The Menyarian Project

HARLOT

Phoenyx's body slumps to the ground. My heart skips a beat. I kneel slowly to the ground beside Phoenyx. Blood trickles from the wound in his neck, and I wonder if he's dead. I can't tell if he's moving or breathing, so I find his wrist to take his pulse.

I breathe a sigh of relief. He's fine, for now; the pulse is there, but its very faint. I try not to show my panic, but it's useless. My hands shake and a sick feeling starts in my stomach. I attempt to think of a plan to help Phoenyx; a way to get out of this pit.

I can't carry him. He's way too heavy to carry up a ladder. I can't call for help. There's no one around. I remember the cave that Phoenyx had mentioned the other day. Maybe he has something there. Something I could use to help him; to save him.

Before I even attempt to finish my plan to leave, I tear a strip of cloth from my white undershirt to clean his wound. I need light to see; the moon's light isn't enough. Well, I think. You know how to make fire. See if you can do that again.

I attempt to do the same thing I did earlier. My thoughts of panic and worry create walls, preventing me from doing anything. What did you do last time? a voice in my head asks. I was only thinking of saving Phoenyx. I reply silently to the voice. Then do it again. Save him. That's all I have to think.

But fire won't save him. It will just give me light. Just do it, the voice tells me. Save Phoenyx. I have to save him, I think. A tiny flicker starts in the palm of my hand. Save him. A tiny flame appears, making my heart jump. I keep repeating save Phoenyx in my head as the flame grows.

As soon as the flame is large enough, I begin cleaning Phoenyx's wound. There isn't much I can do. The blood keeps seeping from the wound, creating a small puddle beside his neck. I feel as if it's hopeless. No matter how much I clean his wound, the blood keeps coming. Clean. Blood. Same routine. Repeat.

I finally take the strip of fabric and wrap it around Phoenyx's neck like a tourniquet. Not too tight, or I'll suffocate him. Just right. A temporary hold, but it may stop the flow of blood long enough for me to figure out what to do.

I don't even know him. But I want to help. I don't want him to die. Maybe it's because I have finally escaped and found someone like me. I thought they were killed. But I found someone. I don't want to be alone. So what do I do? My mind wanders back to our conversation from yesterday. I remember asking where he came from.

"The cave just east of here. It's small, but it's hidden. I've got all my supplies there. I only bring my weapons on hunts."

The cave. Why didnt I think of it before? Probably because I was panicking, but it's an idea. A risky one at that. I'd be leaving him here. Alone and defenseless. What if there are more Wolves? But I have to take the risk. For Phoenyx. As my heart races in fear, I grab his bow and carefully remove the quiver from his back. After all, if anything is gonna come after me, I might as well be protected.

The quiver slips over my head easily; rests on my shoulder lightly. It's surprisingly lighter than it looks. As is the bow. I decide I need a couple of practice shots if I'm going to even attempt to defend myself. My fire skills come in handy as I set a small log afire that was unused earlier; I retreat from the target and turn to face the flames.

I try to do as Phoenyx had, lining up the arrow and drawing the bow. The moonshrill feather touches my cheek, leaving a small cut. Breathe in. Relax. Loose the arrow. I hold my breath in anticipation. The arrow hits right above the mark. Disappointed, I repeat the process and loose another arrow. Right below the mark. Just can't get it right.

Instead of staying any longer, I retrieve the two arrows and return them to the quiver. Breathe deep. And walk toward the ladder. I take a quick look at Phoenyx before I begin my climb. If not for the wound, he'd look like he was sleeping. Yet sleeping is not something I'd like for him to do right now. If he falls asleep, he may never wake up.