“While you were gone, we got to know one another. We only had each other, so we talked a lot. He is just a lonely man looking for comfort in a woman.”
She dragged me into the far reaches of the house, where one lone table and two chairs sat. Both pieces of furniture looked relatively intact.
I studied Emily but said nothing.
After Emily cleansed my wounds and applied soothing herbs, we both headed outside.
Marcellious stood near the horses, holding three sets of reins. The fourth one grazed nearby.
“Ready?” he said, looking at Emily.
“I think so.” She turned to study me. “You don’t look so good, Olivia.”
I felt terrible—weak, exhausted, bruised, and battered—but I was determined to find Chief Grey Feather. “I’m fine.”
“Let me help you up,” Marcellious said, handing the horses to Emily.
I stood next to my horse, clutching his mane. Marcellious put his arms around my waist and lifted me into the air.
I swung my leg over my steed, and Emily handed me the reins. I wanted to collapse onto my horse, sink onto its back, and fall deeply asleep. Why did I feel so awful? I’d been injured before. All my strength seemed to have fled my body.
“Do you know the way?” I asked Marcellious as he helped Emily up.
“Of course,” he said with a sneer. “How do you think I got the name, Hunting Wolf? I’m an expert tracker.”
Excuse me,I wanted to snap back, but I just didn’t have the strength.
Marcellious leaped onto the back of his horse, and we were away.
We traveled for days to return to tribal land. I kept to myself mostly, conversing little, thinking about Roman.
I hope he’s okay. I hope he lives long enough for me to find the journal.
As the days went by, I grew weaker and weaker. At times, I could barely stay upright on my horse. Instead, I slumped over its neck and held on tight.
Emily and Marcellious remained on either side of me. They tried to get me to converse, but I wanted to crawl into a shell and hide.
Marcellious had to help me from my horse every evening, where I’d collapse by the fire, shaking, feverish and miserable.
Emily spoon-fed me broths she made from the game Marcellious killed. But I couldn’t keep it down. By the time two weeks were up, I was barely coherent. I overheard Marcellious and Emily talking in hushed voices around the fire one night as I lay there, sweating and delirious.
“We’ve got to stop somewhere and let her heal,” Emily said.
“I think you’re right,” Marcellious said. “She doesn’t look so good. I’m afraid she will die if we don’t get her fixed up right.”
“Oh, what are we going to do?” Emily lamented. “She’s determined to continue this quest, but I think it’s to her detriment.”
“I don’t know,” Marcellious said, “but we’d better think of something, fast.”
That night, I dreamed Roman lay dying, covered in cockroaches. They feasted on his eyes and nose and burrowed inside his ear canals. I fought with them, stomping on them and slicing them with my knife, but they kept coming and coming and coming.
“Olivia! Olivia!” Emily hissed in my ear. “Wake up! You’re having a nightmare!”
I awoke with a start.
Marcellious stood watch in the moonlight several yards away.
Embers still glowed in the fire.
