Chapter Fifteen

Before I could breathe, the deadwood had snapped and my feet were cradled by vast, empty air.

The cart tipped, Birdy protesting loudly, and we tumbled downward, my legs crashing onto the mountainside and forcing me into a roll down the ravine. The world blurred and spun so fast my limbs couldn't keep up; sounds so explosive and painful shot at me from all angles and every inch of my body screamed with the impact of the rocks and the bushes and the sticks against my body over and over and over.

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, it all ended with a bolt like lightning to my shoulder, shooting jolts of pain throughout the rest of my body and causing black spots to splatter my vision. I must have hit a tree.

And then the crashing continued—the shattering of wood and the crunching of leaves and the yells from everyone else—until they stopped as well, farther down the ravine.

I tried to move but was stopped by the pain that returned to my shoulder and I curled in on myself. It was definitely bruised—probably pretty badly. The stinging on the rest of my body continued even as I trudged up to a standing position, surveying the area through the lingering spots in my vision. The parts of my skin that I could see were covered in dirt and blood and my clothes were even worse off, ripped and torn in multiple places like tattered rags hanging from a scarecrow.

The road from which we fell was now close to a hundred feet up the mountain and nearly out of sight. A trail of wreckage strung down the rockslide where we'd tumbled and it branched off to where I was standing. Going farther, a few pieces of cracked wood scattered the mountainside as the path led down to the broken cart, which was almost at the bottom of the ravine.

I staggered down the decline toward the others, my body protesting but my mind driving me onward through the spiking, paralyzing pain. More than once I stumbled to my knees only to roll back up and keep running again until I saw every crack and splinter of the shattered cart and its surroundings, covered in dirt and leaves and debris. The cart had taken a lot of damage. Birdy's reins had been cut, I assumed by Evyne, and the horse was nowhere to be found.

Someone sucked in a breath suddenly and I moved to the back of the cart to see Atlas curled up against the tipped vehicle. He looked so tense... I inched forward and almost instantly noticed his arm, stuck under the side of the wagon. He gripped it with his other hand and arched his body around it, his face pinched and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He didn't look up at me.

"Atlas." I crouched down and nearly touched him, but pulled away before I could meet his skin. My voice cracked. "Can you hear me?"

He nodded shortly, further tensing at the movement, and I launched to my feet, understanding what I needed to of the situation. He was definitely hurt, much more than myself. I couldn't let my paranoid mind take over my thoughts. I had to do something to help.

"Evyne!" I called, running from the fallen cart into the surrounding forest. "Lefeli!"

I skidded to a stop when I came upon both Evyne and Lefeli rolled in a pile over each other, both clearly unconscious but otherwise unharmed. I swore so loud I thought it could work as a call to the nearest town thirty miles away, then I continued the action in an undertone as I raced back to Atlas and circled the cart in a panicked fury. I racked my brain for any possible solution, every dead end in my mind sending me further into despair. Think... think...

After attempting too many times to move the cart off Atlas with my bare hands, I slipped and fell on a rock, my elbow landing hard before skidding off. The spikes of pain that followed were instantly paled by the idea that struck me in that moment.

I rolled the large rock over near Atlas, who managed to spare me a concerned, exasperated look before I snapped a plank of wood from the cart. I placed it on top of the rock and shoved one end deep under the side in one burst of strength. A simple lever. How had I not thought of it earlier?

After letting out a deep breath, I found another rock, this one a little bulkier than the first, and rolled it over to the lever with more than a little bit of effort. It went up on the wood of the lever easier than I'd expected, then I held my breath as the cart slowly lifted with the contraption. Slowly, slowly...

Atlas gasped, clenching his teeth, and I quickly pulled him away from the remnants of the cart as the lever snapped and sent it all smashing back against the ground. My mind raced as I sat next to Atlas in the dirt, my heart thudding in heavy beats against my chest, my lungs refusing to allow me proper breath.

I put my hand to my chest, letting out a large puff of breath, then I looked up and down Atlas' arm, guilt biting at the back of my mind at the large purple blotch appearing below his elbow where it had been under the cart. What could I have done to prevent this? His fingers lay limp, but he had managed to relax his posture a little. Still, when I looked at his face, I didn't expect the smile playing across his lips. His eyes slightly squinted as if he were resisting a grimace, but he met my gaze and nodded his appreciation. There was something about him that was so foreign to me. Maybe I would never understand.

A short screech pierced the woods as Lefeli shot up to a sitting position from her place on top of Evyne. She glanced around frantically, her gaze falling inevitably upon us, and even from the distance I saw her mouth open in surprise. I returned my focus to Atlas, biting my lip.

"Where does it hurt most?" I asked, figuring I'd want to discover any other injuries before I asked about his arm.

He gave me an overly sarcastic look. "My kneecap, obviously." But he pointed to the darkening bruise on his left arm. We both stared at it for a second. Atlas winced again.

"Do you think it's broken?" I motioned toward the swelling.

"Wouldn't be surprised," he groaned. "Where's Evyne? She normally takes care of stuff like this."

"Unconscious by that clearing over there." I pointed toward Lefeli as she wobbled on her feet. "She looked fine, but that's not important right now. Can you move your arm?"

He immediately shook his head, certain of at least one thing.

"Well"—I took my dagger from my belt and grabbed a fistful of my filthy, ruined skirt—"it'll probably need a sling then."

For the second time that week, I shed the top layer of my dress to reveal my gray fabric underskirts. Atlas' eyebrows visibly raised before he slapped his uninjured hand over his eyes and turned in the other direction in honor of an illusionary modesty.

I swiftly cut through the loose material to form what would have to work as a temporary sling, then I crawled closer yet to Atlas and turned him back around, the fabric in hand. He was still covering his eyes and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, but that wouldn't affect his injury. I reached for his arm, then hesitated again. I knew this would hurt him. What if I did it wrong? Would I only make it worse? I chewed my lip again, my eyes glued to the a scratch near his wrist. I didn't have much of a choice, though, did I?

Atlas put his hand on the cloth in my fists and I glanced at his face. He had uncovered his eyes and now gazed at his injury, oddly focused, then he looked at me with a reckless acceptance that made my bones bristle and my stomach flutter. Then he raised his eyebrows, suddenly unimpressed. "I might do it quicker myself."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but found I had nothing to say. "Shut up, Atlas."

I huffed and moved the sling around his arm, taking the loose ends in either hand. Atlas cringed at the contact, but didn't so much as twitch as I bent his arm at the elbow and positioned it tightly over his chest. I tied the knot at the nape of his neck and stood up, dusting my hands off.

"I have to say—"Atlas peered town at the makeshift sling—"you're not the most graceful physician, are you?"

I let out a small sound of indignation and folded my arms across my chest. "Well it's a lot better than what you could do!"

He cocked an eyebrow at the poorly cut fabric and muttered something like "I wouldn't be so sure" before pushing himself to his feet with an obvious effort to avoid touching his sling.

A moment later, Lefeli caught up to where we were, looking distractedly at the shattered cart and various other pieces of debris and carnage in the area before glancing between Atlas and myself several times. "So I guess the traveling horse fell, then. The curse was right again." She scuffed her foot in the dirt and folded her hands behind her back nonchalantly. "How are we planning on getting back up the mountain, though? And all the way to Azareba?"

A long second passed before a great, collective sigh passed over us. I pursed my lips and surveyed the cart again, this time weighing the damage. Even I could tell it was closer now to firewood than any type of vehicle.

We were much closer to the bottom of the ravine than when we were on the road and I could now clearly see the rushing river not yet fifty feet down the mountain along with the harsh splashing of water that I had ignored before. Looking higher, I took in the true steepness of the mountain's upward slope and suddenly I was glad there weren't more injuries to account for.

"We should find a flatter area to set up camp"—Atlas pointed to the bags randomly scattered across the mountain—"and maybe we can figure something out once we have somewhere safer to sleep."

He walked toward where Evyne was still curled up on the ground and nudged her a few times before she awoke. I chose to turn away from the profanities that followed and instead opted to retrieve our bags from the mountainside, leaving the others behind as I moved up toward the wreckage.

My muscles reminded me of my fall with every step I took—by the time I reached the first bag, I was already panting. After a few minutes of bearing through the backache, though, my body gave up trying to get me to stop. I collected the several knapsacks and satchels in one place, forming a pile, and I slowly traveled higher and higher up to the road in search of more sacks or loose objects. As I picked up a small box from among a layer of rustled leaves, a loud scuff made me turn to see a profusely muddy Birdy skidding down a slope and to a clearing, where she walked in a circle and proceeded to look very confused.

I moved a ways farther and picked a few stray scarves and shirts from beneath some dead leaves, then headed back to the pile. After rummaging through some of the bags, I finally noticed a rope with which to tie Birdy's lead and I grabbed it and stood. My foot bumped a sack when I stepped and it toppled over, spilling its contents over the rest of the pile.

I blew a sigh through my teeth and crouched again, picking through the random objects and replacing them in the bag. A blouse, an unsurprisingly fashionable dress, a hairpin and some ribbons—this must be one of Lefeli's bags.

Then a glint caught my eye and I reached underneath one of the other bags to see a green-jeweled necklace, its chain a simple, worn silver, the pendant small but painfully memorable. My blood ran cold as I brought it closer, running my finger across the unmistakeable etching on the back of the pendant. Anya. The small, neat writing proved it. This was in Lefeli's bag? Why? How could it have gotten there?

I snatched the bag and jumped to my feet, the piece of jewelry in my fist as I raced down the mountain toward the others. I hadn't even packed it when I left home, which meant it should still be at my cottage back in a Esterwilde. Why was it here? The question burned a hole in my chest and grew a lump in my throat, repeating itself over and over until I rushed up behind Lefeli and pushed her shoulder so she faced me. I shoved the pendant in front of her face.

"Why was my mother's necklace in your bag?"