Ash and Cinder

28| Hand Bones

It's cold.

My limbs are locked in place, the damp forest floor chill seeps into my muscles from below. Broken twigs and the zippers on the coat press indents into my skin. That side of my body is asleep. If I stay here forever, it wouldn't be so bad. I could go to sleep and never wake up. The bugs could eat my flesh. Roots and grass could grow over my skeleton. I would be a nameless, faceless, pile of bones at the side of the road. Just out of sight for the rest of time. Surrounded by ghosts.

A twig snaps.

The ice melts from my joints. Sitting up, I try to will the forest to stop spinning. Bile rises in the back of my throat, stomach clenching. I press my hand to my belly like that will appease it while I squint at the trees.

Glasses.

They're on the ground, a little scratched and beaded with dew. I wipe them on my pant leg and slip them on my face. A bush sways in the not-so-distance. It could be a wild animal but I'm afraid it's a Redcoat. How far are they willing to go to hunt us down? These woods could be crawling with them.

"Trick."

Something touches my shoulder. Like a spark to my system. I grab it and crush it. The thing I now recognize as a hand crunches, there's an ugly, hollow pop, and Sky screams. He twists, smashing my neck hard with his free hand, temporarily robbing my ability to breathe. Black floods my vision and I'm forced to drop his hand. His next blow lands square against my chest, knocking me into a tree with a thump.

"Sky?" I croak, staring in disbelief at his pale, hunched form. What the hell is he doing here?

His hand is contorted, the bones are buckled and when he tries to straighten his fingers a pained, weak cry escapes him. Hearing that, watching his lips shake and the pain flash in his eyes, puts hot coals in my stomach.

Shit.

"Damn, Trick" he shudders.

"Sorry," I say, "I'm so sorry, Sky, I thought you were—"

The tree between us shatters. Wood shards and splinters spray everything in a ten-foot radius. They burn like streaks of fire when they burrow under my skin. A shard clips my glasses off, barely missing taking out my eyes. Sky flings curses. He's a smear among the smears of trees, but he looks too close to have escaped the shards. I shove the glasses on right, ignoring the sting and the fresh new cracks in the corner of a lens.

Sky is too close, bleeding and yanking on the ground.

"Run, bunnies, run," A chilling voice crows. Dieter, swaying between the slender tree trunks I rock to my feet, keeping low, tracking his movements.

Watch his arms, those are the only reliable way to gauge his actions.

"Sky, can you get up?" I whisper.

"I'm working on it," he hisses back, yanking harder on the thing on the ground. "King has me."

I spare a glance at the thing he's pulling on. It's his unbroken hand, encased to the wrist in rock. So King is here somewhere, too.

Dieter whistles off-key and unsteady. He wavers closer. His arms stay at his side, limp, marionette-like and moving on a different beat than the rest of him.

Keeping one eye on him, I creep closer to Sky.

"Hold still, I'm going to break you out."

"Wait, wait wait wait," his eyes go wide.

"What?"

"Can you do it without shattering my other hand? I kind of need it." Right, important detail. I hesitate, Sky grimaces. "Right, let's—"