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35
Ari
Ilookuptonothing, a gaping hole in front of me as if a giant hand came and scraped away the mountainside.
“Roan!” I yell, but it comes out more like a mangled cry. The path is completely gone. Just— gone. My legs are paralyzed for a single heartbeat before truth crashes into me. The soft ground. The rain.Mudslide.
I lean over the edge, frantically searching. My thoughts are screaming to stay away. Where I stand could fall away at any moment. But the terrified churning in my gut turns into tunneled focus, compelling me forward. Nothing but brown muck greets me as I look down.
I can’t see him.
My eyes search wildly for a path, any way safely down to find Roan, but none appear. The gap is too wide for me to jump, and if I go back the way I came it will take me at least a day to get down there. He might not have a day.
I don’t know his condition, but from the buzzing I feel running through me I know he needs help, desperately. My resolve breaks through any sense of personal safety.
“This is stupid, Ari. This is beyond stupid,” I say out loud before grabbing my dagger and gripping it firmly in my hand. I take one more breath before I stick my blade as hard as I can into the soft mountainside, and leap myself into the sloped gorge.
The knife does its work, slowing me down as I slide toward the bottom, but not enough to save me from the force of the debris in my path. Something hard slices through my skin as I plunge, rocks bruising into my soft flesh. I move quickly through the grime, slipping effortlessly down, down, down.
The grip on my knife begins to waver as my sweaty hand mixes with the slick muck, wedging themselves between my hand and its hilt. I dig my elbow and heels into the thick paste to give myself time to adjust my grip. The hill steepens, hurling me harder and faster to whatever awaits me at the bottom. Brown, brown, and more brown greets me, making it difficult to assess how much longer I have to go. A few trees come into view.Almost there.
A glint just ahead of me catches in my vision. On instinct I reach for it, grabbing hold of something long and sturdy. I slam it alongside my knife into the soft ground, twisting myself onto my stomach. Slowly, but surely, it finds traction and my speed eases. I pull it from the mud after I stop completely, swiping away the thick murkiness to see what lies beneath. Roan’s sword.
I stand, every inch of me covered in mud. A few scrapes on my arms burn bright against the brown as I scan the damage around me. I’m atop a large, thick pile of mud, its edges thinning out into the forest until green pokes through in the distance.
“Roan!” I shout, my voice booming through the quiet space. Only a soft breeze and silence greet me.
Where are you, Roan? Scream. Wave your hands. Just show me where you are.My feet sink in with each step as I move to scavenge for my… friend? I don’t really know what Roan is to me, but I suppose it's the least of my worries right now.
More nerves rip through me as I see large branches and small trees sticking out from the rubble. The probability of finding him whole and unharmed is zero, I realize. He could even be buried underneath the vast remains of the fallen mountain, and I may never find him. My breath hitches and my eyes suddenly feel heavy.
Mother would have liked him.
The thought bubbles through my mind, drifting away like a fallen leaf in the Rashan. But wait— it’smythought. My truth. I grab it back, the idea turning from phantom smoke to something corporeal as I wrap myself around it. I allow it to take hold in me. I let its truth give me the energy I need to lift my foot out of the sinking ground, its suctioningsquelchhardly registering past the ringing in my ears.Find Roan. Find Roan. Find Roan.
I move around the scene, my heart racing as each step gives me more of nothing.Must move faster. Must find Roan. My breathing is quick and shallow, my head spinning as the brown melts together into one endless pile. Have I searched here already? I don’t know. No landmarks exist in this hell to help me keep track. I get the spindly sensation that I’m going in circles, covering the same ground over and over. I let out a cry, its radiating howl echoing through the canyon cliffs that surround me.
Another noise flickers through the scene. A groan, a cough, a whimper— I’m not sure. I whip my head around, my feet fumbling through the muck as I follow the direction of the sound. My legs ache as I continue to slip around, falling and picking myself up every other step.
“Roan!” I yell. “Where are you?” I continue to scream his name, hoping to hear any kind of response. But nothing comes. As I take my next step, I trip, falling hard. My hands sting as they land against the gravelly mud, but a groan just behind me dissolves away the pain.
“Roan!” I yell, turning and coming up beside him. His stare is blank, focusing on the sky above. “Roan, talk to me. Roan?” It feels like I’m screaming, but hardly more than a whisper come out of me. “Where are you hurt?” I ask, not fully expecting an answer, but hoping. Carefully, I roam around to feel for broken bones, deep cuts, and anything sticking into him that he may have picked up from the momentum.
“Evander. I’m so sorry,” he whispers as I continue my assessment.
“I’m Ari. Roan, can you see me?” I snap a finger to catch his attention, the sound getting muffled from my dirty fingers. But his eyes don’t move in reflex to the noise.
“It’s all my fault.” Another whisper.
He must have hit his head. My thoughts want to explode with his rambling, but I direct myself to stay focused on his physical injuries.
When I get to his legs, blood is pooled underneath his right calf as I wipe away the thick coating of mud. The slurping sound makes me wince as I lift it from the ground.Please don’t be broken.I roll up his pant leg. A deep, long gash runs from above his ankle to a few inches below his knee. It’s bad, but as far as I can tell it's not broken.Thank goodness.
“Roan,” I say his name again, snapping again until I see his eyes flicker. “Can you move your leg? Wiggle your toes?”
He opens his mouth, releasing a garbled noise. When nothing else happens, I take that as my answer.No.
“Roan, focus on my voice. Can you move your other leg?” I shake his left leg, hoping the movement will find its separation from the pain of the other. He begins to wiggle the leg, then bending it at the knee as if to stand.
