Chapter 220: Make it stop

Chapter 220: Chapter 220: Make it stop

The hunter looked at her.

"You think it’s Rot?"

"I don’t know."

That answer made him more nervous than yes would have.

Swanly turned.

She had taken perhaps twenty steps when shouting broke out farther down the path.

"Get Nahla!"

Swanly spun.

A warrior was leaning against one of the support posts.

His face had gone gray.

One hand clutched the left side of his ribs.

"What happened?"

"Nothing!"

He sucked in a breath.

His knees nearly buckled.

Swanly hurried over.

"What hurts?"

"My side."

"Were you hit?"

"No."

"Bitten?"

"No."

The male gritted his teeth and pulled aside his hide wrap.

A long pale scar crossed his ribs.

Old.

Very old.

But the skin around it had turned angry red.

Swanly stared.

"When did you get this?"

"Years ago."

His fingers shook as they hovered over it.

"It hasn’t hurt since it healed."

Another spasm hit.

He groaned and doubled over.

The old scar tightened beneath the skin.

Not opening.

Not rotting.

But pulling so hard that the muscles around it trembled.

"Don’t touch it," Swanly said.

"It feels like..."

He swallowed.

"Like what?"

His face changed.

"Like something is pulling from inside."

Swanly’s ears flattened.

That sentence went directly into the part of her brain labeled Things I Do Not Want to Hear Before Breakfast.

Nahla arrived at a brisk walk.

"Move."

Everyone moved.

The elderly healer pressed along the warrior’s ribs, checked his eyes, gums, tongue, neck.

"No fever."

She sniffed the scar.

"No Rot smell."

The warrior’s mate stood nearby gripping her own arms.

"Then why is he hurting?"

Nahla did not answer.

Because she did not know.

Swanly looked toward the ground.

Her unease grew.

By midday, there were five complaints.

Not five identical symptoms.

That would have been easier.

One warrior’s old wound hurt.

Another male’s previously broken wrist began throbbing so badly he could barely close his hand.

A female complained that the scar where she’d once been clawed across the shoulder felt hot beneath the skin.

Then a Riverbone male stopped in the middle of carrying wood.

The logs slid from his arms.

THUD.

He grabbed both sides of his head.

The male beside him jumped.

"What?"

The Riverbone male’s eyes darted around.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

He looked confused.

Then frightened.

"Listen."

Everyone nearby stopped.

Children quieted.

A female carrying roots glanced toward the forest.

Nothing.

Wind moved through leaves.

Someone struck stone in the distance.

Normal settlement noises.

The Riverbone male whispered:

"Thoom."

His friend frowned.

"What?"

"Thoom."

He pressed both palms harder over his ears.

"It’s doing it again."

Swanly had reached them now.

"What is?"

His breathing became shallow.

"The heartbeat."

Nobody spoke.

Swanly’s skin crawled.

"What heartbeat?"

He looked down.

At the ground.

"Under us."

Someone behind Swanly immediately stepped backward.

Another person whispered:

"Don’t say that."

The man suddenly shouted:

"THERE!"

Half the people around him flinched.

He looked from face to face.

"You didn’t hear it?"

No one answered.

His fear became worse.

"None of you heard that?"

A woman grabbed her cub and pulled the child against her legs.

Raku pushed through the gathering crowd.

"Everyone back."

The male looked at him desperately.

"It’s under us."

Raku’s expression remained hard.

"How many times?"

"I don’t know."

"Since when?"

"This morning."

Swanly stepped closer.

"Does your head hurt?"

"No."

"Fever?"

"No."

"Old injuries?"

The male hesitated.

"My shoulder."

He touched it.

An old bite scar.

Normal animal bite.

Years old.

Swanly’s stomach sank another inch.

She looked at Raku.

He had noticed too.

They did not speak.

They did not need to.

By afternoon, Ironwood was no longer relaxed.

People watched one another.

Mothers pulled children closer.

A sneeze made heads turn.

Someone coughing over smoke suddenly found three warriors staring at him.

Nobody wanted to say infection.

Because everyone in Ironwood knew what that word could mean.

Then a woman collapsed beside the food shelter.

Her basket overturned.

Roots rolled across the dirt.

A scream cut through the settlement.

"ENA!"

Swanly ran.

Several others got there first.

The female was on the ground, trembling so hard her teeth clicked.

Her mate dropped beside her.

"Ena?"

"Don’t touch her yet!" Nahla snapped.

He froze with his hands inches from his mate.

His face twisted.

"She’s my mate!"

"And if this is Rot, you’ll become another patient!"

That stopped him.

Barely.

Swanly crouched on the other side.

The woman’s face was flushed almost crimson.

Sweat soaked her hair.

She breathed through parted lips.

"Cold..."

Swanly stared.

"You’re burning."

"I’m cold."

A violent shiver tore through her.

Her fingernails scratched the dirt.

Her mate made a broken sound.

"Nahla, do something."

"I am."

Nahla wore something to protect her hands and pulled the woman’s eyelid down.

Normal.

She checked her mouth.

Normal.

Behind her ears.

Her throat.

Her arms.

Her legs.

Her back.

Everywhere.

"Help me turn her."

Two females helped.

They searched every inch of exposed skin.

Swanly checked too.

Nothing.

No bite.

No scratch.

No black veins.

No rotting wound.

Nothing.

The woman’s nose suddenly began bleeding.

Her mate gasped.

A thin red line ran over her upper lip.

Then another.

"Why is she bleeding?"

Nahla grabbed cloth and pressed it beneath her nose.

"Hold still."

The female’s eyes rolled toward Swanly.

"I can hear it."

Swanly’s blood went cold.

"What?"

Her lips trembled.

"Boom."

Nobody breathed.

She swallowed.

"Boom."

Her mate looked around wildly.

"What is she talking about?"

The woman squeezed her eyes shut.

"Make it stop."

Swanly stared at the earth.

The memory of Eira’s tiny hand against stone flashed through her mind.

THOOM.

No.

Not yet.

She would not jump to conclusions.

"Nahla."

The healer looked at her.

"Keep her away from everyone else for now."

The mate immediately protested.

"No!"

Swanly looked at him.

"I’m not saying she’s infected."

"Then why separate her?"

"Because I don’t know what she has."

His jaw tightened.

Swanly’s voice softened.

"You can stay where she can see you."

He stared at her.

Then at his trembling mate.

Finally he nodded.