Only a Little Superstitious
Chapter One
There really wasn't any way to know where or really even how she was going to land. If this portal worked like the others she'd had the occasion to jump or fall into, they'd end up wherever Killian had been thinking of when he lost his footing and fell. She'd just kept repeating the mantra in her head – Bring me to Killian – and when her body finally collided with the ground, it was every bit as unpleasant as she'd expected it to be. The earth here was strewn with rocks – a fact she'd learned the hard way as she'd landed face first, scraping her cheek and shoulder on a boulder that the rest of her head narrowly missed, although she wished she could say the same for the bush she'd landed on top of, colliding with several of its thorn laden branches which tore several small holes in her blouse and jeans. Thankfully, the leather of her jacket spared her from the worst leaving a deep scrape in the fabric that would have laid open the skin on her right side had she not been wearing the outer garment.
The sudden hard landing knocked the wind out of her and she realized later that she must have blacked out for a few moments when she suddenly awoke with a start and a single thought: Where was Killian? As she extricated herself from the jagged bush, she scanned the surrounding area looking for signs of her missing husband. She didn't immediately see him nearby, but thankfully, he must have spotted her first as she heard his voice calling out to her.
"Swan?" His voice sounded so distant, but with her ears still ringing with disorientation from the portal, she couldn't exactly be certain. "Are you alright?"
Alright? He was asking if she was alright? Only moments before the portal opened up in the middle of Main Street, she'd watched him take a dagger to the gut and he wanted to know if she was alright?
"I'm fine," she replied, pushing her protesting body up from the dirt as she wiped at her bloodied face with her sleeve.
"You don't look fine," he continued, his voice closer now as she realized he was walking slowly toward her, partially obscured by clumps of chaparral and some dangerous looking pointy leaved plants, some of which neared five feet tall. She could see that he was clutching tightly to his chest, his fingers already slick with blood from the stab wound she knew lay beneath. "You're bleeding."
"So are you," she reminded him, dumbfounded how he could still be so concerned that she had a few cuts and scratches when he was obviously in greater distress. "I've just got a few scratches and a little bump on the head. You're not that lucky," she stated as he reached her.
"I'll be fine," he insisted as she slid her arm around his waist, moving him toward a slab of nearby sandstone where she could get him to sit down. The slight waiver in his voice told her he was anything but fine.
"I don't think so. Sit down here and let me take a look at you," He didn't put up much fight, his body nearly collapsing onto the boulder which was an even better indicator that he was in a great deal of pain and doing a lousy job of concealing it.
"Is your magic working in this land?" he asked. It was an honest question, but she instantly doubted that she could give him the answer they both wanted to hear. She couldn't feel her magic – couldn't will it to surface. Whatever realm they'd landed in, it was one without magic and that meant she couldn't heal his wound.
"I don't think so," she responded, recognizing the flicker of fear that flashed in his eyes. "I can't feel it, but we'll manage… Do you have your flask on you?" He nodded, producing it from the inside pocket of his leather coat and proceeding to remove the stopper with his teeth and take a quick swig before she snatched it out of his hand. "Hey! I didn't mean drink it!" she scolded him. "We're going to need it to disinfect that wound."
"Just attempting to dull the discomfort somewhat," he confessed as he begrudgingly yanked his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and began to unfasten the buttons of his vest. Emma pushed his hand away knowing she could complete the task faster with two hands. "You do realize that I'm perfectly capable of unbuttoning my own garments…"
"Will you just relax a moment?" she glared, scowling at him as he attempted to reach for the flask she'd placed on the flat surface of the rock beside him to free up her hands. "Leave that alone…" He groaned with displeasure, but withdrew his hand, wincing as she peeled back the blood soaked fabric of his shirt to reveal the wound. "Sorry," she apologized, not wishing to cause him additional pain. The wound itself didn't look like much – just a narrow slit in his skin right below his rib cage, but it was bleeding profusely and there was no way to tell how deep it went or the exact path of the blade. "You don't happen to have a handkerchief or a scarf hiding in there anywhere by chance, do you?"
"Sorry, Love. 'Fraid not," he replied. "Didn't leave the house this morning expecting to be run through with a bloody dagger." Well, at least his sense of humor was still intact despite the injury.
"We've got to find something to help stop the bleeding. Need to keep pressure on it…"
"I've been trying to," he assured her, "but it's a tad difficult with only one hand…" She understood knowing that he'd likely landed as hard as she had so she was worried that there might be other injuries she couldn't even see, but right now, she had to think of something.
Since it was already tattered and torn from her entanglement with the barbed brush, Emma pulled the hem of her blouse free of the waistband of her own jeans and tore off the bottom section of the pale peach fabric leaving a strip of skin exposed at her midsection. Had he not been in so much discomfort, the sight of that glimpse of flesh would have been quite the turn on, but he could barely manage a pained smirk as he focused on how to put an end to the ache in his chest. He already suspected the severity of the injury having been run though enough times in his many years to have a decent grasp on his situation. It was a survivable wound, if they could find help rapidly, but the thought that they didn't even yet know what realm they'd landed in wasn't helping.
While he lamented the seriousness of their dilemma, she folded the strip of fabric into a makeshift pad and after retrieving the flask, soaked it with a generous dosing of rum then pressed it into his wound. She tried to ignore her own stabbing of guilt as he hissed and writhed from the sting of the alcohol on the tender, open wound.
"Sorry… Sorry…," she stammered, fearful of pressing too hard as she really didn't want to inflict more pain.
"I'm fine, Love… Just stings a bit…," he lied as the initial shock wore off leaving him with just a lingering burning sensation. "I'll be fine."
"Fine? You're a lousy liar… Keep holding this against the wound," she instructed. "I need to find us some shelter and try to figure out where we are. Those skies aren't looking too promising…"
"Aye," he replied in a hushed tone as his eyes drifted upward to the clouds. There was still blue sky directly above them but out toward the horizon, ominous dark grey clouds loomed. "There's definitely a storm brewing."
"That was my thought too," she concurred, digging into her pockets to retrieve two items – her cell phone and her department-issue handgun. "I'm going to go scout around a bit," she stated, placing the weapon next to him on the rock's surface. "I'll try not to be gone long, but if anything comes near you that's bigger than a jackrabbit, shoot it."
"And what about you?" he asked, still more concerned for her welfare than his own safety. "You don't have magic here…"
"I can manage. Remember, you're the one with the hole in his stomach. You need the protection more than I do. Besides, I can still run. You can't."
"Point taken. Just please be careful, Swan."
"I will," she promised, not really keen on leaving him here in alone but well aware that she could move faster without him. There had to be something in the near vicinity that could provide some shelter from the approaching storm and if they were lucky, provide them with some clues as to their present location. The landscape here was rugged and arid, evidenced by the sparse vegetation consisting mostly of dry scrub brush and plant life that was likely some form of cacti or maybe yucca? The panoramas were vaguely familiar, yet she couldn't quite place why. Had she been here before?
She tried to scope out a perimeter within a few hundred yards of where she'd left Killian, making sure to identify and remember landmarks so she would be able to find her way back. Her knee high heeled boots weren't the best footwear to be navigating the uneven, gravely terrain. What she wouldn't give for a decent pair of hiking boots and a huge bottle of water right now! The sun's position in the sky and her shadow on the ground had to be her guide as she had little else to use for direction. Without a compass, she could only assume that she was traveling southwest from Killian's location and if she was correct – slightly downhill.
She'd begun to circle back when she noticed that on the far side of a row of bushes similar to the one she'd landed in earlier there was a patch of well-worn dirt which stood out in stark contrast to the rocky earth on this side of the brush. She squeezed herself between the brambles to spy what appeared to be an intentionally cleared path and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn it was a hiking path worn through the wilderness. Perhaps this was some sort of roadway between villages in this realm she thought – until an unexpected object gave her the first clue to their whereabouts.
Approximately twenty feet from her was rectangular wooden post about 18 inches tall that had been driven into the ground and bore an engraved number on it – an 8. Emma scrambled over to the post hoping there might be more information on it besides the number and as she got closer, she realized that the number emblazoned on it was actually a decimal - .8 and below it were four almost imperceptible letters – USDF. Why was a wooden post in the middle of nowhere marked with a decimal – a decimal and a bunch of letters? She stared quizzically at it for a moment then it dawned on her – she had been correct in her theory that she'd been looking at a hiking trail and the post before her was a trail marker! Now – which direction?
She followed the trodden path a short distance, until she came to the next marker which was labeled .6. Counting down meant she was going in the direction of the trail head which held the promise of providing more information and perhaps a picnic area or something with a little cover. She wanted to push ahead and see where the trail led, but she'd already been away from her husband longer than she'd wanted to be. She'd go back for him and they'd head down to the trail head together – hopefully getting themselves one step closer to civilization.
"Killian?" she called out to him as she neared the clearing where she'd left him earlier, fairly certain that she'd returned to the correct spot, but still harboring a few doubts when she couldn't see him. "Killian? Can you hear me?" She'd been away for twenty, maybe thirty minutes – longer than she'd intended, but she should have known that he wouldn't stay put. She'd apparently mistakenly assumed that he would follow her instructions and stay in one place, but it was looking more and more like he'd wandered off in search of her – at least until she heard his faint reply.
"Emma?" His voice was noticeably weaker which instantly renewed her concern that she couldn't see him as her eyes scanned the clearing, recognizing the boulder he'd been seated on when she'd gone in search of shelter.
"Yeah – it's me. I'm back and I have a bit of an idea where we might be. I found a marked hiking trail nearby. If we can follow it back to the trailhead, it might have signage to tell us exactly where we are and maybe a few clues as to how we can get help," she nervously kept rambling on hoping her voice would draw him back to her, but her anxious mind was getting the best of her… "It's not far to the trail. I think we can make it, but I have to find where you've wandered off to first. I told you to stay put…"
"Over here…," he said a little louder this time and his voice seemed to be coming from the direction of the boulder where he'd been sitting earlier, but he wasn't atop it any longer. She could see smears of blood and his hopefully not empty flask, but not him. "And I didn't 'wander off' anywhere… Down here, Love…" he added as he heard her footsteps draw closer.
"Down where?" She started to ask then stopped as she saw his black denim clad leg poking out from behind the stained sandstone slab. Hurrying over, she found him seated on the dusty earth, leaning against the sturdy sandstone for support. In his hand, he still clutched the crimson soaked cloth she'd torn from her blouse, but it was no longer held against the wound as his arm lay across his thigh. Her pistol rested beside his right hip, the safety still in place. He no longer had the strength to hold his arm up and Emma knew there was no time to waste if they were going to make it down to the trail head. "Think you can walk?" she asked him rather bluntly as she stooped to retrieve her weapon and return it to its holster at the small of her back. With time of the essence, she needed to know, determined to carry him if she needed to. She wasn't leaving him behind this time.
"I think so," he replied, pushing his back into the boulder, using it for leverage to push himself to his feet while she took ahold of his left arm at the bend of his elbow, then wrapped his hooked arm around her own waist before slipping her right arm around his midsection. He wasn't steady on his feet, but he was standing.
"Lean on me," she insisted. "It's going to be about a mile over some uneven terrain." He nodded in understanding, reaching back for the glass flask which he tucked back into his jacket pocket.
"We may need this later," he grinned, getting an icy glare of skepticism from his wife in return. "Don't worry. I didn't partake of a single drop while you were gone."
"Come on. The clouds are getting thicker and the wind is picking up. We probably have less than an hour to find the trailhead and if we're lucky, someplace to hide from this storm…"