Spears of Uu'kata

Chapter 31 - A Lone Figure

"Come," he said, continuing forward.

The trees cleared and tall, green grasses with thick seedpods stretched up and over a hill before him. The trail led right up it.

The sky was brilliant blue, not a cloud to be seen. It seemed profane for such tragedy to strike on such a beautiful day. Likely, it would be the last if beautiful days for some time.

He started toward the hill.

"By the blood of Dethen," one of the warriors accompanying them breathed.

Ahnekk looked up.

A lone figure crested the hill. Tattered, bloody, and limping but inexplicably alive.

With a desperate cry, Ahnekk raced up the hill, reaching for her. Her skin and lips were so pale, the red blood so bright.

She started down the hill at a slow limp, seemingly oblivious of the hunting party approaching her.

"Charlotte!" Ahnekk bellowed.

Looking up, she blinked blurrily at him and frowned.

"Oh, hi," she said in her human language. She held something in her arms, clutched tightly to her bloodied chest.

Ahnekk scooped her up and started off at a run back toward the camp.

"Run ahead! Get Gondrol, or any doctor ready! Go, now!" he yelled.

One of the lankier, younger hunters took off into the trees, quickly disappearing.

Ahnekk could feel something warm soaking through his shirt as he ran, doing his best not to jostle Charlotte too much, lest he do more damage to her.

He heard a small, strange noise and looked down to see a pair of brilliant yellow eyes looking up at him from her arms.

He gasped and flinched hard, nearly dropping her.

"What is it?" Hefka asked, coming up and looking into Ahnekk's arms.

"Storms! An ennelath cub!" he said, jerking back.

Ahnekk held still and gulped.

"I got a kitten," Charlotte breathed weakly.

The cub's stinger uncurled from between its shoulders and it was covered and tied off with a piece of leather.

"I... killed his... mother. Someone has to... care for him," she whispered weakly, hands stroking the cub's fur.

Ahnekk gulped and shook his head, gritting his teeth and continuing his run. He wasn't going to try to take the cub from her. She was dying, of that he had no doubt. She was too grievously injured. If holding onto a deadly cub brought his strange, vicious little human comfort, then she could have it. He would deal with it after she passed.

Storms, it hurt to think like that. He swallowed and it ached going down, his eyes burned. He thought of everything he'd been through with Charlotte. He remembered how terrified she'd been when he'd captured her. How he'd terrorized her in the river, how he'd chained her to a post, poisoned her in trying to extract information. Those things ate at him. Guilt twisted him up inside. He should have been better to her. She deserved so much better than him, than this. His entire shelen had seen it, why hadn't he? Now she was going to die and he would never get the chance to make it up to her.

It seemed to take forever to get to the river. Charlotte lost consciousness and went limp in his arms.

"Charlotte!" he said, terrified. "You have to stay awake! Come back!"

She didn't.

On the other side of the river, Gondrol waited with two other doctors, Vongii of the Nine Vipers and Kritteth of the Shadow Claws, along with their apprentices and a group of females who looked on with fearful eyes.