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Fiath extended his elbows and legs, stiffening them, forming a protective cage around me, and taking the brunt of the downhill roll.
He grunted and hissed through his teeth upon each shuddering impact. We wound down the hill faster and faster.
I screamed, not in pain, but fear of what Fiath was putting himself through.
The momentum slowed and Fiath’s head lolled back, losing consciousness. He lost his grip on me and I rolled under my own steam the final few yards.
I was up in an instant. My body ached and I had a slight limp but nothing was bent or broken the way it would have been if I’d been through what Fiath had.
Fiath shook his head, already coming awake, and pushed himself up. A bone protruded from his upper arm and was smeared with his blood. The rest of his body was already cracking and crunching.
Dislocated joints.
But they popped back into place without much effort on Fiath’s part. He clenched his teeth at the pain.
“My arm…” he said.
The bone protruded from his skin. What did he expect me to do about it out here?
“Snap it back into place,” he said.
Right. If it wasn’t in the right position, it couldn’t heal properly.
I held his arm and placed my foot on his elbow.
This was definitely not typical medical procedure.
I straightened his arm and stamped on his elbow, snapping the bone back—roughly—into place.
Even Fiath screamed at that one.
They might have super healing abilities but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like hell.
Fiath relaxed. He needed to rest and recover, but we didn’t have much time.
“We have to keep moving,” I said.
I gripped him by the hand and helped him up. He wrapped his arm over my shoulders and together, we staggered into the forest.
The Changeling soldiers leaped over the hillside and sailed down it. Their limbs were long and rode it easily.
My heart sank.
There was no way we could outrun them. Not with our injuries.
The soldiers came to the foot of the rise and aimed their rifles at our chests.
“You gave us quite the runaround,” one of the Changelings said.
This one had a lump on one side of his head. He had to be the one Fiath struck with the bucket.
“But we have you now,” he said.
Fiath stepped toward them and held out his hands.
The soldiers stiffened, not letting him get close enough to disarm them the way he had the Titan farmer.
“Let us go,” he said. “I can give you whatever you want.”
