Dark One Rising(44)

She spotted a sandy expanse of shoreline and fought to get close enough to reach it. She kicked her feet and moved her arms, every move hurting her aching limbs. She inched closer until she was able to grab a hold of a branch that was broken on a small tree hanging over the water. She snagged it with her left hand, the rest of her body moving with the water downstream. She held on tight trying to pull her legs back enough to move herself to the edge of the water. She grabbed the branch with her other hand now and heaved. She swung around and got one foot on the sandy berm, then dragged the rest of her body, willing it to do the same. She had both feet on the sand, and, with one hand still holding the branch, she swung as hard as she could and flopped her numb body onto the sandy shore. When she was sure she was secure, she let go of the branch, lying back on the sand panting, her heart racing, head throbbing with every beat.

She reached a shaky hand to her head and touched the tender spot, her hand coming away with blood which ran down her fingers. She tried to sit up, but she reeled and dry heaved. She had to move into the woods and keep hidden. She didn’t know what happened to the men, but if they were still looking for her, staying out in the open would not be a good idea. She crawled into the brush, just enough to keep her hidden from the other side of the bank, or from the cliff, and lay back down to stop her head from spinning. She breathed in and out and did her best to keep from shaking. She was cold, and her head needed attention. If she bled too much she would surely pass out from loss of it. She needed to get somewhere and deal with her head, get fresh supplies and sleep.

She rose slowly to her feet and trudged into the woods, her body shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. She felt another trail of blood run down her head and drip into her eyes. She had to try and stanch the bleeding somehow. She tried to tear a strip of fabric from her shirt, but, because it was wet, it was too springy to tear. She realized then that her sword was still strapped under her horse, and her knife had been in her pack, which was now lost to the river.

“Damn it!”

She had been too busy trying to get away, she never went back for the sword. She had to go back for it. She would, but one thing at a time; the bleeding wound was the first priority. She would have to improvise. She hoped the men didn’t bother with her horse and leave her to walk across the leagues of desert sands on foot.

She looked around for a rock. She found a medium sized one and leaned over and picked it up. When she rose again, she reeled and fell over. She sat up and hit the rock on another larger one. The rock broke in half, leaving a jagged edge on it. She took off her shirt and laid it out on the large rock, using the rough edge of the other one to saw away at the material. It took a long time to get a long enough piece, but eventually she had a strip long enough to tie around her head to keep the bleeding contained. She hoped it would clot after a bit, long enough to at least get somewhere safer to give it a good cleaning and a proper dressing. She tied it around her head, tight so it wouldn’t come loose, then put what was left of her shirt back on, shivering as she did so. She plodded along through the woods, the feeling starting to come into her limbs again, and now they ached. She felt as if she had been beaten to a pulp, every inch of her was sore, and, probably in a day, would be one big bruise. She continued on, wishing she hadn’t left her horse behind, or her sword. Wishing she had her bag with clean clothes at least. Wishing for a lot of things that might never again be was a waste of energy. She was out here alone, bleeding and hungry, because her father chose Fallon over his only daughter. She started to cry. She knew it was the pain and cold and the fact that she was so very tired, but it maddened her to be doing so anyway. She slapped the tears away. She was not weak, but she was human. She looked up to the sky, her cheeks wet, although with her hair still dripping, she couldn’t be sure if the wetness on her face was tears or river water. The sun was three quarters of the way across the sky now, making it late afternoon. Had she really been gone from Garreth’s that long? She shivered again. Even though the skies had cleared for the time being and the sun was out, it was still cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them, trying to warm herself. She came to a trail in the woods, a definite cleared away path that wound through the trees. She hoped that it led to a town, or a village, or even a house. She was thirsty, too. She cursed herself for not drinking some water from the river before she headed out. She had had so much water get into her lungs that drinking was not on the agenda at the time. Now she felt parched all of a sudden. She would’ve squeezed some water out of her shirt if it wasn’t filthy, so, doing her best to make saliva in her mouth to at least wet it, she continued on.