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“Jack, be careful. The deck is slippery.” Anna’s voice sounded farther away. “Neri, grab my bag. I’ll help your father with our piece of flotsam here. Actually, how about you run ahead and get the Jeep started so you’re not underfoot?”
“Okay. I’ll drive it down to the pier.”
“No. No driving. I told you last time—” Jack bellowed.
But it was too late.
The little girl with hair the colour of sun-streaked chocolate and legs as tanned as mine dashed into the captain’s cabin, snagged a black bag, then hurled herself over the edge of the boat.
My heart seized.
Images of my sister being flung out of my arms and into the sea made me sick.
But then the thud of her feet on wooden planks came and the sight of her sprinting to shore stole all my remaining strength.
The black spots won.
I passed out.
Chapter Four
*
Aslan
*
(Moon in Maori : Marama)
I RAN MY FINGERS OVER MY RIGHT wrist, following the bumps of a fresh cast that imprisoned me. My thumb and most of my palm were free but half my forearm had been encased with stiff plaster.
At least my wrist didn’t scream as much, cocooned in protection and dulled by over-the-counter painkillers.
Continuing my exploration, I raised my hand and stroked the neat row of stitches in my forehead. According to the doctor who’d sewn me up, my skull had been showing, thanks to a nasty thwack and throw by the storm. Seven internal stitches and eleven external ones meant I was no longer bleeding.
Glancing down my body, I narrowed my eyes on my left ankle.
At least they hadn’t bound me in a second cast.
X-rays had shown a fracture—just like my wrist—but they’d opted to strap me into a plastic boot rather than something porous and semi-permanent.
I was grateful for that.
Grateful for the care I’d been given, the kind smiles I’d been offered, and the lack of questions I’d been asked.
I hadn’t passed out again after I’d come to in the back of a rough and rugged four-wheel drive, my head on Neri’s lap. Her fingers had paused their journey through my salt-dry hair the moment my eyes opened and locked onto hers.
I’d frozen.
I’d struggled to breathe.
But then she just ran her fingers over my scalp again, sending a flurry of goosebumps down my arms and inside my heart.
The moment had stretched far longer than it should before the 4WD lurched to a halt, and Neri’s father wrenched open the back door.
He’d helped me hop into the hospital as my vision hovered between opaque and clear, dropping me into a wheelchair as two nurses approached.
I’d looked back as I was wheeled through double doors.
