The Wandering God

47 Only When the Year Grows Cold 1/3

歲寒知松柏
Suì hán zhī sōng bǎi
Only when the year grows cold do we see the qualities of the pine and cypress.
Adversity reveals virtue.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I heard Zakhar crashing off through the undergrowth. The men shouted and followed him. Then there was silence save for the sound of my own labored breathing.

Fingers numb and wet with blood, I pulled my way from the crevice, stumbling as I stepped down onto the forest floor.

The pain in my shoulder was excruciating. I realized the bolt must have shot through a nerve, or a joint to cause me this pain. I needed to remove it.

My vision darkened, and for a moment I thought I would pass out.

No!

Gritting my teeth, I reached up to feel the bolt in my shoulder. The shaft was thick, and the head narrow and made of heavy steel.

Made for punching through armor... that bastard shot me with an armor breaking bolt.

Luckily, this meant that the bolt head was not barbed, and would be easier to pull out.

I clenched my teeth, gripped the arrow by the tail end, and pulled.

"Grr AaaGGHH!"

With a nasty, wet sound, I pulled the bolt from my shoulder and threw it to the ground.

Then I promptly vomited.

As I straightened up I recalled suddenly Captain Duan doing the same thing with Zakhar's arrow, in the commander's room at Changsha Fortress all those weeks ago.

How did that dog do it so easily?

The arrow was out of my shoulder, but the pain and effort of removing it left me weak and dizzy. My head spun, and I leaned it against the cool rock to try and still it.

No. I have to go to Zakhar. He is facing those head hunters on his own.

I pushed away from the rock and struck out the way Zakhar had gone, following the trail of broken branches and trampled snow. Blood from my shoulder ran down one arm, leaving drops of red that looked dark brown on the long dead forest foliage my fingers trailed against.

My head circled as I tried to make my way back toward the road till all directions were one. My foot slipped on a slick root and I found myself on my back, staring up at the scar of pale sky I could see between the pine.

It started to snow.

One of the flakes fell to my cheek and melted there, running like a tear.

Pain.

How easy it would be to just lie here, till the pain went away.

No! What am I doing, what was I thinking? I have to get to Zakhar!

I staggered upright again, the pain in my shoulder causing me to reel. The air was cold, but my right arm was warm with my own sticky blood.

I stumbled on.

Finally I staggered from the forest undergrowth onto the road. Our horses were milling about, but no one was in sight.

I heard shouting from further up the road.

I shrank back into the undergrowth, and stumbled through the forest toward the yelling as fast as I could.

The road curved, and when it straightened again I could see what I had heard.