Subject:  TIMELESS FIRE - CHAPTER 52 |
Author:
Kitkat
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Date Posted: 19:04:44 02/10/05 Thu
CHAPTER 52
Finally, thinking she had traveled far enough to be safe, she stopped the winded horse and dismounted. They were deep in the woods—the Delom Hills rising sharply in the distance. She walked around for a few minutes, stretching her legs and allowing the horse to graze. She was about twenty feet away when she heard the sound of an approaching rider. Without waiting to see who approached, she ran headlong for her own mount, and was about to ride off, when the second rider came into view. It was Mikelle.
She had already spurred her horse, when she saw him slip from his mount to the ground. She stopped and turned, ready to run at the first sign of danger. He appeared to be unconscious, the left side of his tunic soaked in blood. She walked the horse in his direction. He didn’t move. Dismounting, she walked even closer. Still he didn’t respond. He wound looked deep. Kneeling down, she moved his clothing aside to examine the cut. The blood ran freely. If she didn’t stop it soon, he would die.
Tearing a piece from the bottom of her skirt, she pressed it against the injury. It helped, but she knew she would need to make a poultice, if he were going to survive. On the other hand, she could just leave. He would probably die, but she would be safe—at least from him. Her good sense told her to leave, but good conscious wouldn’t let her.
Night was approaching. The fighting had lasted most of the day and after that, she’d ridden quite a ways. In another hour or so, it would be dusk. She looked down at the unconscious man. She thought him handsome in repose, his face innocent and boyish. What had happened in his life to make this man so harsh—so arrogant?
She tethered her horse, and then walked to where his mount was grazing. She tied his horse beside hers, wondering what she might find to eat. They were too deep into the woods to find fruit trees, but she might find some berries or wild grapes. By the time she located the berries the light was dim. She gathered as many as she could carry in her skirt.
The woods looked different in the gloom of dusk. Shapes appeared which had not been there before. After several false starts, she realized that she was lost. Panic overwhelmed her. Without her horse, she was helpless. She thought of calling out, but knew it would be wasted effort. She thought she remembered the oat tree up ahead and moved toward it. Beyond it, she remembered crossing a small creek. Feeling she was heading in the right direction, she lost no time in heading back to her makeshift camp.
By the time she reached the camp, it was night. She could hear the horses neighing at her approach and spotted an oblong blog on the ground, she assumed to be the general. Careful not to spill her berries, she sank down beside him on the ground. He stirred.
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