Page 32 of Warrior
It didn't matter that every hit sent fiery shards of pain throbbing through my body. It didn’t matter that I felt the heat of his blood and tissue littering my skin. The only thing that mattered was never letting him hurt one ofmychildren again.
I recognized the moment he died. His body slumped to the ground with a heavy thud, eyes staring blankly into the abyss. The blood from his wounds reduced to a trickle and the last breath that left his lips rattled and whined.
He was dead.
I killed him.
My legs gave way and I collapsed. Sharp rocks clung to my palms as I clawed toward Ewok's lifeless body. A warm flow of tears wetted my cheeks, winding a pathway through the drops of Scarface’s congealing blood. Each sob ripped from my throat like a knife tearing through fabric. Gently placing my head against Ewok’s chest, I strained for any signs of life. Barely audible over my own sobs and gasps, I found it - a faint but steady beat.
George's voice carried on the wind, calling out my name, yet I could not answer. The blackness threatening over the last few minutes took hold, pulling me into nothingness.
I felt a strange sense of discombobulation. The cot was warm and cozy, like I'd been abed a while—but that wasn't right. The room was dark save for the pale green glow from underneath the doorway, brightening the din enough that I could see Daicon in a chair pulled close to the side of the bed. His head was down, held aloft by his hands, elbows balanced onhis thighs. Was he sleeping? I don't think he was supposed to be here—but I couldn't remember why.
Something felt strange—different.
I wasn't supposed to be here either, but I couldn't remember why or where else I needed to be. Memories, like pale shadows moving through a fog, lay in my head, darting just out of reach.
“What happened?” My tongue felt coated by sand.
Daicon jerked, going to his knees beside the cot, golden eyes wild and worried.
"It's okay, sweetling. Everything is okay." His voice was soothing—in direct opposition to his expression.
Why did he keep telling me everything was okay? Wasn't it supposed to be? My brain pushed through the fog to the last clear memory of sitting by someone’s bed….
“Ewok!” I jerked upright, throwing back the covers and forcing aside dizziness threatening to swamp me. “Where’s Ewok?”
Daicon spread his arms wide, blocking my escape. Even on his knees, he was taller than me.
“Calm down.” One muscular arm settled across my shoulders. "Ewok is fine. Everyone is fine.”
“H—he’s, okay?” Hopefully, Daicon noticed mydon’t lie to me expression. It was dark in the room.
Settling on the cot's edge, Daicon pushed me back against the pillows and drew the blanket over my legs. The gore staining me from before was gone, and I wore a clean cotton shift. George couldn't have done it. He's too small. Daicon must have bathed and dressed me. The idea that he’d seen me naked didn’t embarrass me as much as it probably should have—odd.
“Ewok is fine. George repaired the internal damage with the medi-unit. The last I saw him, the little Kerzak was conscious and visiting with the rest of the younglings.”
Relief was a sweet kiss until I thought of the children returning from the mine, and a vision of a bloody mess flashed before my eyes. “Oh, God. The children. The guard… his…body….”
Daicon laid his hand over where my fingers harangued the blanket. “The younglings saw nothing.”
“What? How?” His touch might have soothed the nervous tics of my body, but my brain ran in overdrive.
Daicon’s chest swelled with a heavy breath. “I returned shortly after….” The golden eyes darted away from me shamefully. “Daisy, I am so sorry I was not here to protect you and Ewok.” He shook his head, tawny hair flying about like a lion's mane in a breeze. "The younglings saw nothing. I moved the guard’s body and cleaned up before they returned. They don't even realize you were hurt. George told them you retired early due to exhaustion from sitting with Ewok all night and day.”
“I was hurt?” I blinked in surprise. My skin felt too tight, but there was no pain.
Daicon’s fingertip stroked from my temple along my jawline. It was amazing how hands that big and callused could touch so softly.
“George used the medi-unit on you, too. You had a concussion and broken jaw, little warrior.”
Little warrior.
Memories flashed with sickening clarity, and I shivered. “Oh God, what will the other guards do when they find his body? I put us all in danger.”
“The guards will never find him,” Daicon promised. He shifted so I could see him clearly. The worried wildness was gone and, in its place, caring, and relief.
“What? How? He was big.” Nothing seemed to penetrate my mind enough to make sense. Scarface hit me. I rememberedthe slam of his hand against my face. My brain must still be rattling from the aftershocks. Nothing seemed right.
