Flesh and Blood by Jackie French Page B

bite it Neil moved back.
    The Centaur turned. He reared. He lashed down with his hooves. But Neil was faster, he’d ducked behind the rosebush, he struck again, into the Centaur’s side, distracting him from me.
    I had to tell Neil to run back into the hall, and shut the door. I’d go round the back. Maybe if I ran Neil would follow, but my legs wouldn’t obey; the knees, I thought, why won’t they hold me up? The world was growing colder.
    And suddenly it was over.
    The Centaur stopped, oblivious to Neil’s blows. He made no sound. He just collapsed, his legs folding under him. The brown eyes were open. The bloodstained mouth as well. The blood was mine.
    But at least he was still. And this time I was very sure that he was dead.
    ‘Neil … are you all right?’
    ‘Yes. Can you walk?’
    ‘Of course I … no, Neil I …’
    ‘Lean on me.’ He helped me inside, then half-carried me into the living room and onto the sofa. ‘I’ll bind that up then call Elaine.’
    ‘What? … Why? … Oh, I see.’ I looked at the blood pulsing from my arm. Suddenly I felt faint. ‘Yes … yes do …’
    The world turned even greyer. I needed to tell Neil I’d already called Theo. But somehow it didn’t seem to really matter, and anyway the world was black instead of grey and I was cold, colder than I’d ever been …
    When my vision cleared a white pad was roughly strapped onto my arm, hiding the worst of the gore, and Neil was holding sweet tea up to my lips.
    ‘Drink,’ he ordered.
    I sipped.
    ‘Elaine?’
    ‘She’s on her way. Theo and others too.’
    I nodded. I shut my eyes again. I didn’t want to see the blood on my arm. I didn’t want to look outside and see the Centaur lying in my garden.
    What had happened? Had he woken after we had left? Was he angry because we’d abandoned him to die alone?
    But surely, surely he’d been dead.
    Dimly I heard the dikdik stop outside the gate; heard Elaine’s voice, and Theo’s and some others; felt Elaine’s cool hands and the prick of local anaesthetic and Neil saying — unnecessarily — ‘Don’t look,’ as Elaine’s fingers ran sealer along the wound.
    Then another cup of tea, hotter and even sweeter than the first, and a pillow behind my head and blankets.
    ‘I thought he was dead,’ I said. ‘I’d never have left him otherwise. He should have known we wouldn’t leave him if I had thought he was alive.’
    ‘It’s hard to tell with Animals,’ said Elaine gently. ‘Animals with a small “a” too. They retreat into themselves when they are sick or injured. A form of shock, I think.’
    ‘But his breathing,’ I stammered. ‘He’d been panting and then he stopped.’
    ‘Shh,’ said Neil. ‘Don’t think of it. Don’t upset yourself. It’s bad for the baby.’
    ‘The baby?’ Panic ran through me. ‘She’s all right, isn’t she? The Centaur didn’t hurt her?’
    ‘Of course she’s all right,’ said Elaine, with a warning look at Neil. ‘But you’ve had a shock. Have a warm bath, get into bed …’
    ‘… Link into painbegone and call me in the morning,’ added Neil.
    Elaine shot him another look, indulgent this time. ‘Well, yes. Link into painbegone. The anaesthetic will wear off soon and I don’t want to give you any drugs. Set yourself an immune boost too, level 3 should be enough — too high a boost isn’t a good idea when you’re pregnant but you can go to level 6 without worrying. And do call me in the morning, just so I know you’re all okay.’
    ‘Will do,’ said Neil.
    I was trembling again as he led me up to bed.

chapter 20
    I t’s funny, but looking back I always think of the morning after the Centaur died as the point where life changed. Not the moment when Michael told me about the plague, not the precautions we took after that.
    There have been five times so far when I have felt my life sliced away from the life that went before. That first morning in the creche with the other Forest children, when our minds