The Prophet's Daughter (5 page)

“Do you want me to help you pull?” I asked, glancing down at Isaac as I rolled out the first strand of bandage around his father’s
waist, testing how much I would need to address his wound as it needed to be.
I’ll just use the whole roll.

“No,” He snapped and shot out of sight. I shook my head, peering over the mountain of supplies to see what he was doing; he dragged
the bodies of our attackers out of the way, down the hill I had imagined falling down less than an hour before.

I crawled towards the end of the cart where I had sat earlier, patting Seth’s leg. With a quick jerk, we began to roll along. Isaac
was strong, that wasn’t questionable, but the cart didn’t move near as fast as it had when Seth working with him. I knew it would have been a little faster if he had allowed me to pull along with him, but Seth’s wounds did need addressing if we had any chances of keeping him alive.

“Okay, what did Mum do with Dad after the bear…?” I sighed, lifting up Seth’s soaked shirt to reveal the full extent of the wound. It was deep, far deeper than I felt capable of fixing, and I didn’t have the skills to stitch it up like it ne
eded to be. I doubted we even had the required supplies for stitches, anyway.

Calm,
I thought and inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to calm my climbing nerves, struggling to keep my hands from quivering. Cold sweat coated my body, but there was nothing I could do to stop the rising panic aside from breathing. I reached for the bandage and my bag, unzipping it and grabbing a water bottle. I had to clean it out. Digging through my bag, I found a thin floral patterned scarf and doused it in water. It was a gorgeous scarf and I chewed on my lip, running it through my fingers. It had been my mother’s – most of my clothes had been at one point or another.

“Sorry, Seth,” I whispered, knowing that if he was conscious, he would be in a world of pain that was about
get a lot worse. I began to dab at the stomach wound, cringing as flaps of torn flesh shifted and the crusted blood wiped away, allowing fresh blood to pump free and douse his already coated outfit.

I threw the bloodied, dripping scarf down, groaning in
frustration. He was still bleeding and it didn’t seem to be stopping. With a single moment, I lifted Seth up and flung the scarf beneath him, wrapping it around his torso and tying it as tight as I could. I didn’t know what else I could do aside from bandage it. Pulling the thick beige gauze over to me, I rolled it out around his wound.
One, two, three, four…
I thought, counting each strand that I pulled tight around his bloodied, bruising waist.

“Not a nurse, this is the best I can do,” I breathed, staring
at the bandaged wound as I sat back, pressing against the side of the cart. I hoped it would be enough to sustain him until Isaac and I could figure out what we were going to do.
Seth, please wake up… Tell me what to do…
Isaac was scared; I didn’t blame him, because I was too. I wasn’t sure how I could even begin to help him, though. I sighed and leaned against the side of the cart, watching the bodies of those we had murdered disappear from my sight as we bumped along.

Time stretched onward and the sun ha
d long dipped almost all the way behind the horizon line as it began to set and the moon climbed the ranks of the sky, stars twinkling above. Cold wind blew over the land and I pressed against the cart, legs curled up to my chin. It was cold, but my hoodie was coated in blood and I didn’t want to bother digging through my stuff to find a jacket.

Seth’s arm had been a breeze compared to his torn open stomach and had stopped bleeding a while ago. He hadn’t stirred since he’d gone under, and every few hours w
hen Isaac couldn’t push on any longer, he had come back and checked on his father, always making sure he was breathing and ensuring he had a pulse. We didn’t exchange a single word.

We pulled to a stop along the road and I sat, listening for the sound of I
saac’s footsteps crunching in the gravel as he came around the corner of the cart to check on his father. As he turned, I inhaled a deep breath, unable to keep the fear that kept my heart beating deep within my chest from hiding. Every small voice inside of me was terrified that he was going to yell at me; what for, however, remained a question.

He stood half hunched, eye lids drooping and rubbing his reddened arms and cracking his back, groaning. He was dead tired, but at the sight of his father still rema
ining unconscious, he seemed to wake up and stood up straighter, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“I’m going to pull into the forest for the night; we’ll find a clearing and set up camp. We’ll stay there until he wakes up,” Isaac
grumbled, stretching out his arms before he disappeared again, yawning. I nodded and leaned back, staring up at the sky, basking in the assortment of colors that smeared across the yonder. Orange streaks stained the clouds and the little blue that could be seen was tinged with red. Words could not describe how gorgeous the sky was that night.

The cart jerked in an instant and I swayed, my head bouncing off the side of the wooden panels that surrounded us. I rolled onto my side and grasped the walls of the cart as we moved, s
waying from side to side as the cart rocked over bumps and roots. I watched as the other side of the road, which I hadn’t noticed was a stretch of rolling feels, disappeared from sight as the trees closed around us.

“Ouch,” I complained, screwing my eyes s
hut and rubbing my head. It hadn’t hurt at first, but the swaying and jerking movements had begun to amplify the throbbing pain within my head. I glanced over at Seth, who hadn’t moved more than half an inch from where he lay, his body swaying somewhat.

“I
t’s going to get a little bumpier,” Isaac hollered.

“Is that even possible?” I called back and moved to grab onto Seth, and as if on cue, the cart began to rise up. I glanced at our belongings, shifting where they sat.
Don’t fall, oh please don’t fall.
Soon enough, the cart thumped against the ground and I clung on to Seth as we flew into the air for a moment.

“Everyone okay back there?” Isaac’s voice was weaker, his words parted by heavy breaths.

“Yes! We’re fine!” I responded, biting my lip. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

Isaac did not respond and I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut as we continued to bump and shake along the forest path.

I opened my eyes after what felt like a large chunk of time had passed – an hour at least, I’d had to guess, but as I looked to the sky, the moon had only just begun to shine down on us through the thick canopy of leaves when the cart pulled to a stop. I puffed out my cheeks, blowing air through my nose as relief swept over me.

“Sweet, sweet ground,” I laughed as I
leaped out of the cart, stretching my arms up above my head and grunting at the slight pain shooting through my muscles, turning around just as Isaac came around the cart.

“I’ll get the tents set up, can you start a fire?” Isaac asked, looking back at me
as he clambered into the cart, digging through the bags, pulling things out and setting them down wherever he could. Every few seconds he would look back at his father, frown, and continue with his search.

“Anything to warm my frozen toes,” I said and stro
lled away, scanning the area with tired eyes. It wouldn’t be hard to find wood to burn, it was everywhere, along with fallen leaves and plants to feed it when we didn’t want to waste the wood – it would be useful for other things, after all. I walked around the clearing, bending down and picking up all sizes of twigs and branches before heading towards what I figured was near enough to be the center of the cleaning, not too far from where Isaac stood; now setting up one of the tents. I dropped most of the sticks and twigs in a pile, staring at the make shift fire pit. It was missing something, but what?

“You need rocks,” Isaac interjected, grunting as he struggled with the tent, smacking himself in the face with a pole. A strong curse left his lips and I smi
rked, shaking my head.

“I knew I forgot something,” I responded, “and you watch your language!” I spun around, surveying the area for any large stones that could be used for the fireplace.

“Shut up,” he called, but as I spun around to respond, I caught a smirk on his face. I laughed, turning away and shaking my head. At least he wasn’t sour-faced and glaring. He had every reason to be

Scouting proved to be somewhat useful, as by the time I returned
with a few good rocks, Isaac had both the tents up and I had gotten the fire going, the roaring flames a beacon in the dark night. It was warm and enjoyable for the moment, despite the pressing matter of what would happen come morning. We had decided to leave Seth in the cart where he was, leaving him safe underneath a plastic tarp and on top of my foam bed. He’d stirred for a moment, just long enough to cough and groan, but we’d had nothing out of him since then, and he lay silent, breathing ragged and wounds swollen and redder than the flames.

“When is he going to wake up?” Isaac asked, staring at me from the opposite side of the fire. He sat, arms stretched out behind him supporting his body, one leg sticking out and the other with his knee pointing to th
e sky.

“I’m not sure, Isaac. I don’t even know if he will wake up,” I stared at him as I responded, sitting with my chin resting on my legs. He cringed, returning his gaze to the fire, and I watched as the reflection of the flames danced in his pained eyes
.

“So, when are you going to ask?” Isaac grumbled after a few seconds of silence, looking back up to me with a bored expression on his face

“Ask what?” I wondered, brow furrowing, watching him.

“Ask about how I know your real name.” He shifted where he sat
, his arms no longer supporting him and instead with one leaned against his knee, the other fishing through his pockets. I couldn’t get a good look at what it was, but it glinted in the firelight for a brief moment before he closed his hand, pressing it against his chest.

“Are you going to tell me?” I snorted. “I’m not wasting my breath if you don’t.”

“If you tell me why you lied, then yes, yes I will.” His voice was monotone, and I had a feeling he was serious. If I told the truth, he would respond with the truth in turn, an eye for an eye; one little unspoken deal.

“I already told you about my parents,” I began, turning my gaze to the sky, looking at the stars above; I could just see the stars that made the constellation Orion. “Whoever killed them is look
ing for me,” I confided, looking down at the fire and refusing to look up at him, refused to see any form of emotion he may have felt towards my situation. All of it was unwanted, unnecessary – there death was on my hands.

“So you lied about your name,” he
said, and there was something in his voice – I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but whatever it was, I didn’t think I wanted to know.

“I don’t doubt they know it,” I sighed, stretching out my legs, the warmth of the fire against my feet relaxing.

“I see your point,” he responded with a grunt, shifting where he sat again.

“It’s your turn, how do you know who I am?” I demanded, staring up at him.

“Your name is Arin; I overheard you at that trading post with the old man,” he said, shrugging, but he did not meet my gaze.

“Hungry?”

“Starved, do we have anything good?” I responded as my stomach began to rumble.

“I think we have some dried apricots or an old can of some beans or something, maybe we can go hunting in the morning and catch a
fresh rabbit?” Isaac suggested, heading off towards the cart. I closed my head and tilted my head back, sighing. It’d be great to head out on a hunt; I hadn’t gone on a hunt for days.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” I sighed as Isaac returned, passing me a bag of
dried apricots and sitting down beside me. I stared at him, questions bubbling into my mind. I wanted to know more about him, but I didn’t have the right to question him. Not after all he and his father had done. I settled into the grass and opened my package, popping a slice in my mouth and chewing, screwing up my face at the dull flavor. What I wouldn’t have given for some fresh caught pigeon or partridge.

“Do you ever wonder what it used to be like?” Isaac blurted, swallowing his food after he spoke.

“Hum?” I turned to look at him, “I didn’t catch what you said.”

“Before, when people weren’t trying to kill each other at every corner?” He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow. “What it was like? Do you ever wonder?

“Of course, I’m always curious about what it was like back then.” I felt a sense of astonishment that he’d asked me; didn’t everyone wonder? “Mum used to tell me stories of what life was like for her when she was my age. She told me about how one time, she got on a bus with her friends to go to a mall, which is this really big building full of places like the trading post, and she would be there for hours on end just looking around, window shopping is what she called it, and then she would go to a movie with her friends,” I said, looking up at the sky, watching the stars as I spoke. “And she wouldn’t get home until dark and her mother would yell at her for being out so late. It’s kind of funny to think about being yelled at for being out after dark, isn’t it?”