Page 61 of Claim the Light
“Keep back!” I cry, holding out my left hand in an attempt to ward off the creature as I drop to Micah’s side.
Urgently, I check his chest and hand while trying not to take my eyes off the stag.
Micah has remained partially crouched, one knee to the ground, the other leg bent awkwardly. A burn mark extends across his chest from his left shoulder to the upper right of his ribcage, where the stag’s tine dragged across his skin.
The palm of his left hand is badly charred, the scales burned, and I shudder at the damage.
Wrapping my arm around his waist, desperate to draw him upright, I heave with all my might.
Fuck, he’s heavy.
“Micah, you have to help me.” My speech is low, hushed, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond.
His head is lowered and I’m intensely concerned that he might have passed out in the last few seconds.
I’m relieved when he groans. “That beast really doesn’t like me.”
The air shifts around me with every sway of the stag’s head. It hasn’t taken its eyes off Micah and continues to paw the ground.
And yet, when I snarl at it, “Back off!” it jolts and complies. If only for another step.
What the hell is going on with this animal?
Why attack Micah and not me?
Desperately, I seek a way out of this situation. Wrapping my arm around Micah’s waist, I ask him, “Can you walk?”
He gives another groan that I take as ayes.
“I’m getting you out of here.” With my hand still held out toward the stag, I move cautiously backward, supporting Micah as he comes with me.
It’s awkward and graceless, but we make it ten paces like that before we near the edge of the clearing.
The stag doesn’t stop pawing the undergrowth, continuing to toss his head, snorting sharply as he watches us go.
I take a big risk when I turn away from him to check that our path is clear.
A single deer stands in our way.
Its head is down like the others, its antlers held to the front and low to the ground. It has a dark-green blaze across its forehead, which is different to the other creatures.
It doesn’t back off or budge as we approach. But it doesn’t attack me, either.
It’s standing in the opening to the path I need to take—the nearest gap in the trees that’s wide enough to accommodate both Micah and me walking side by side.
Now that Micah’s taking some of his own weight, I can reach out toward the deer, even if it’s a big risk. I wrap my hand carefully around one of its antlers and give it a gentle push to the side. “Out of the way, please.”
The creature steps aside, moving in the direction I push, keeping its head down.
A clear space finally opens up in front of us and I don’t take it for granted.
As fast as I can, I plow through the opening and into the forest beyond, taking regular glances backward. I’ve made it another ten paces before the deer all raise their heads, their antlers held high. The female with the blaze across her forehead moves toward me and tosses her head, but that’s all before she calms again.
Then, within seconds, they all step backward. Their bodies camouflage seamlessly into the foliage until I can’t make out a single one of them anymore.
They may as well not exist. Not even the new mother, who must have stood up and taken her babies with her.
We don’t stop walking. Micah’s footsteps are labored, his weight on me heavier and heavier as I trudge back to the lake. Once there, I help Micah to sit down on the grass, praying that it’s safer here by the water.
