SpringFire by Terie Garrison

shoulder, willing him to stay unconscious for now while Shandry rearranged the baggage on the pony. Then, lifting Traz as carefully as we could, we lay him over Dyster’s back, his legs dangling down one side and his arms down the other. I could only hope that moving him this way didn’t make things worse.
    Shandry took the pony’s reins while I walked alongside, one hand on Traz’s back to keep him from falling off. Dyster, in one of his rare comments, assured me that he understood the importance of not letting the boy fall off.
    Going slowly, we made our way down the steep hillside. Though both Shandry and I slipped several times, neither of us fell.
    When we got to the bottom, we were both as muddy as Traz. The blood had drained from his face, and he looked to be in a bad way. I wished, as I had a million times on the descent, that he hadn’t fallen. Or that I had the power to instantly heal him, though I doubted such a power existed.
    “The way station isn’t much farther,” Shandry said.
    Ten minutes later, the most welcome of sights up ahead caught my eyes: a real, proper roof peeked out between the tree trunks. We quickened our steps.
    The way station was a large, stone hut, sturdily built and empty of anything except a fireplace and a large store of dry wood. We carried Traz inside and lay him near the hearth. Shandry went back outside to unload Dyster and settle him for the night in the small stable behind the hut. I built a fire and fussed more over Traz. I removed his damp jacket and wrapped him in all the blankets we had with us, then washed the dried mud from his face and hands. I checked his leg and was both relieved and surprised to find that it hadn’t swelled up.
    By the time Shandry came back inside, the fire had warmed the single room of the hut, and it felt downright luxurious not to feel cold. She let out a sigh of relief as she took off her cloak and hung it next to mine on a peg near the door.
    “How is he?” she asked.
    “Well, his leg doesn’t seem to be any worse, although I don’t see how that can be. Not that I’m complaining.”
    “Let’s take it as a good sign.”
    Traz had hunted well the night before, and we’d packed the extra meat, so I got it out, along with the cooking gear, and started making supper while Shandry took the waterskins out to the well to refill them. I made enough for three, in case Traz awoke, and left his portion in the pot on the edge of the hearth, keeping warm.
    After we’d eaten our meal and cleaned the dishes, we sat watching Traz and sipping tea. I wondered how we’d ever complete the journey now.
    “Is there somewhere we can take him, where we can find a healer or something?” I asked.
    “Not very near,” she replied. “A few days’ journey on there’s … but, no, we can’t go there.”
    I narrowed my eyes at her. “Where? And why not?”
    She didn’t answer at first, then shook her head in a slow, almost dreamy way. “The road skirts the edges of his land, and that’s too close for comfort as it is.”
    Before I could ask her who and what she was talking about, a quiet sigh escaped Traz’s lips. We both moved nearer to him, but he still didn’t show any signs of coming around.
    I placed a hand on his chest. His breathing was smooth and regular, his heartbeat strong.
    “No fever,” Shandry said after feeling his forehead and cheeks. “Not yet anyway.”
    “I’d feel better if he weren’t unconscious,” I said, unable to keep the worry out of my voice.
    Shandry half-smiled and said, “He wouldn’t.”
    In other circumstances, I would’ve laughed.
    My hand still on Traz’s chest, I closed my eyes. The beat of his heart traveled up my arm and into my spirit. It was a strong rhythm, like a large festival drum. My own heart changed its beat to match. As I concentrated on feeling what Traz felt, an unexpected joy welled up inside me, threatening to overflow and break into a dance of celebration.
    This couldn’t be Traz. Surely