Thornwyn Mossbrook's Arc

Chapter 26 of 38

The hoofbeats were gone. The clearing held only the crackle of the small fire she had set and the wet sound of the deer's breathing. Thornwyn kept her hand in the fur at his neck. Blood soaked through her fingers and cooled on the back of her hand. She could not stand. She could not cast. If she did nothing, he would die against her hip before the sun moved a hand's width. She dragged herself sideways until she could see the split along his shoulder. It was long and deep. The old stitching in his flank had torn open too, and dark blood pulsed with each breath. She had no staff. She had no needle. She had a knife, moss from her own thigh, and the strip of cloth she had tied around her belt. "Stay," she said. His ear twitched. His eye stayed on her. She cut a handful of green moss from the base of a root and pressed it into the shoulder split. She held it there with her palm and counted. When the bleeding slowed, she cut the belt strip in two and tied one length around the shoulder, under his foreleg, as tight as her hands could pull. She used the other on the torn flank. The knots were bad. They would hold or they would not. She had no words to bind him. The magic sat behind a wall she could not reach. She put her mouth close to his ear anyway and spoke the ones she remembered. Not to cast. To ask. "Stay with me. I have not thanked you." His breathing did not ease. It did not worsen. She lay against his flank and listened. Something moved in the trees to the west. Thornwyn twisted the knife up. The chimera stepped into the clearing, antlers low, black mane matted with sweat. It had come back on its own. Its saddle was empty. The staff was gone with it, west, with the girl. The chimera lowered its head to the deer and breathed against his muzzle. The deer's eye closed, then opened. Thornwyn understood. The girl had sent it. The girl was alive, and had let the mount go, and it had come to her. "Down," she said. The chimera folded its legs. Thornwyn dragged herself up its shoulder with both hands and pulled the deer's forelegs across the saddle in front of her. He weighed more than she could lift. She got him halfway. The chimera rose slowly, holding the weight, and the deer's head rested against her chest. His breath came against her collarbone. Shallow. Still there. "West," she said. The chimera walked. Thornwyn held the deer upright with both arms and the last of her strength, and rode after the girl who carried her staff.