Prevna’s parting words came back to me as I lay trapped underneath the idiotic dead festerling. And with them, the memory of her hug.

Claustrophobia didn’t claw at me like it would have if I was in a narrow space or structure despite there being significantly less room for me to move in my current position. I could see the sunlight filtering down through the woodland’s branches a bare foot from my face. I knew there was wide open space all around me—as long as I could get free of the body.

Nothing was reminiscent of that particular tent or judging eyes or the other memories that liked to ambush me when they could. If there had been, I doubted Prevna’s well meaning actions could have broken into my thoughts. The memories would have been too overwhelming.

Granted, if the festerling’s delirium inducing spit managed to soak through my pant leg or find a crack, the pressure of being pinned and crushed might trigger the reaction anyway. The thought of Fern or Breck finding me trapped in one of the memories was even less appealing than one of them having to free me from being pinned.

It couldn’t be allowed to happen.

As it was though, I was stuck with few options and the distracting memory of Prevna instead. It was…disconcerting to realize that she had slipped into the same category in my mind as Rawley and Fellen. Touch tolerated and sometimes even comforting, connection dangerously close but I wasn’t able to entirely cut it, didn’t want to, and they were reliable. I didn’t have to watch every move and mood to guess where the situation might be going next. Even if they did surprise me, I could tru—they probably wouldn’t intentionally hurt me.

Not unless I struck the first blow.

My mouth tasted sour then, and I deliberately set the uncomfortable thoughts aside to focus on my current problem. My spit soaked leg with the bad ankle was the biggest contributor keeping me in place, but it was also keeping the festerling’s body partially off the ground and off balance. That could give me the leverage I needed to get free.

There was also the question of which direction I should try to escape to. The festerling had moved while I was stabbing it and I had been too focused on staying in place and killing it that I hadn’t been able to track how close or far it had died to a pine tree’s shadow. I could be where one fell now, but with the festerling’s body and shadow blocking my access to it. Or we could be in one of the open patches between the trees. The sunlight I could see indicated the latter, but I tried to will myself into the shadow covering me anyways.

Nothing happened. Not that that was surprising given that it hadn’t felt like a gateway.

If I couldn’t slip into the shadow paths, then rolling free was my best bet. Since I could see the ground to my left I decided to roll in that direction when I got the chance. Better clear ground I could see than risk trapping myself further for a shadow that might not be there.

I tried to rock the creature with my current position, but the way my leg and arm were bent to hold onto the festerling’s shell didn’t let me put much strength into the side-to-side motion.

I grimaced and did my best not to think what I was pressing through as I pressed my left leg up into the festering wound. It was one thing to deal with wounds when I was healing and a very different thing to feel things slip and squish against my foot until it pressed up against the inner back of the creature’s shell.

With my leg fully extended, and my bruised hip protesting, I could lift some of the creature’s oppressive weight off of me. There was bit of blind fumbling as I attempted to slip my knife back into my belt and, after nicking my leg once, I got it into its sheath. Then I used both hands to properly hold onto the edge of the festerling’s wound and start to rock back and forth.

I gritted my teeth against the blunt pain of the festerling’s dense bulk grinding back and forth against my shin. I could get myself out of this stupid situation.

Left and right. Left and right until the spider abdomen was lifting as far as it could in either direction until the opposite side hit the ground. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough for this step.

On the last side-to-side rock, I heaved upward as much as could with my good leg. As soon as I felt the weight lift from my bad one, I pulled it towards me and pressed my newly free foot up against the festerling’s body. There hadn’t been enough height or time for me to roll free. This way though I had more power and leverage to create both.

I pulled my good leg free of the body and got it placed on the festerling’s underside just as my bad ankle threated to buckle. I gritted my teeth and kept both feet in place. Despite my body vocally protesting the activity, between using both my legs and arms I was able to shove the body one direction and then quickly roll in the other.

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Warm sunlight blinded me for a moment as the body thumped down a handful of inches from my face. Just to add insult to injury, one the spider legs hit me in the side. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, but my mood soured further.

I laid there a few moments longer than I should, savoring the feeling of freedom. A sense that was quickly ruined when I tried to stand and walk away from the dangerous area. I went down just as quickly as I went up.

My ankle refused to take any more weight and I could tell that a large bruise was developing on my shin. My hip, the one that had been shoved sideways through a spear shaft, refused to be the sole bearer of my weight.

I hit the ground in pure frustration. My inability to walk wasn’t exactly novel given that I seemed to have a tendency to hurt my legs and all my years as a healer’s apprentice had warned against the continued abuse. But I had needed to get out from under the body and now I needed to get out of the area.

Being so vulnerable out from under the body was worse than still being trapped under it, in terms of pure physical protection. The festerlings that had been reluctant to investigate their dead brethren would have easy access to me now if they came back.

I could hole up in the shadow paths, but I couldn’t use them to get back to our little base, to shorten the distance, and I wouldn’t be able to spend the time in them to heal on my own. Especially without healing craft. With how badly I twisted my ankle and bruised my hip, they’d probably take weeks to heal on their own. Depending on how terribly I had hurt them, if I kept abusing them, and how good the healer was, they might not be fully healed by the time our deadline to find the Rookery was due. I’d need sleep. More likely, if I chose to hide out in the shadow paths, I’d be able to stay just long enough for my bruises to make my joints stiffen and limit mobility even further.

So much for any plans I had of actively participating in the next rescue mission. Those had just been dashed. Not that that meant I wouldn’t find a way for the storming festerlings to pay. I didn’t like that we were losing time and resources that we might need on our hunt for the Rookery.

I scowled and let a harsh breath out through my nose.

So.

Either I found something to help support my weight so I could walk or I had to face the indignity of crawling back to our hideout. There was also the chance of Fern or Breck coming to find me, but I didn’t want to wait here or be rescued.

I had come up with the plan; I didn’t want to undermine it or prove myself incompetent by being the only one to be unable to follow through.

I swept my gaze around the area but I didn’t find convenient branches or sturdy sticks that the festerlings might have knocked loose. Then my gaze fell on the slapdash claw trap I had made with festerling legs. Those ones had been cut down to size to use in the trap from the bodies of our first fight with the creatures, but the festerling I killed still had all its legs attached.

And one of those legs had hit me.

It didn’t take me long to cut through the joint with my knife. After that I used some of the torn vines from the trap to help tie the second joint in place. I left its ankle joint alone since letting the foot bend would give me more balance.

Everything was a resource and all that.

My hip still protested when I went to stand again, but with the addition of the spider leg I didn’t collapse into a heap.

I kept as close to the trees’ shadows as I could as I painfully, slowly, made my way back towards our hideout.

- -

I stared a bit blankly at the empty stand of bushes. My mind felt numb from aching pain and fatigue, but I knew this was the correct cluster. Two low hills forming a dip that held bushes with prickly thin branches. But there was no supplies and no one inside.

I lowered myself carefully to the ground as I tried to process through what might have happened.

If the festerlings had found the spot they wouldn’t have taken the supplies as well. They didn’t have a use for them. The supplies should also have still been there if everyone had been captured by them.

Which meant someone had moved them…and that hadn’t been part of the plan. I didn’t want to believe the others would have abandoned me. Not that it seemed likely after Breck’s distraction and the fact I thought it would take longer for those that had been captured to come back to themselves. Breck and Fern would be painfully slowed down if they left me while still dealing with unconscious or disorientated people.

They could have also abandoned the location due to safety reasons. It wasn't that far from the festerlings’ nesting ground. But I wasn’t in the condition to track them down. If there were even tracks.

Frustration bubbled behind my ribs. At least, it would be easier for Breck or Fern to find me here and not nearly as humiliating.

I dragged myself and my makeshift walking stick into the small space hidden by the bushes before letting myself collapse completely onto the ground. I wasn’t looking forward to the weeks left of travel we had to do.

I took a bit of time to wipe what spit I could off my pant leg and then, even though I knew better, I slipped into a doze.

It could have been minutes or hours later when I heard the bushes rustle. My hand went to my knife and pulled it free before I was fully aware. That’s when I saw Fern, my knife a few inches from her nose.

I let my head thump back to the ground and put my knife away. “You’re here.”

She let out a long breath, somewhere between annoyance and startled by my reaction. “You look terrible.”

That was hardly surprising between the injuries I sustained, and festerling blood and guts. So I ignored her comment to ask, “Did you get everyone?”

Fern smiled a little. “We got one more than we expected, but you’ll see that when we get back to the new camp. The festerlings started scouting the area more after we attacked.”

“Shadow paths?”

She nodded. “I rested some, so I can take you back that way.”

I did my best to leave the bushes as quietly and skillfully as possible, so she wouldn’t notice how injured I was. Between my stiffened joints, a handful of muttered curses, and the need to wrangle the festerling leg through the bushes after me, I don’t think that particular mission was as successful as I pretended it to be.

When Fern’s eyebrows raised at my makeshift walking stick I just glowered back at her and said, “It needed it less than I did.”

Then she held out her hand, I took it, and she pulled me into the shadow paths.