Blast From the Past by Nic Saint Page B

how young she was, barely a woman at all. The moment she gazed into her face, she knew she was badly hurt. Her eyes fluttering closed, the young woman nevertheless appeared cognizant of her presence, for she whispered something incomprehensible.
    Lowering her ear to the woman’s lips, she held her breath, and when the words registered, she frowned in confusion.
    “Mama. Vozmi menya k mame.”
    Not comprehending, Joanna whispered back, “I’ll get you to a doctor.”
    Though the moment she’d spoken the words, she understood her promise was an empty one. She would never be able to move her. Not with a wound as lethal as the one the man had inflicted. Her eyes were drawn to the arrow as it protruded from the woman’s chest. She didn’t know much about medicine, but from the blood spreading like a bloom, she knew it was bad.
    For a moment, she wavered, then made up her mind. She would hide her body in the brush, then run to town for help.
    The moment she touched her hands to the woman, her eyes snapped open and she winced in pain. “Don’t leave me,” she moaned.
    “I won’t leave you,” assured Joanna, then slipped her arm beneath the woman’s back and gave her a gentle tug. When no response came, she realized she’d passed out, her body limp and her eyes now closed. Swallowing away a lump of fear, she started dragging the victim behind the brambles that had provided her a hiding place from the man.
    Either the woman was heavier than she looked or her strength was failing her, for she had only progressed a few yards when the sound of a bugle startled her. This time it seemed much closer, and she knew she didn’t have much time before the hunters would be upon her.
    Using all the strength she had, she dragged the poor woman away where she hoped she would be safe, then quickly covered her with fallen leaves and clumps of grass, concealing her from the passing observer as well as she could.
    Pricking up her ears, she waited for a moment, trying to steady her racing heart, then moved away from the undergrowth and snuck to the edge of the forest, looking out across the meadows for a sign of danger.
    When nothing stirred, she sprang up and made her dart to safety, crouching low and making haste, putting as much distance between herself and the man as possible. She needed to get to town, and fast, before the woman succumbed to her wounds.
    And she’d just reached the open fields, when a voice rang out behind her.
    “Come back here, you!”
    Making a wild dash, she ignored the command and ran as fast as her legs could carry her across the soggy land. Just then, an arrow whizzed past her ear, and she cried out in terror and fear.
    “Stop right there!” the voice came. “Or the next one will hit its mark!”
    Trembling like a leaf, she abruptly halted in her tracks, her wild streak at an end.
    “Turn around!”
    Slowly, she heeded the order and started turning to the source of danger. When her eyes met the tall man’s, she knew this was the end. And even though just before she’d been contemplating ending it all, she now found she wasn’t ready. She wanted to live—not die like a beast in this field.
    “Just—let me go!” she cried out, her voice quaking. “You don’t have to kill me.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed. With steady steps, he approached her, his bow now slung over his broad shoulder, the arrows poised in their holder, dangling from his waist. Up close, he was even more impressive than she’d thought. His eyes were a striking fawn with not a hint of mirth. His face was hard and angular, his brows hooked over his eyes and his nose a sharp slash.
    There was power in those eyes and those irregular features, and even though he wasn’t handsome in a traditional sense, she felt a twinge of regret she couldn’t have made his acquaintance under normal circumstances, instead having to view his face as the last she’d ever gaze upon.
    When he was upon her, she closed her eyes, knowing that the end was