Page 52 of Null & Void

I crawl to her face, her eyes wide open and wild. She whinnies in terror and pain. Bitty sits behind her head as both Tovi and Riley arrive. Bitty yells at Tovi to help Beans in the cave and she hesitates for a second before sprinting away. Riley has fallen to his knees beside me and is trying to ask if I’m hurt.

My beautiful, Sweet Girl. Everything inside me is screaming in agony as I lie awkwardly on my side, hugging her face.But the agony isn’t from my injuries alone.

I’m stroking her from between her eyes all the way down to her soft muzzle whiskers, trying to soothe her, while whispering in her fuzzy ear.

“It’s okay.

“Go to sleep, Sweet Girl.

“Thank you for saving me.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

“It’s okay.

“I’ve got you now.”

The only sounds are my whispers and her slowing breaths. Soon, I can hear Bitty and Riley’s breathing too.The sound of shuffling steps from the cave’s entrance increases as Sweet Girl’s breathing slows further. Then, she breathes out one last lingering breath. And doesn’t breathe one back in.

“I’m sorry, Mika. I can’t hear her heart beating anymore,” Bitty whispers.

And the breath I didn’t realize I’d sucked in and held, comes ripping out of me in a guttural scream that might last forever. My vision goes black while the scream still rings in my throat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

It’s night-time, I think. I stare at the roof of a darkly lit room and take stock of my injuries without moving. It hurts to breathe in, but not as much as it did.

I’m not dead then.

A painful throb stings from my knee to ankle on one leg, and I assume this is my reward for skating along a rough cave floor on bare legs. There are various aches and bruises and a pounding headache, but nothing serious of note.

I have no idea where I am, but it’s not a cave, and I’m in a real bed. Despite my physical complaints, I am numb. Devoid of rage, empty of everything. A thin sheet covers me. Thankfully, I’m not naked, though I do wonder who changed my clothes.

A snore startles me. Someone else is in the room. The snore turns into the soft breathing of sleep. I wait, listening for other sounds, before turning my head slowly toward the sound of breathing. There, slumped awkwardly in a sofa seat next to my bed, is Riley. He’s asleep and likely has been for a while. The lantern next to him on the side table has burned out.

Behind him, there is another bed and side table, and presumably the exit. A table laden with jugs, bowls, and uneaten food is on the opposite wall. Turning the other way, a dark but star-filled night is visible through a giant window, and nothing else. Not even a tree or another building. Where am I? I can’t even tell what time of night it is.

Sitting up isn’t easy, but I refuse to make a sound and wake up Riley. I fail when panting with the effort wakes him.

I see him reach for me, but he must decide better of it and rubs his eyes instead. “You’re awake?”

“Apparently so,” I reply with a grimace. My throat is a little sore.

Riley refills and relights the lantern on the bedside table. A soft glow illuminates the room, its delicate flicker bouncing around the walls. I’ve stopped panting, but I haven’t moved from my seated position or even turned to look at Riley.

Riley stands and walks to the end of my bed in my line of vision, his arms crossed. Half of his hair has fallen out of the thong he must have tied it up with. He’s not wearing any weapons, though I saw his sword next to his seat.

“How long have I been out?” I rasp as he hands me a glass of water, and I nod a small thanks.

“Four days.”

I thought it would’ve been longer. “Were my injuries not so bad then?” I ask, surprised.

“They were bad. We brought in a black market Gifted healer. She wasn’t powerful, was only able to fix your ribs so they didn’t puncture your lungs, but it helped.”

That makes sense. Plenty of Junky healers can only heal cuts and bruises, or something specific like bones. There is an unspoken agreement to not report them for defecting. The general populace doesn’t have legal access to Gifted healers, who are usually reserved for royalty and the wealthy.

“You’re still badly bruised, and you have a concussion. Stitches in the back of your head. Your leg is very swollen.” Riley’s voice begins to sound like he’s reprimanding me.

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