Blue Gentian: A 'Spies of Kwedregiol' novel

In The Dark

The hand was attached to a body, lying too still in the dark. Salya found she could breathe again, and she gulped in a large breath. It was a man, or a boy. The left side of his face and most of his chest was dark, the stuff pooling black beneath him in the moonlight.

She collapsed to her knees, sinking into the soft soil near the bank. His hand was streaked and the bottom of his shirt was torn off, threads trailing, strips of it holding a crooked branch to his left leg. She felt for his pulse, and the stuff was sticky, bright red on her fingers. Blood. She touched his neck. He moaned. His arms flailed, and he tried to push her aside. There was no strength in the push.

"You're safe," Salya said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He stopped shoving, and she could feel the pulse flutter beneath her fingers.

"I'm going for my grandmother," Salya said. "Don't die."

He moaned again.

She took off running across the field, feet thudding on the uneven, hard packed earth. She flew by the scrubby trees and the grasses whipped at her legs as she ran. The wind pulled her dress behind her. The bonfire was huge and red on the horizon. She had last seen Amma there, standing in front of the flickering flames and watching the dancers fly past.

Salya did not enter the ring of orange light. Amma was not there, none of the silhouettes around the fire had her thin frame and tight bun.

Salya ran again, into the darkness to the pricks of light that was the wagon circle. Her knees shook as she landed again and again on the hard ground, and then up the wooden steps of the wagon. She flung the door open.

Amma looked up from where she sat at the table and took a long look at Salya's bloody hands and dress. Without speaking, she reached up and pulled a full black bag out of the cupboard. She pulled a thick quilt from the top bunk and wrapped it across her shoulder. "Lead the way," she said.

Again they ran. Amma's heavy breathing and slight footsteps pattered behind Salya. The spot on the bank was so far that Salya was sure she couldn't find it again in the darkness and the man would be gone already. But he was easy to find. Now that she knew what to look for on the banks of the creek she found his bright shirt easily. He was tucked under the bushes, the sleeves almost glowing in the darkness.

Amma kneeled. She pulled a clean rag from the inside of the bag. "Dip this in the stream and come back," she said. "He's so bloody that I can't tell what's wound and what's boy."

The stream was still warm, carrying the heat of the day, absorbing it from the rocks it ran over. She thrust the cloth into the current and felt the water ease over her hand.

He didn't move or moan as Amma dabbed the wet rag on his skin.

"Don't make that face, Yaya," said Amma. "He's not dead yet, just passed out from blood loss. It's okay now. "

Salya felt her body shake beneath her.

"Will he live?"

Amma felt his chest and leg. She shook her head, then shrugged. "He's okay to move, I suppose. He's done a lot of damage to that leg by walking on it broken. We won't do any more by carrying him to the wagon. Just be careful."

"Should I go for someone?" said Salya.

"No, we're going to do it," said Amma. "I'll not disturb the party if I don't have to. Spread out the blanket."

Salya spread the quilt wide on the grass next to the man. Amma held his shin in place while they rolled him onto the blanket. He was tall, thin, and floppy but he had strong arms, Salya felt them beneath her palms as she pushed.