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“You know, for someone who is trying to help, you’re not very good at it.” I rub my ankle to ease the pain. He’s given me a makeshift bandage for my leg, but despite it, I get an intense shooting sensation up my leg every time I try to stand.
He pauses and paces back and forth. “We don’t have time to just be sitting here.”
“Why don’t you go do whatever it is you have to do? I can manage on my own, thank you,” I scoff as I try standing up. As soon as I put weight on the heel, the shooting pain reappears, and I can only hobble.
I fall back against the tree trunk. The pain is only getting worse, and I’m worried we’re going to be stuck out here after dark.
He moves over to me and tries to hold out a hand. “If you let me, I can help heal your ankle so you can walk.”
“I got it, thanks.” I reprimanded him with a hand in the air to stop him touching me. Some savior. He’s brusk, impatient, and all muscle. There’s no way anyone that chiseled can understand the throbbing pain I’m in right now.
Forcing myself to stand, if just to spite him, I’m instantly floored with an intense ache that reaches up to my hips. At this point, I’m just ready to get moving again.
“Fine,” I huff, sitting back on the ground and holding my leg up in the air. “Tell me what to do.”
He comes closer, notably frustrated that I won’t let him do it himself. But hey, even a girl in distress makes the rules. I hear his breath get slow and steady as he comes near and I realize he’s closer to me than he’s been yet. His eyes are intense and focused. He’s like nothing I've ever seen before.
“Pull one side of the bandage,” he says. The pain shoots up again. I yelp, but I don’t move my foot. This better work.
“Apply pressure here, and secure tightly at the ankle,” he says, showing me where to wrap. Finally, I manage to secure the end in place.
“Now try,” he says. As soon as I let go, the pain goes down. I can’t believe it, he wasn’t kidding.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah, instead of a sharp pain, now it’s more of a dull, throbbing discomfort,” I reply. I try touching the bandage but he stops me.
“You’ll only make it come off. Here, can you stand on your feet?” He stands up, and I follow. I push myself against the tree to get onto my feet.
I put a little weight on my ankle, and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. I put the rest of my weight on it, and it’s uncomfortable, but much more manageable.
“Yeah, I can stand on it.” I walk a couple of steps. I’m still limping, but I can move on my own now.
“Good, let’s keep going.” He turns to walk away. He’s really in a rush to get to something. He’s so forceful, but a part of me appreciates that. It’s nice to have someone take charge and know what they’re doing.
He seems to glide over the underbrush. His movements are so smooth and calculated, it almost seems like he’s floating. Every step feels like a battle for me, but for him, it’s effortless.
Even though he’s walking slowly, I’m having a hard time keeping up. Every time I brush my ankle against a rock or a root, a mild stinging pain goes up my leg.
After a while, he stops. I make my way next to him, catching my breath. He doesn’t even seem tired. His breaths are calm and shallow compared to mine.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“It’s getting too dark already. If we’re going to cover much ground, I need to carry you.” He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks. He’s looking at the sun and the surrounding jungle.
“I’m okay, I can walk,” I reply. While getting a break sounds appealing, I’m also not sure how I feel about getting manhandled by this stranger. A Kaleidian, no less.
“No, I need to carry you.” He looks me in the eye for a second, then leans down to grab me by my waist. He hauls me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I try to protest, but before I know it, I’m looking at the ground.
“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing! Put me down!” I start smacking his back with my hands. His muscles feel like granite underneath his glistening skin. I can feel their power as he takes each stride.
I try to steady myself by putting my hand on his shoulder. He’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met. Each muscle is clearly defined, like he’s part of an anatomy textbook or something.
Laying over him I’m suddenly struck with a feeling more intense than the pain in my ankle. Taking the breath straight from my lungs, the contact of my skin on his flushes hot through my body like fire. I want to cry out. Instead I breathe as deep as I can trying to understand it.
Suddenly, he puts me down. He doesn’t say anything, but he has a stunned expression on his face as though he felt it too. I can hardly stop him as he grabs my hand and puts it against his and I’m hit with the feeling again.
I want to speak, but something holds me back. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but it seems important. I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his hand.
