Chương 20: B1 Chapter 19

The first warrior entered the brush. I waited as he moved carefully beneath the leaves, spear held in front of him while he tested the ground before every step. The second followed several paces behind, while the third moved farther to the left, disappearing and reappearing between the trees as he tried to circle around me. They were spreading out, which was smart. I hated that. The brush behind the village was thick enough that a standing man disappeared after only a few steps.

Broad leaves overlapped beneath the canopy, vines hung between the trees in loops thick as my wrist, and roots broke through the earth everywhere, some smooth and dark from rain, others twisted together into walls that forced anything larger than a child to climb over them. The terrain slowed the Bone Jaw. For me, it could stop me completely. There was nowhere I could simply run.

Every root was something I had to drag myself across, every fallen branch something that could catch my bad leg, and wet leaves slid beneath my knees whenever I tried to push too hard. I kept the blowgun pressed against my lips and watched the nearest warrior through the leaves. One dart remained inside it, and it was only a hunting dart. Everything coated in frog poison had already been spent in the village. Three men were coming for me, and I had one dart meant for animals.

The nearest warrior lifted a hanging fern with the point of his spear and checked the darkness underneath before stepping closer. Bones and teeth hung from cords around his neck. Some looked animal. Most didn't. A strip of dried skin had been tied around one wrist, and I chose not to study that closely enough to decide what it had come from. Beyond the three warriors, the Bone Jaw leader remained near the edge of the village.

Smoke from the burning shelters drifted between us, hiding him for a moment before his shape appeared again through the trees. His attention had shifted away from my father. It had settled on the brush. On me. I couldn't make out his eyes through the smoke and leaves, but I knew where they were pointed. He'd figured out where the darts had been coming from. The nearest warrior stepped over a root. I fired. The dart struck beneath his chin.

His head snapped backward as his hand flew to his throat, and he staggered sideways into a sapling while blood immediately ran between his fingers. The hunting dart had hurt him badly, but it hadn't killed him. He tore the shaft free, bringing more blood with it, then stared into the brush and roared.

"Shit." I was already moving. My good hand caught a root and pulled while my legs pushed as much as they could. My injured shoulder dragged behind me, sending pain through my chest as the dragon's blood sealing the spear wound tightened against my skin. Something at the edge of the hardened sap cracked, followed by fresh warmth creeping underneath it. The coca had changed the pain into something strange.

It still filled my shoulder, ribs, and back, but it felt farther away than it should have, as though it belonged to someone whose body I happened to be dragging through the jungle. Bitter juice coated my tongue, my heart beat too quickly, and my thoughts came sharp and fast even when they occasionally slipped away before I could catch them. Useful, though probably dangerous. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Behind me, the wounded warrior came crashing through the brush. Careful searching had disappeared with the dart under his chin. Ferns folded beneath his legs, branches snapped beneath his hands, and every step followed the trail I was leaving through the wet leaves. I'd made him angry. That helped. Angry men looked at what they wanted to kill and stopped paying attention to everything else. I knew what waited ahead. A fallen tree lay across the slope, its trunk hollowed by rot and half swallowed by vines.

I'd crawled beneath it dozens of times while checking traps, and the low buzzing coming from the branch beside it told me its other residents were still there. Wasps. I'd found the nest weeks ago and learned to give it space. The Bone Jaw hadn't. I angled toward the fallen tree as branches snapped behind me. His footsteps were closing the distance quickly, but speed only mattered if I was still trying to outrun him. I needed him close.

I flattened myself beneath the trunk and pulled through, keeping my body low while the buzzing grew louder beside my head. The nest hung beneath overlapping leaves just above and behind me. My good hand found a dead branch on the ground. I struck the limb supporting the nest once and threw the branch aside. The warrior came through immediately behind me. The buzzing became a roar, followed by a shout that turned into screaming. I glanced back and saw wasps covering his head and shoulders.

One hand clamped over his eye while the other swung his spear uselessly through the air. He staggered backward, trying to escape things too small to fight, and stepped straight off the narrow trail. His foot sank into the wet ground beside an exposed root. His ankle twisted beneath him, and he fell sideways hard enough that his temple struck the root with a dull crack. His body went limp. The wasps kept stinging him. I stared for half a heartbeat before turning away.

The jungle had killed things long before I learned how. I only had to know where to put them. A spear struck the earth beside my dragging leg, burying itself deeply enough to throw wet dirt across my calf. I twisted around. The second warrior stood between two trees with his throwing arm still extended. He'd found me. He gave a sharp whistle. An answer came from somewhere downhill and to my left. Two quick clicks of a tongue. The third warrior. I had no idea what either signal meant.

The second warrior started toward me while the third crashed through the brush somewhere ahead and off to one side, continuing his attempt to circle around. Another sharp whistle came from farther behind them, different from the first. The leader. Both warriors reacted immediately. The search had changed. One man was coming directly after me, the other was working his way around, and their leader had finally left the village to join them. I shoved the empty blowgun through the brush ahead of me and followed it.

Branches caught my hair, and a thorn opened my cheek. Another hooked near my ear and pulled until I tore myself free. When I tried to push harder, my bad foot folded beneath me and drove my knee into the ground hard enough to make my teeth click. Pain shot through my hip, but the warrior behind me was already forcing his way through everything I'd crawled beneath, snapping branches instead of going around them. To my left, the leaves shook whenever the third man moved. Sometimes I caught the sound of him.

Sometimes nothing at all. The man behind me only had to catch me. The other was trying to decide where I would go before I got there. I shoved beneath a low branch and dragged myself through wet leaves until the ground suddenly dipped. Rainwater had carved a shallow channel through the earth, leaving slick mud at the bottom and exposed roots along either side. I slid into it. Mud coated my stomach and chest.

The blowgun nearly slipped from my hand, but I caught it and dragged it against me before it could slide farther downhill. The warrior behind me reached the edge of the wash. His steps slowed, and then the tip of his spear appeared through the leaves overhead. I flattened myself. The point passed across my back close enough to disturb the leaves resting against me. He cursed. The sides of the wash were too slick for him to simply drop in without risking a fall, forcing him along the edge in search of solid footing.

For once, being on my stomach helped. I was already where he was trying to go. I pulled myself through the mud as quickly as my arms could manage. Somewhere above and to the left, the third warrior gave another sharp whistle. The one behind me answered with two quick clicks of his tongue. I still had no idea what either signal meant. A moment later, the man behind me slowed while the other changed direction somewhere ahead, and their meaning became clear enough. One followed. One cut me off. I pulled harder.

The wash opened onto a narrow animal trail behind the village. A peccary trail. Hundreds of little hooves had packed the earth hard, leaving roots exposed like ribs beneath a tunnel of low branches. The trail curved downhill toward the river before splitting around a stand of thick-rooted trees. I knew it. I turned downhill. Behind me, the second warrior finally dropped into the wash and followed. Somewhere to my left, the third changed direction after hearing me move.

The trail made things easier for me because I no longer had to fight every vine and root. For them, it meant they could run. My palms slipped against the damp earth as I pulled myself forward, fingernails filling with mud. My bad leg caught behind a root and twisted until I had to stop long enough to reach back and drag it free. Then footsteps struck the trail behind me. Close. Too close.