need to finish it,” she said, pointing to the circle. She tried to pull Quinn closer to it but it was impossible to budge him. “Bring it all over here,” she ordered shrilly, jumping up to drag the much lighter Wodge further away. She rolled him to the other side of the fallen tree and by the time she returned, Oliver had everything set up.
“You must cut yourself,” he said apologetically, holding out a small knife.
With an impatient groan, she grabbed it from him and slashed her finger, shaking a few drops of blood onto the herbs. She got Quinn’s head in her lap and wrapped her arms around his chest, making sure not to dislodge the jacket from his still bleeding wound.
“Oliver, do it,” she cried, pressing her face into Quinn’s hair.
She was terrified Wodge would wake up, and looked around for the gun, wondering if she should just finish him. Oliver held up the instructions and shakily read the strange incantation. He cut his own finger again, then with a grimace, pulled the soaked edge of the jacket from Quinn’s shoulder and shook some of Quinn’s blood over the leaves.
“We have to sing,” he said, grabbing her arm. His voice cracked as he began something she didn’t recognize.
Clutching Quinn tighter, she saw the log move as if Wodge was trying to pull himself up. She screamed, unable to think of a single verse to any song, then everything went quiet and black.
Chapter 6
Sunlight shone through the tree branches, blinding the eye Lizzie cracked open. The air was markedly cooler and she rolled onto her side to see Oliver on his hands and knees, retching. She sat up fast enough to make her head spin and her vision blink out for a moment, but she dug her fingers into the ground until the dizziness passed.
“Quinn?”
She scrabbled in a circle until she saw him, sprawled a few feet away. The jacket had dislodged from his shoulder, revealing a large red stain on his shirt. Once at his side, she pressed her fingers against his throat until she found his pulse, and sighed with relief. He opened his eyes and groaned.
“What happened?” he asked.
It all came rushing back and fresh fear prickled all over her body as she scanned the area for Wodge. The big downed tree was gone. Shrubs and saplings grew all around the clearing, and there was no sign of him.
“You got shot,” she told him, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Oliver did the spell and … something happened.”
She got up and after a moment to find her balance, ran around the perimeter, poking under bushes and kicking at leaves to make sure Wodge hadn’t come with them. There was no sign of him, and the horses they’d ridden in on were nowhere to be seen either.
“Did it work?” Oliver asked weakly, crawling over and inspecting Quinn’s wound.
Quinn swore and closed his eyes as Oliver prodded at him. Lizzie dropped down next to him and took his unresponsive hand. Before she could yelp with fear, Oliver held up his hand.
“He’s just passed out from the pain. Look, the ball’s still in.” He swallowed, looking like he might be ill again. “I think it hit the bone. He’ll need more help than we can give him.”
“I’ll go to the castle,” she said, noticing Oliver’s face for the first time. “Dear God, did he actually break your nose?”
Oliver blushed. “Yes,” he said shortly. He nodded his head in the direction of the castle. “Do you think we’re in the right time?”
She stood up, feeling less confident than a second before when she volunteered to go for help. “Well, we’re in some time,” she said. “Someone will be there, right?”
“He told me the Fergusons and Glens were never that friendly.”
“Then we won’t tell them who he is,” she snapped, heading away.
She was as scared as Oliver, but they couldn’t sit around hoping for the best. Not with Quinn bleeding freely all over the forest floor. Nausea hit her and she rushed back. Ignoring Oliver’s questioning look, she knelt
“You must cut yourself,” he said apologetically, holding out a small knife.
With an impatient groan, she grabbed it from him and slashed her finger, shaking a few drops of blood onto the herbs. She got Quinn’s head in her lap and wrapped her arms around his chest, making sure not to dislodge the jacket from his still bleeding wound.
“Oliver, do it,” she cried, pressing her face into Quinn’s hair.
She was terrified Wodge would wake up, and looked around for the gun, wondering if she should just finish him. Oliver held up the instructions and shakily read the strange incantation. He cut his own finger again, then with a grimace, pulled the soaked edge of the jacket from Quinn’s shoulder and shook some of Quinn’s blood over the leaves.
“We have to sing,” he said, grabbing her arm. His voice cracked as he began something she didn’t recognize.
Clutching Quinn tighter, she saw the log move as if Wodge was trying to pull himself up. She screamed, unable to think of a single verse to any song, then everything went quiet and black.
Chapter 6
Sunlight shone through the tree branches, blinding the eye Lizzie cracked open. The air was markedly cooler and she rolled onto her side to see Oliver on his hands and knees, retching. She sat up fast enough to make her head spin and her vision blink out for a moment, but she dug her fingers into the ground until the dizziness passed.
“Quinn?”
She scrabbled in a circle until she saw him, sprawled a few feet away. The jacket had dislodged from his shoulder, revealing a large red stain on his shirt. Once at his side, she pressed her fingers against his throat until she found his pulse, and sighed with relief. He opened his eyes and groaned.
“What happened?” he asked.
It all came rushing back and fresh fear prickled all over her body as she scanned the area for Wodge. The big downed tree was gone. Shrubs and saplings grew all around the clearing, and there was no sign of him.
“You got shot,” she told him, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Oliver did the spell and … something happened.”
She got up and after a moment to find her balance, ran around the perimeter, poking under bushes and kicking at leaves to make sure Wodge hadn’t come with them. There was no sign of him, and the horses they’d ridden in on were nowhere to be seen either.
“Did it work?” Oliver asked weakly, crawling over and inspecting Quinn’s wound.
Quinn swore and closed his eyes as Oliver prodded at him. Lizzie dropped down next to him and took his unresponsive hand. Before she could yelp with fear, Oliver held up his hand.
“He’s just passed out from the pain. Look, the ball’s still in.” He swallowed, looking like he might be ill again. “I think it hit the bone. He’ll need more help than we can give him.”
“I’ll go to the castle,” she said, noticing Oliver’s face for the first time. “Dear God, did he actually break your nose?”
Oliver blushed. “Yes,” he said shortly. He nodded his head in the direction of the castle. “Do you think we’re in the right time?”
She stood up, feeling less confident than a second before when she volunteered to go for help. “Well, we’re in some time,” she said. “Someone will be there, right?”
“He told me the Fergusons and Glens were never that friendly.”
“Then we won’t tell them who he is,” she snapped, heading away.
She was as scared as Oliver, but they couldn’t sit around hoping for the best. Not with Quinn bleeding freely all over the forest floor. Nausea hit her and she rushed back. Ignoring Oliver’s questioning look, she knelt
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