Page 23 of Wings of Desire

“Honey, please talk to me. What’s wrong?” I plead, and my eyes blur with unshed tears.

He doesn’t answer or move.

My fingers press to the side of his neck to check for a pulse. Xakiras’s skin is still warm, and underneath the pad of my finger I feel a faint, subtle beat of his heart.

“I’m going to roll you over, okay, baby?” I talk to him, hoping he can hear me. It calms me to keep speaking to him. “I need to check you for wounds and treat them.”

I place my hands under his waist, unsure if rolling him over will break his wings or not. My hope is that it wouldn’t. Still, I have to know if he’s alive.

His body is stiff as I try turning him. It’s as if moving a boulder. I grunt, heaving him over onto his side, not wanting to break his wings or fold them in. Once he’s there, I see the gaping, raw wound on his stomach. It has bright red tendrils that reach out over his skin, scaling up his neck and arms.

Xakiras’s eyes are open wide, as is his mouth, and blissfully I see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

“Oh, my gosh.” I relax momentarily, knowing that he’s breathing even if shallow.

My mind races through memories of scorpions on earth. I recall studying them, but we no longer have their DNA to study them fully. The venom they produce, if left untreated, could be fatal.

Tears stream down my face as I hug him to my chest, cradling him as I stroke his hair. “I’ll stay with you.” My voice breaks into sobs. “I promise.”

The warrior’s way

For over an hour, I hold Xakiras in my arms, stroking his hair, whispering sweet promises and caressing his hair. I have swollen eyes from the tears I’ve cried and my chest aches, but I refuse to leave his side.

As I sit with him, I realize that the venom isn’t acting as quickly as I expected it to. Though he remains entirely motionless, and his breathing is shallow, he’s alive.

My legs are tingling and numb, and just as I consider shifting, I glance upward to see several Nocris hunters with brightly colored wings soaring above us. Hope surges in my chest, and I jolt into action.

“Help!” I scream, waving my arm upward into the air. “Please!”

My heart leaps in excitement at the possibility of Xakiras being rescued. This has to be his hunting party from before.

“Ho!” one of them calls out, and he pauses in the formation with a hand upward to halt everyone else behind him.

“Please help!” I call again, squeezing Xakiras’s shoulder. Leaning down, I whisper to him, “They’ll help you, sweetheart. It’ll be better soon.”

Within moments, the five Nocris hunters land near the dead Krel carcass. One has bright pink wings, another with dark brown with bright orange eyes.

“Xakiras?” the pink-winged hunter says, stepping forward, hesitating as he sees me. I look at him with terrified, pleading eyes.

“He was hurt by the Krel.” I say, struggling to steady my voice and push away the sobs. “He can’t move. Please help him.”

The pink-winged hunter laughs, and all the others join in. “Ah, is that all? He’ll be fine. We are all dosed with the venom early. He’s only paralyzed and unconscious. He won’t die.”

I feel confused, but the relief washes over me. I begin to laugh with the others as tears stream from my eyes, overcome with relief. “He’ll be okay!”

The pink-winged one nods his head, though he rolls his eyes with mild annoyance. “It’s just like him to wander off on his own and get hurt.”

“It is?” They pull Xakiras’s body off of mine, hauling him to his feet as if he’s a rag-doll.

“In a few hours he’ll come to,” one reassures me as he places a gentle three fingered hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be embarrassed, but I assure you we will not allow him to forget it.”

Two hunters drag Xakiras toward one of the tents, finding a place where he can regain consciousness peacefully. Meanwhile, the two others remove the Krel body out of sight, hauling it away from the encampment.

“Come,” says the remaining hunter with torn, burnt umber wings. “Let’s make a fire and rest until he wakes up.”

I hesitate, fixed on the tent where Xakiras is being taken. I don’t want to leave his side. The fear that something could happen makes me unsettled. It’s as if the hunter senses my hesitancy. He pats my back reassuringly. “He will be fine. Let mymen talk with him first. We need to make certain he remembers who is in charge.”

“Will you hurt him?” I ask, as he leads me through the tents to a small circle of grass where I assume he wishes to create the fire pit.

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