angled off, she could not see where it led. Even if she could get there, she might easily be dashed on jagged rock at the bottom. With two graceful leaps, the faol effortlessly glided to the top of the slope. She settled herself and waited.
Brie suddenly smiled recklessly. She dragged herself to the end of the ledge and slowly, excruciatingly, pulled herself into a standing position. Then she tried putting all her weight on the broken leg. She almost screamed out loud. Trembling, she gazed at the empty space between her ledge and the narrow one, trying not to look down to the valley below. Clenching her fists, she again put her weight on the injured leg and pushed off, jumping to the small ledge. She landed on her good leg, swayed a moment, teetering on the edge of consciousness, but she stayed on the outcrop, her breathing shallow, sweat thick on her skin. She opened her eyes. Fara was sitting unruffled, watching her from the top of the slope. She cocked her ears forward, then rose, as if to say, "Stop dawdling."
Thinking she would much rather stay where she was, Brie limped the few steps to the far edge of the rock. This jump would be shorter, but it still took all the courage Brie possessed to fling herself once more into the air.
She lay where she landed, and squinted at Fara, who had already begun loping easily down the incline.
The slope was too steep for Brie to walk down, so, with several muttered curses, she lifted her injured leg so that it rested on top of her good one. Then she pushed off, sliding on her backside down the slope. She quickly picked up momentum. Pain overwhelmed her as her shattered leg was jarred by the motion. Then she hit bottom, her leg collided with something, and she lost consciousness.
When she woke it was nighttime. She had no sense of where she was. Her body was sore and battered, and her leg throbbed. She could feel Fara's rough tongue on her face. It brought her into focus.
She was lying beside something large. At first she thought it was a boulder, but then the odor assailed her and she gagged. Goat.
She recoiled, pulling away from the still body. Pain from her leg shot through her and she gasped.
Hands shaking, Brie felt for her pack. With a great effort she shrugged it off her back and fumbled inside for a lasan stick. Letting out a groan, she struck the tip against rock. Light flared. The first thing Brie saw was the fire arrow. It was sticking straight out of the goat-man's gutted, blackened chest.
Relief washed through her. Then she thought, But now I have to take it out of the goat-man. She felt weak, weaker than she'd ever been.
She heard Fara burrowing in her pack, then watched as the faol used her teeth to drag out Brie's skin bag. "Thank you," Brie whispered, taking the water. As she drank she realized how hot she was and how thirsty. She felt as though she could drink the entire contents of the bag, but she did not.
Then she gritted her teeth and, closing her nostrils against the smell, reached over and took hold of the arrow lodged in the goat-man's chest. She gave a tug and it slid out, catching only a little. Brie took a deep breath and began pulling herself as far away from the corpse as she could manage. Finally, bathed in sweat, she lay still, holding the arrow.
Fara curled up by her shoulder and they both slept.
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When the sun rose, Brie woke and pulled herself into a sitting position. While Fara cleaned her fur, Brie gave herself a thorough examination. Miraculously, the makeshift splint had held and, except for cuts and scrapes, her leg at least did not look worse than before. And the bleeding had abated. She was lucky, but she could tell that the break was a bad one, and she was, weak from all the blood she'd lost. According to Crann's map she was far from any of Dungal's villages.
The first thing she must do, she decided, was to get as far away as she could from the evil dead thing that lay nearby. The smell still filled her nose, and the summer sun
Brie suddenly smiled recklessly. She dragged herself to the end of the ledge and slowly, excruciatingly, pulled herself into a standing position. Then she tried putting all her weight on the broken leg. She almost screamed out loud. Trembling, she gazed at the empty space between her ledge and the narrow one, trying not to look down to the valley below. Clenching her fists, she again put her weight on the injured leg and pushed off, jumping to the small ledge. She landed on her good leg, swayed a moment, teetering on the edge of consciousness, but she stayed on the outcrop, her breathing shallow, sweat thick on her skin. She opened her eyes. Fara was sitting unruffled, watching her from the top of the slope. She cocked her ears forward, then rose, as if to say, "Stop dawdling."
Thinking she would much rather stay where she was, Brie limped the few steps to the far edge of the rock. This jump would be shorter, but it still took all the courage Brie possessed to fling herself once more into the air.
She lay where she landed, and squinted at Fara, who had already begun loping easily down the incline.
The slope was too steep for Brie to walk down, so, with several muttered curses, she lifted her injured leg so that it rested on top of her good one. Then she pushed off, sliding on her backside down the slope. She quickly picked up momentum. Pain overwhelmed her as her shattered leg was jarred by the motion. Then she hit bottom, her leg collided with something, and she lost consciousness.
When she woke it was nighttime. She had no sense of where she was. Her body was sore and battered, and her leg throbbed. She could feel Fara's rough tongue on her face. It brought her into focus.
She was lying beside something large. At first she thought it was a boulder, but then the odor assailed her and she gagged. Goat.
She recoiled, pulling away from the still body. Pain from her leg shot through her and she gasped.
Hands shaking, Brie felt for her pack. With a great effort she shrugged it off her back and fumbled inside for a lasan stick. Letting out a groan, she struck the tip against rock. Light flared. The first thing Brie saw was the fire arrow. It was sticking straight out of the goat-man's gutted, blackened chest.
Relief washed through her. Then she thought, But now I have to take it out of the goat-man. She felt weak, weaker than she'd ever been.
She heard Fara burrowing in her pack, then watched as the faol used her teeth to drag out Brie's skin bag. "Thank you," Brie whispered, taking the water. As she drank she realized how hot she was and how thirsty. She felt as though she could drink the entire contents of the bag, but she did not.
Then she gritted her teeth and, closing her nostrils against the smell, reached over and took hold of the arrow lodged in the goat-man's chest. She gave a tug and it slid out, catching only a little. Brie took a deep breath and began pulling herself as far away from the corpse as she could manage. Finally, bathed in sweat, she lay still, holding the arrow.
Fara curled up by her shoulder and they both slept.
Â
When the sun rose, Brie woke and pulled herself into a sitting position. While Fara cleaned her fur, Brie gave herself a thorough examination. Miraculously, the makeshift splint had held and, except for cuts and scrapes, her leg at least did not look worse than before. And the bleeding had abated. She was lucky, but she could tell that the break was a bad one, and she was, weak from all the blood she'd lost. According to Crann's map she was far from any of Dungal's villages.
The first thing she must do, she decided, was to get as far away as she could from the evil dead thing that lay nearby. The smell still filled her nose, and the summer sun
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