The woman gapes at us for a brief moment before turning around and yelling into the house. “Ariella! Come here right now, young lady!”
A second later Ariella emerges with an apple in hand, holding it inches from her mouth. I have a split second of panic before I see that she hasn't taken a bite yet.
The young mother smacks the apple to the floor. “Young pup, you know better than to eat a snack when you've just come inside from playing! Go wash your hands right now, and wash the apple as well.”
The girl hangs her head and stomps out of the room, hopefully to wash up. I let out a sigh of relief, and the mother shakes her head.
“Little pups are impossible!” She puts an arm around me and gives me a hug. “Thank you! She was supposed to be playing in the square with her friends, but she must have gotten it into her head to give you pretty ladies some flowers.”
“No problem at all, miss.” Cara offers the woman one of her dazzling smiles. “I recommend a thorough cleaning of your home though, as there's no telling what she's touched since she came in here.”
We leave again for the tailor’s, but not before Ariella’s mother loads us down with armfuls of goodies in thanks. She gives us wrapped packages of dried meats, cheeses, and breads, along with a plush wool blanket and a small bag of glass beads that she says she made herself. Cara thanks her for the bounty and takes my arm, guiding me back towards the main road. I'm too stunned by the woman’s generosity to speak.
“That was pretty amazing.”
The awe in Cara’s voice surprises me. “It wasn’t a big deal. You would have thought of it as well. I just was a little faster.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest. You saved that girl from one hell of a bad trip, and probably a few days with the healers.”
I want to downplay her heroic fantasy of my supposed rescue, but instead I stay quiet.
Our trip to the clothier goes more smoothly than the tavern did, but it takes all I have not to run screaming when the tailor starts measuring me and fitting the clothes. Hands everywhere, poking and prodding and positioning and pinning. She only has a few outfits in my size available, but while I don a black tunic and a too-long skirt in the back room, I overhear Cara instructing her to make several more and have them delivered to the palace. Tucking the front hem of the skirt in my belt to prevent tripping, I cringe. I don’t want all this charity, but Cara’s too intimidating for me. I can’t seem to work up the nerve to ask her to stop.
When we finish, I follow Cara out of the shop. We head to the stables outside of the temple, and with a stable hand’s help we load the day’s treasure onto a horse-drawn cart. I notice the tangy scent of harsh cleaner, along with the smell of damp wood. It’s then that I realize that this is the same cart that brought the wounded back from the site of the panther attack.
They scrubbed off the blood.
My blood.
A strange tightness forms in my chest, crushing the air out of my lungs. I try to gasp, to inhale, but my diaphragm is frozen. Myeverythingis frozen! Why can’t I move?
“Sable?” Cara’s voice comes from a deep well, muffled and distorted. “Sable, what’s wrong?”
That cart … I almost died on that cart …
“Sable?”
After an eternity, my muscles finally work again, but only in reverse. I back away from the cart with stiff, jerky movements, stumbling into Cara. She grabs my shoulders and shakes them, but it appears my mouth still can’t move other than to gape in fear.
The pain … the thick smell of blood and guts … the grunts and moans of injured wolves …
I have to get away from here.
I have to run.
I don’t realize that my legs have responded to my silent plea until I’m several blocks away. I dodge townspeople and animals in my flight path, desperate to run away from the painful memories on that cart.
I run blindly, until my thighs ache and my lungs burn. I run until my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest.
If it weren’t for the tree root tripping me, I don’t know if I would ever have stopped.
My forehead smacks against a rock when I fall, adding a dizzying feeling to my disorientation. I try to get back up, but a wave of vertigo parks me right where I am. My hands clench into fists in the dirt, and I tremble. Tears fill my vision, blurring everything.
I lose track of everything but the fuzzy leaves in front of me until a gentle hand touches my shoulder. I don’t quite understand; I thought I was alone.
“Are you okay? Your head is bleeding!”
Cara. Cara followed me. Why did she follow me?
