Page 65 of Katya and the Young God

At the sound, the soldier backs away, training the muzzle at her, as if she’s still a threat. Which is exactly how she’d act, if she was in their position, but —

They swing onto the helicopter, as it starts up the roters again, kicking dust up into Katya’s eyes and…

And leaving her alone.

9

It’s a punch in the gut, and she doubles over, letting her knees buckle, letting herself fall to the side, onto the soft forest dirt.

Something burns in the back of her throat, vicious and thick, and she coughs to clear it, clear out the knot of whatever the hell it is away from her.

Stepan bounds over to her, licking her face, tongue wet and rough against her face, paw on her shoulders, and she pushes herself up, roughly, the best she can with the cuffs still on.

He left the dog.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she says, getting herself into a kneeling position, and her throat rasps with all the dust and dirt and everything. “Stepan, down, I’m okay.”

Miraculously, the dog backs down, sitting in front of her, its blue eyes serious.

She exhales, shedding her gloves behind her back, then curls up her hand, curls up her fingers, rolling back her shoulder until the seam of her sleeve hits her nails and…

And scrambles for the false whip stitch along the hem of the sleeve, the small metal pick sewn in flat against her wrist.

She hates being right. Hates being tricked.

It takes her a few moments of pulling at the string before the handcuff pick falls into her hand, and a few more minutes of fumbling for the lock with her hands behind her, but the cuffs fall open after short work.

Stepan thumps his tail the moment she rolls her arms forward, eager.

“Okay,” Katya breathes out, taking the moment to bury her fingers in the dog’s thick fur, before, shaking, she pushes her legs up beneath her. “Okay. We got this.”

* * *

She can’t stayat the campsite, with its helicopter accessible clearing and obviously murdered body, but she knows she won’t be able to make it all the way down the mountain by sundown and she’ll have to camp out for the night at some point.

First thing she does is go through her pack and toss out anything that’s not needed for the walk down the mountain. The extra rope. Her now very bloody towel. The climbing pitons they made everyone carry. Even one of her extra pairs of clothing, as any extra weight will be horrific for her.

Pack lightened, she has a better chance making it down in one piece.

She briefly considers how to take down one of the cots for her inevitable need to sleep in the middle of the forest, but they’re heavier than she feels comfortable with, and she’s slept on harder grounds with a sleeping mat before. She’ll be covered in bugs, but after the last few days…

Bugs are the least of her worries.

Stepan paws at her, and she eyes him, eyes the collar, knowing that Pieter has runes on it to make her want to stay, but she feels no compulsion to stay at that particular location.

“Think you can walk with me, boy?” She says, sliding her hands through his fur. “It’ll be a lot.”

The dog thumps his tail against the ground, and she forces a smile.

Taking a moment, she makes herself check the dog’s pack, and it’s full of individual packaged portions of dog food, enough for probably a week more. Pieter expected this to go on much longer than it did.

Or didn’t expect to come out, and didn’t want his dog to run out of food before people realized he wasn’t.

Hesitating, she stuffs some of her extra protein bars in the empty spaces in the harness, and her fingers graze car keys.

At least when she gets down, she’ll be able to drive away.

Stuffing the keys in her pocket, she pushes herself to her feet, and Stepan is immediately standing next to her. “You gonna come with me?” She asks, and her own voice is raspy.

---