I climb into a shallow wash that’s been formed by rainwater running down the hill. Once inside, I decide it’s deep enough that the Murkovin won’t see me from where I hope they go. I slide on my stomach to the very top of the hill and check to make sure the creatures are still in the same place. Finding that they haven’t moved, I scoot a few feet down from the crest and sit upright.
One after the other, I rapid-fire the small stones at the boulder that I left the spear behind. Loud, clacking sounds ring out when each rock hits its mark. As soon as the last one leaves my hand, I flatten my body inside the narrow wash.
I inch my way up to the top of the hill again. Through a crack between two rocks on the crest, I watch the shirtless Murkovin scurry to the top of the hill. He locks his eyes on the tip of the spear that I left behind the boulder and then waves an arm for the others to join him.
The two Murkovin climb the hill to where the shirtless one stands. Spreading out a few feet from each other, they step down the slope towards the spear. When they’re halfway to the bottom, I slither over the top of the hill to the other side. I rise to a crouch and quietly but hastily make my way down the slope. As I near the bottom of the hill, I glance back at the top. The Murkovin haven’t reappeared and should still be on the other side looking for someone who isn’t there.
I dash across the small flat space to the tree. After stopping with my back to the front of the transport, I grab one of the handles with my empty hand. With my other hand, I clamp the spear to the second transport handle. Once I’m sure I can keep everything in my grip, I take off running. Never once looking back, I scorch into the light.
I weave through a short valley and then bank to the south. Staying away from high ground, I angle towards the west. I look over my shoulders several times but don’t see anyone behind me. When I reach the end of the long canyon I escaped through with Tela, I cross to the other side.
In case I’m seen, I don’t want to stop anywhere near the cavern that Tela is hidden in. I weave through the hills until I’m about two hundred miles southwest of the cave. I coast to a stop in front of a deep wash carved in the side of an enormous hill. I drag the transport inside the rocky walls to conceal it as best I can.
Kneeling between the handles, I fill the empty canisters and flasks from the release valve at the front of the transport. When the last one is full, I consider drinking some for myself. After a brief internal debate, I decide not to have any wild sap until it’s absolutely necessary.
I speed back to the gully where I left Tela and come out of my blend roughly half a mile from the entrance to the cavern. While jogging the rest of the way, I glance around for Murkovin. Even though I want to get back to Tela as fast I can, I stop near the pile of boulders and wait a full minute to see if anyone else appears. Once I decide that I’m safely alone, I squeeze through the opening in the rocks and hurry through the tunnel to the cave.
“Light,” I call out when I enter.
As purple shimmers across the walls of the cavern, I drop my spear to the ground and fall on my knees beside Tela. Holding my breath, I rest my ear on her chest to listen for a heartbeat. I slowly exhale with relief when I hear a weak but steady thump.
Using an entire canister of sap, I rub the liquid on her legs, arms, and shoulders. The swelling around her broken ankle has gone down a little and her other leg hasn’t bled anymore. The sap I already used on her seems to be having the miraculous healing effect that it should.
I rub more on the back of her neck and spread tiny globs over the insides of her lips. After rubbing my sap-soaked fingertips under her tongue, I try to figure out a way to use the spear to open a small hole in her body and inject sap into her bloodstream. When a faint moan vibrates from Tela’s throat, I abandon that idea.
“Tela,” I say. “Can you open your eyes?”
“Chase,” she murmurs.
“You need to drink sap.”
Her eyes open into tiny amber slits. I hold the canister to her lips and drizzle about a teaspoon into her mouth.
“Swallow,” I say. “You have to get it down.”
She clenches her jaw and strains her neck muscles while struggling to get down one gulp. As it goes down her throat, she trembles from the pain.
“Your neck is broken,” I say. “Don’t try to talk. If you think you can swallow another sip, blink twice.”
Her eyelids slowly close, open again, and then close once more. When they re-open, I press the steel to her lower lip. Barely tilting the canister up, I dribble a little more sap onto her tongue. She gags trying to swallow it, so I lift the back of her head two inches off the ground. Her body convulses from the movement and she squeezes her eyes shut, but she manages to swallow the sap. I lower her head to the pillow again.
“I think that’s enough for now,” I say. “Get a little strength back first. We’ll try again later.”
With her eyelids half
