Page 13 of Moonless

I lift my head. A fly settles on the blood dried along my leg, and I snap at it. My teeth close on air. Fine. Have it.

The river is still beside me, running the wrong direction for home.

I get up too quickly, and the gravel tilts beneath me. For a few breaths I stand wide-legged until it settles. My shoulder aches around the broken shaft, but the wound has closed enough to keep the blood in.

I should be warmer by now.

I shake water from my fur, brace through the pain, and start upstream. Walking will warm me. Once I find a crossing, I can work back toward the trail.

I make it past the fallen tree and through a stretch of reeds. Beyond them, the bank rises over bare roots, and I have to stop halfway up.

Enough. Keer needs to know where I am.

I let the damper go and reach for him.

There’s a faint touch where my brother should be, too thin to separate from the others. I try Axan and get less.

The river must have taken me too far.

I send the bank anyway, the roots beside my paws, my need for him to come. Then I wait with my nose pointed upstream.

Keer would answer if he could feel me clearly.

I start climbing again, leaving the bond open. My back legs still push, so I let them do the work, keeping the worst weight off my shoulder, and follow the water toward home.

Somewhere along the bank the wound opens again. I stop to lick what I can reach, and the broken wood scrapes my tongue, so I leave it alone. When I try to go on, my back feet slide out from under me.

I need food. I haven’t eaten since the cake, and I bled all the way to the river.

Mel can deal with the bolt when I get home. She’ll have clean cloth and something warm.

There’s a flat rock a little farther upstream. I reach it and lie with my good shoulder against the warm surface.

I open my eyes with my nose in the dirt beside it.

The warmth has gone. I push up onto my forelegs, but my hindquarters stay down, and I have to drag them closer to stand.

Get up.

The next patch of level ground isn’t far.

I don’t get there.

Water touches my paw, cold between the pads. I pull away from it, but my leg folds, and I slide sideways down the gravel.

The current lifts me off the bottom. Not again.

I kick toward the bank I just left. My nose breaks the surface, and I get air before the water turns me.

The rock is still above me, dark against the last strip of evening sky. I try to reach it, but my leg won’t pull.

It disappears around the bend while I’m still trying.

My hip strikes stone a few breaths later, and the next shove of water carries me onto gravel. I try to dig my feet in, but I can’t lift my head.

Stone presses hard beneath my cheek.

I cough, and water spills over my lips. My hair is caught across my mouth. I try to lift my head and only turn it.