~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Obsidian skies.

Eyes wide and alert, I glanced back at the Recom I killed. We were right in the middle of the battle; anyone could come after us. "Come on, Sephora. Help me out here." 

"Neteyam," she sobs, "I'm shot." 

"I know. I know." I slide one arm under her back and shoulder area, and I lift up her legs with my other arm. With a grunt, I rise to my feet and carry her bridle-style. I sprint in the direction of the untouched woodland, keeping her as immobile as possible. I dodge the sky-people's machines and their metal weapon; I use the patterned motion Dad taught me to use when there could be bombs buried beneath me. 

Eventually, I burst into the smokey awning of trees and only stop running when the battle is in the distance and the sound of war is faded. I find a patch of lush palms that resemble a dome-like structure, with a canopy of leaves and bushes that double as walls. I crawl under it and lay Fe'ya down gently, and the light that gleams through the pale green leaves amplifies the blood on her side. 

She's already sweating. Her heart was beating rapidly, and her breathing was fast and short. Immediately, I rip the holster off her waist and remove all weapons from her body. Against her side, Fe'ya's feminine hands are trembling as she holds her wound tight. "It hurts," she grits out, "really badly." 

"I know it does." I take my cummerband off and slide it around her midsection, pulling it so it fits snugly around her frame. I couldn't use any material off the ground, or she could contract an infection. If she even lives. I pushed the thought away--she was only shot in the hip. 

But even I knew the arteries that ran through that area, and this was no different than being shot in the ribs or stomach. "Fe'ya, listen to me. You have to stay awake, no matter what." I press the intercom system around my neck, "Dad, Dad, come it." 

After a few staticky noises, Dad's voice translates through the scratchy device. "Neteyam?" he pants, "What's wrong, where are you?" 

"I ran back into the forest, Dad, the part that wasn't burned. Fe'ya's shot--she's really hurt, Dad, what do I do?" Pleading to him like this after I yelled at him was awkward, but it was unimportant now. 

I hear him curse over the line. "Listen to me, Neteyam--your gonna put as much pressure on as you can, and I'm gonna send Norm over. Can you guys wait?" 

I swallow thickly and nod. "Yes, I think so." I let go of the intercom button and hesitantly, press both of my hands down over the blood-soaked cummerband, using all the strength I have. Fe'ya cries out at the force, then attempts to shove my arms off her waist. "No, no, Fe'ya. Stop. I have to help you." I lay her arms back over her chest, "I'm sorry." 

"Neteyam, the Recom--he told me Trudy wasn't my mother, but he's wrong!" she chokes, "She is my mother, he's wrong." 

A sour feeling arose in my stomach. What could I tell her? If she knew, but didn't believe it, and I had found out, and didn't say anything, I would have to lie to her. I looked down at Sephora, in a puddle of her own blood, shaking, her face wrenched in pain and sadness. I deep, dark side of me knew she had little chance of survival. I couldn't tell her the truth, not here, not now, but if this was the last time I spoke to her, it would be a lie. 

I placed my hand on her cheek, "Sephora, I know. I know what happened. Trudy is your mother--but not by blood." 

Slowly, her eyes meet mine. "What?" She whispers. "You knew?" 

My thumb smudges the paint across her diamond-shaped face. "I only found out three days ago. I'm sorry." 

Her muscles go lax she dissolves into racking sobs; she mumbles words I don't catch. Her cries are breathy and airy, lacking the energy to keep them up. "I hate her, I hate her. She lied to me, all these years."