously on top of a large section of bushes.
Caralas stared dejectedly at it. False alarm. When the bush moved, it caused the roof to move, and that’s what made the shield move. She glanced up at the sun. It was going to be a damn hot day. “I wonder how heavy that thing is. If it’s not too bulky, I might be able to use it to block the worst of the sun, and keep from frying to death.”
Walking up to it, she reached for the shield, when something behind it moved. She leaped back and was about to run, when something groaned. She peered closer, and realized someone was lying under the roof. Dropping to her knees, she pushed aside the shield. A pair of glowing red eyes stared back at her.
“Mattox?”
“Caralas?” he croaked. He closed his eyes and turned his face away. “I’m imagining you.”
“Mattox, how…” Scooting up to him, she stared closer. “Oh, dear God, you’re covered in blood! Where are you injured?”
He turned his head to face her again. If she was reading his expression correctly, he wasn’t sure she was real. It was hard to tell with all the bloody scratches and welts.
“No. You’re not real.” He closed his eyes again.
She started to reach out to him, then remembered what her father had once told her. “Never grab an unconscious soldier. Their first instinct will be to protect themselves.”
“Mattox? Mattox, it’s me. Caralas. You’re not imagining me. Look, I’m going to touch your arm, all right? I’m going to touch your arm.” She placed her hand on his wrist, giving it a squeeze. “Mattox, please answer me.”
Her touch seemed to do the trick. When he looked at her again, he lifted the arm she was squeezing. “Caralas?”
“Yes! Yes, it’s me!” She almost cried with relief. Instead, she sniff and tried to calm herself. “How bad are you hurt?”
“What?” He appeared genuinely confused.
“Listen to me. You’re injured.”
“Where?”
“Where? You don’t know?”
“Hurt…everywhere. My legs… I can’t feel them.”
He was lying on his back, but at an angle. There were no wounds she could see along the front. She grabbed his weapons belt. “I’m going to roll you onto your stomach, all right? I’m going to roll you over to check your back.”
He grunted softly in reply, and she caught him gritting his teeth, bracing himself for what was to follow.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled on him, grabbing his rear with her good hand and tugging on him until he was mostly lying face down. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out once he was turned over.
“Oh, sweet God! Matt! You have an axe head embedded in the back of your leg!”
“No wonder I can’t…can’t feel my l-legs.” It almost sounded flippant. Regardless, hearing it made her smile. “I’m lucky…it didn’t hit the b-back…of my head. Can you g-get it…out?” he gasped.
“I’m afraid to. What if it’s severed an artery, and if I pull it out, you’ll bleed to death?”
“I can’t…feel my legs. I can’t walk. I can’t reach it, or I’d d-do it myself. Please…take it out. I can’t heal…until you do.”
“You have rapid healing abilities like regular Mutah?”
He actually chuckled. “She’s seen my eyes and wonders if I have Mutah ab-abilities.”
“Okay. Okay. I believe you. Hold on.” It took her some effort, but she managed to remove her weapons belt and pulled off her tunic. Next she slipped her knife’s sheath off the belt. “All right. Try to hold still.”
