Rise by Danielle Racey

anymore.
    Victoria crept closer to him, lifted one of his arms, staggering backwards under the weight. She sighed. Just one of his arms was going to be too much of a chore. She stumbled and lifted the other, so that Roman’s head was falling forwards into her stomach. She wrapped his limp arms around her waist and started to turn in a circle to head back to camp. Abruptly, Victoria stopped. She looked down to where Roman’s head lay nestled against her stomach. Just ever so faintly, she could feel something pulsing. She stopped and bent down for a closer feel, and then chided herself for her stupidity. She hadn’t even thought to check his pulse. She pressed two fingers against his neck. It was there. Weak, but pulsing steadily. Then he wasn’t dead. Victoria’s lip curled involuntarily into a smile, and she immediately replaced it with a scowl. She shouldn’t be happy he’s not dead. This was the second time he had tried to assassinate her, she thought, and squared her shoulders as newfound confidence washed over her. She couldn’t wait to get him back to camp.
    Victoria charged forward, abandoning all attempts concerning Roman’s comfort. As she marched steadily on, she could feel his body sliding clumsily over the earth behind her. Now that she knew he wasn’t dead, Victoria chuckled at the thought of Roman waking up, covered in twigs and mud, with only her word for what had happened in the woods. She giggled at all the obscene things she could tell them, and he’d have no choice but to believe it. It was a pleasant thought, one that gave her company as she traipsed through the black night.
    After what felt like almost an hour later, Victoria rounded on a campfire. She was sure that this was the one she had left Sister Katherine at, last, but as she neared, she was sure she heard more than one voice. In fact, there were several, and they seemed to be having a grand old time. Victoria looked down at Roman, who at this point, was caked in mud from the forehead down. Not a single bit of him had been spared. Even the inside of his mouth, as his tongue lolled open, had a considerable amount of dirt inside. Victoria groaned. This must be the initiation rite Raela was hinting at. As she crept closer to the campsite, to her surprise, she saw a crowd of people.
    Sister Katherine was still sitting by the fire, sharpening daggers, but now, several other nuns, whom Victoria had never seen before, accompanied her, and they were chatting casually. Every so often they stopped to admire the gleam of the dagger’s metal in the firelight, but then returned to whatever it was they were discussing. A few paces away stood a group of men, all clutching large mugs. One man said something, and paused. Right on cue, the rest of the men erupted into laughter. For a moment, Victoria stood then, stunned. She had expected an entirely different scene, upon arrival. Perhaps Sister Katherine, solemnly congratulating her on her first job. Or even Raela. No, Raela wouldn’t’ give Victoria credit if her life depended on it, but Victoria didn’t need acknowledgement from Raela. All she needed to see was the look on her face. She smiled just thinking about it.
    Victoria stepped into the clearing, and immediately, the laughter ceased. Nearly twenty heads swiveled in her direction, and for just a moment, she wondered how silly she looked, carrying what probably looked like a dead body, back into camp. She stood there, waiting for someone to make the first move. The group of men on the left simply stood as well, most of them holding their mugs frozen mid-air. Sister Katherine put down her knife slowly, and got to her feet.
    “ Well done, Victoria. Looks like you had…quite the time. You two were just supposed to give each other a hard time. You weren’t supposed to kill him.” Sister Katherine walked briskly over to Victoria, put two fingers to Roman’s neck, and let out a sigh of relief. “He’s not dead, Ammon. You can rest easy now."