So sorry for the delay! The past month has been H-E-double hockey sticks. Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed! You guys are the best. I'm so glad you liked my story. I must admit I was a little shocked (not to mention flattered). Something of mine making sense? Surly you jest. Sorry, no I'm not a fast typist, but I'll try to have *something* up soon from now on. Enough chat! More story.
Disclaimer: This world and most of the people belong to the illustrious Tamora Pierce. The stuff that doesn't make sense is mine. No suing.
"Dear Goddess, Christa, don't leave me!" Tears stung Evelyn's eyes as she struggled to rise.
The only answer was the crescendo of the footstep of her pursuers growing closer. Stunned as much by her abandonment as by her wound, Evelyn was tempted to just lie there and let the invaders get her. But something inside her would not let her give up. Ignoring the stabbing pain and the waves of nausea accompanying it, she rose to her feet and jogged the rest of the way into the forest, trying not to jar her shoulder.
She collapsed in the shelter of the underbrush, quietly catching her breath and listening anxiously for the raiders. Eventually satisfied that they were not going to follow her into the woods, she inspected her injury. She almost wanted to swoon when she saw the cruel black arrow still embedded in her shoulder, but she forced herself to examine it. The wound was not too deep; she could probably remove it without causing herself too much damage. Clenching her teeth, she carefully drew it out. Examining it, she satisfied herself that the arrow was not poisonous. Using her Gift, she reduced the bleeding to a trickle, but she hadn't had the training to do much more than that. I can cure colds, but not puncture wounds. Who'd have guessed I'd need to know how to heal an arrow wound? Evelyn knew she had to see a real healer.
She sat there for a little while huddled in a ball. Suddenly, unbidden, came the image of the man she had killed. She felt sick. She had to get away! Standing up, she took off, forcing her shaky legs into a run. She felt that if she could just run fast enough, she could escape the horror of her deed. She sprinted recklessly deeper into the forest, headless of the branches and vines that scratched and tore at her. She couldn't shake the images from her head: her father, Christa, the man she had killed. Her ragged breathing turned into sobs. The world began to swirl around her. Her shoulder was throbbing and bleeding again. The trees kept spinning faster and faster. She tripped on a root and fell hard to the ground. Panting, she lay there, slowly drifting into unconsciousness. She could not hear the voices coming closer…
A/N: I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed again. I should have the next chapter up later this week.