Timber

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Corn and Combatants

A sleek, curved blade protruded from the earth mere inches from Ruby's crouched form. Her slender frame quivered, one hand clamped tightly over her bicep, fingers pressed against the fabric of her shirt where a coppery maroon stream trickled down her arm. A strangled cry escaped her mouth as she curled in on herself, kneeling amidst the shattered cornstalks.

Without hesitation, Ethan knocked an arrow, drew back the bowstring, and released it into the cornfield; the first was immediately followed by a second. Both arrows, marked by their distinctive blue fletching, vanished into the dense rows, toward the unseen threat. But nothing happened. There was no further sight or sound of whoever had just attacked their group. Ethan prepared a third, the bowstring strained with tension as he fixed his stare on the cornfield. Planting his feet firmly beneath him, he positioned his body protectively in front of Ruby.

Hazel pulled her own axe forward in front of her body, her fingers tightening around its handle. The corn still swayed in the wake of the weapon that had just been thrown in their direction, several ears marred with curved cuts.

Hazel's gaze briefly connected with Silus's. In his warm mahogany eyes, she detected a storm of worry, but it was quickly masked by a resolute determination. His posture shifted, facing the corn, muscles tensing as he broadened his stance. His axe with its intimidating blade was secured in both of his hands. The sunlight of the arena caught its edge, sending intimidating scarlet glimmers across their makeshift clearing.

Silus and Aaron edged closer to the border of the open space; their shoulders rigid as they vigilantly scanned their surroundings. However, visibility was severely limited; just a few feet beyond the edge of the clearing, the corn rose up like a wall. The stalks stood so close together, their leaves interlocked to create a barrier that blocked out not only sight but also the sense of the world beyond. It made Hazel feel almost disoriented with the way the rows seemed to close in, the clearing feeling both claustrophobic and exposed at the same time.

A low moan from Ruby pulled Hazel's attention back to the injured girl. Hazel hurried towards her, the patchwork of dirt and crushed stalks mushed beneath her knees as she dropped down beside the younger girl. Ruby's damp curls shielded her face as she bent over herself, eyelids flickering open when Hazel's hand fell over hers.

"Let me see," Hazel insisted as she searched the girl for any more injuries. The only blood Hazel could see seemed to be coming from her arm, which Ruby was desperately holding onto as if it would fall off if she let go. With another word of whispered encouragement, Hazel peeled Ruby's fingers away. The torn shirt clung to the seeping blood like a second skin, obscuring the flesh below it. With careful yet forceful tugs, Hazel tore the material of the sleeve. The fabric gave way, allowing Hazel a clearer view of the wound that marred Ruby's arm.

As Hazel's scrutiny fell upon the deep laceration, Ruby bit her lip, a sharp intake of breath the only sign of her agony as Hazel's fingers brushed the wound, tracing its jagged edges. The gash extended from her forearm, snaked its way up along her bicep before finally ending at her shoulder in a wide arc. With each movement or terrified breath that Ruby took, the wound oozed bright red blood, the edges of the laceration parting with each motion.

"Put as much pressure as you can stand," she instructed, her voice strained but resolute, guiding the girl's trembling hand over the wound bed.

Hazel retrieved her axe and began cutting strips of fabric from the remnants of Ruby's shirt sleeve. She fought to keep her movements precise despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She tightly wrapped the strips around Ruby's arm as much as the plaid fabric would allow, just under her armpit, applying the necessary pressure to stem the bleeding.

The hoarse voice of Ethan met her ears as he stood in front of them, casting hasty side glances while keeping his bow trained on the corn. "Is she going to be, okay?"