“Come on, there’s got to be a river or lake around here eventually.”
I know she isn’t going to respond, but I continue to talk to her regardless. Just because she isn’t awake doesn’t mean her subconscious isn’t absorbing the words. For all I know, she’s locked in a horrific dream, and hearing a familiar voice will be enough to keep the worst at bay.
Hopefully I can coax her awake before long, though ideally I’ll find a way to patch her up a bit more first. She’s going to hurt like hell when she comes to, and as soon as I realize that her unconsciousness is a blessing, I shut my mouth. Not wanting to be alone is a selfish reason to try and convince her to wake up right now.
Are we near Elorie’s kingdom, or a different section of the light court? Are there people combing the forests looking for us? How am I supposed to keep us alive? We have no food or supplies and we’re missing the other two.
Fuck my complaints about being a sidekick; I don’t want the burden of being a main character. Atlas needs to come back so it can be his fault if we all get slaughtered.
The forest is unnaturally tranquil, not so much as a bird chirping to keep me company. Leaves rustling on the breeze do little to ease my nerves, instead making my skin crawl and look over my shoulder frequently, which just pulls at my abused flesh. Though, it’s far easier to hear the running water of the river long before I see it, and by the time I’m close to the bank, I’m pretty sure I’m going to collapse.
I need a burger and a solid night’s sleep. I’ll even settle for a nap at this point, but I don’t think my body can take any more abuse in its current condition.
Once we’re at the edge of the tree line, I gently lay her on the grass before taking my jeans off so that I’ll have something dry to change into after rinsing the blood from our skin. My shirt’s as good as useless at this point, but if I get it clean enough, I can rip off some strips to try and bandage some of her wounds. They might not be actively bleeding, but they’ll be less likely to become infected and heal better if I can band the flesh back together. At least, in theory.
Cambria’s clothes are such a bloodied mess that I just leave her fully dressed. Picking her back up despite my protesting muscles, I wade into the water. Out from under the canopy of leaves, it’s easier to get a lay of the land. The forest is its own world, seemingly locked away from the petty problems of the fae. Just the animals and peace; though after facing the panther, I’m not sad that they’re hiding. If trudging noisily through their home is enough to scare off the creatures, it’s a good sign there isn’t anything dangerous lurking around besides the fae.
I may not have seen much of this world, but that waterfall made a lasting impression. We’re several miles past where we climbed out last time, right on the fringe of where Elorie’s kingdom borders the next, but still; far too close for comfort.
“Of fucking course.”
Reclining back against the bank to stay as small as possible, it’s far easier to support Cambria in the water. It’s a gentle current, and I’m able to use one arm to hold her afloat, my free hand awkwardly rinsing out her hair and clothes.
What I wouldn’t give for some soap right now. Or any basic supplies, really. But all I have are the tattered clothes on my back, so that’s just going to have to be enough.
Climbing out is far worse, not just from the change in pressure and soaked clothes, but it’s incredibly difficult to toss her out onto the bank while remaining careful of her injuries. By the time I’m sitting beside her prone form, my chest is heaving with panting breaths. I give us a few minutes to air dry, or at least, that’s the excuse I’m telling myself.
“Alright, no fire; wouldn’t want a smoke signal to our location. Harder to find the others, but it won’t matter if they just find our dead bodies. So chaffing it is, but we should get out of sight first.”
Groaning, I get to my feet, hefting up my sopping wet damsel in distress. “Don’t feel important,” I cynically mutter, chastising myself. “Second fiddle that has to carry the bags. Well great fucking job me, because we have no bags.”
I sigh, looking down at my jeans that feel a million miles away. When I try to crouch down to pick them up, my knees give out and I fall on my ass. Breathing heavily, I lean against the tree trunk and hiss, only allowing myself a brief reprieve. If I were to go closing my eyes now, I wouldn’t get back up. No, I’ve got to get away from the edge of the woods, deeper into the forest before I let myself collapse for good.
“This. Sucks.”
Struggling to my feet, I toss my jeans over my shoulder before scooping Cambria back up. Her head lolls and her arm hangs limp, and just that is enough to stop my pity party in its tracks. It’s a miracle that we’re even alive, and I need to remember that. She endured far worse torture than I did, so I can suck it the fuck up and take care of us until she wakes up.
Each step is a sheer force of will at this point, but I keep up an internal mantra of,just one more step. Just one.Can’t let my guard down until we find a safer place to pass out.
Time has little meaning, so I’m not sure how long I trudge through the woods with all of the finesse of a newborn deer, but when a small cave comes into view, I practically weep. The cliff face is about a hundred or so feet high, more uneven terrain than an actual mountain.
“If there’s a damn fae-bear in there, I’m just going to have to let it eat us. Sound fair?” I ask her, not waiting for a response. “I thought so too. Better a bear than your fake family.”
Releasing a long, slow breath while I gather the vestiges of my will power, I step inside, hoping for a swift death.
***
“Now you’re just beingdramatic.”
She doesn’t budge, not that that’s anything new. We’ve been out here for about four days, and she still hasn’t woken up. I’m only guessing, because I’m not sure how long I actually slept that first night. It could have been a night or two for all I know, but eventually the gnawing in my stomach forced me awake. Still sore as hell, but it’s more manageable at least.
I drop the berries I brought back on the makeshift plate, which really isn’t anything more than a pile of leaves. Every time I go out I check another direction, searching for anything identifiable enough to risk eating. The mushrooms I avoid like the plague; either I’d end up poisoned, on a bad trip, or knowing this place, teleported right into the Queen’s dungeon.
Sitting beside her head, I gently rearrange Cambria so that she’s using my thigh as a pillow and pry her bottom lip open. One at a time, I pinch the small, multicolored berries above her lips. The juice trickles into her mouth, offering at least a little bit of sustenance to keep her alive. It’s not much, but until she wakes up, I can’t risk carrying her and trekking across the country.
I only have two bullets left, and I wouldn’t have a hope of hitting anybody while juggling her as well. But her color is starting to look better; if you ignore all of the bruises, burns, and scabs. She mentioned her wings regenerating several times as a kid, so I have to hope that means she’ll wake up soon, and when she does, the new scars won’t be permanent. Lord knows she has enough already.
Now that she’s completely drained and unconscious rather than asleep, that perpetual glamour she’s kept in place to hide her back from us has fallen away, revealing a multitude of upraised scars crisscrossing over her body in more places than just her back like she claimed. She’s tried so hard to hide the evidence of her abuse, whether it’s from embarrassment, or to save us from the pain of facing the aftermath. She’s too good for this world, and has endured far more than most people could stand before going mad.
