Silver Eyes Chronicles: The Journey Begins Trilogy: Book One: The Reunion

Chapter Twenty-One: Reunion

Ronan

Ronan and Kirena make their way through the mountain pass. Orkdurun is now far behind them, but still feels like a dark shadow lurking behind their backs. Naria is still unconscious, the makeshift bandage around her throat now stained with dried blood.

Ronan looks down at his beloved cradled in his arms. Her head leans limply on his shoulder, her snowy hair spilling out across her face like a veiling curtain. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks Kirena, every so often, looking over at the young girl.

"I'm feeling a little weak, but I'll be all right," she replies, a pained groan escaping her as she takes another agonized step. "Naria is the one who needs help right now."

He looks extremely doubtful, at her proclamation. He chews his lower lip as he considers her burns, bruises and emaciated appearance that is not unmarked by scars and gods knows what else.

He honestly wonders how she managed to survive all those injuries in all that time.

Yes, Naria needs help, he thinks, consumed by worry. Not just for his beloved's sake, but also for the young girl next to him. But so does she. With all those injuries she has, it's a miracle she hasn't succumbed.

But there is a small part of him that says it is only a matter of time before she does. And Ronan can't help but hate and agree with it.

Remembering his own inward promise before setting out from Orkdurun, he says nothing. But he looks at Kirena with concern, knowing if Naria ever recovered and her sister did not get help, she would never forgive him for it.

Especially since I was there to do something about it, he thinks, vehemently. And I will, he thinks.

Kirena continues on, taking a deep breath now and then, screwing her eyes in abject pain.

"Put your arm around my waist. I may be able to support you that way," Ronan suggests, moving closer to her, hiding his cringe at the undeniable pain she is trying to hide. She nods gratefully and does so.

"There, I've got you," he says, to which Kirena nods, a wince coming from her lips.

Supporting both Naria in his arms and Kirena around his waist, Ronan slowly makes his way through the mountains.

"How long before we get there?" Kirena asks, looking up at him and then at Naria, worry clearly etched on her thin features.

"I don't know. But I hope that we'll get there soon," Ronan says, looking down at Naria, sharing Kirena's concern. She unconsciously turns her head to one side, her brow furrowing.

Gently, he touches her bandaged throat, and then frowns. He looks over at Kirena before slowly  unwrapping the makeshift dressing.

The bleeding in the wound in Naria's throat has stopped. But her face is still deathly pale, her breathing shallow.

He swears softly, knowing that Naria needs help and soon.

Her throat, he thinks, cursing at himself, not even wanting to think of what was in the dagger that must have slit her throat. But neither can he deny it. It had been cut, but badly. How could I have missed it?

He looks down at Naria's unconscious, but still very much alive form. Seeing her badly cut throat where Nayuna slashed her, makes him grit his teeth, his eyes flashing with an untold anger.

And whatever poison was on that knife, he thinks, angrily.

"Ronan, I think I see something," Kirena says softly, bringing him back.