“Juneau, I did everything for your good, and the good of our people, I swear,” Whit says, clenching his teeth in pain. Angry red scratches from Poe’s talons crisscross his face, and the stitches in his forehead have torn. The wound from the crash is once again bleeding.
“Liar,” I yell. There is a rumbling noise coming from the direction of the forest. A noise that I recognize. I look up and see a shape lumbering toward us in the dark, and I tighten my hold on the knife, grazing the skin under Whit’s chin and watching the trickle of blood run down his neck.
Whit’s eyes narrow. “What are you going to do, Juneau? Kill me? Are you going to go against everything you’ve ever learned and murder a defenseless human being?” He is spitting out the words, daring me to do what he thinks I’m not capable of. He’s right, I think. With that realization, I make a decision. I’m leaving his fate up to Gaia. I loosen my hold on him, and stand up, straddling his body with my legs.
He stares up at me, victory written on his face. I begin to walk away.
“I knew you couldn’t do it,” he yells.
“I’m doing what I think is fair,” I say. “You didn’t kill my mom, but you let her die. I’m just returning the favor.”
Whit stares at me, confused, and then follows my gaze as I look behind him. He has time to scream once before the bear is upon him.
I turn and head toward Miles, who is coming across the lawn toward me, crossbow in hand. Tears are streaming down my face, and Miles takes me in his arms and holds me tight.
The car starts up with a roar of the engine, and reverses over the grass toward us, kicking up clods of mud as it comes. Mr. Blackwell’s face is illuminated by the interior light, and is twisted in rage.
“Your dad,” I yell. “He’s coming back for us!”
Miles whips around to look, just as a volley of gunfire blows out the car’s windows, and hits one guard who slumps, motionless, out of the passenger window. “Get us the hell out of here!” I hear Mr. Blackwell bellow. The car slams into gear, and Miles and I watch in shock as it speeds away from us. As it passes the house on its way out of the compound, its headlights illuminate the fountain, next to which Hunt Avery lies, writhing on the ground.
He holds one leg with both hands—his paper pants are soaked with rain and blood and have half disintegrated. He meets my gaze and yells, “Help me!”
I pull back from Miles and watch as Avery holds up both hands. “I swear, I’m unarmed,” he yells, and groans pitifully. None of his men are anywhere nearby.
I look at Miles, gauging his reaction. “Let him bleed out,” he says, stone-faced. I say nothing. He looks back at the pitiful spectacle and then back at me. “Ugh. We have to help him, don’t we?” he asks. I nod and we begin walking toward him.
“Okay,” Miles says as we approach, “we’re going to help move you to the garage, where your doctor is tending the wounded.” He positions himself near Avery’s head and sets our two crossbows on the ground, while I lean down to grab the injured man’s feet.
“That’s not going to happen, because I’m the one giving orders here,” Avery says, and digging a gun from beneath himself, points it at Miles’s head. I reach automatically for my knife, but Avery sees me and, cocking the trigger, says, “Drop it.”
I let the knife fall, and copying Miles, hold my hands in the air and back away. Avery presses himself against the side of the fountain, and inches up to a standing position, keeping the gun directed at Miles’s face. “You two are going to help me over to those cars over there and get me the hell out of here,” he says, gesturing to the garage.
From my left, I hear a familiar sparrow call and, without moving, shift my eyes to see Nome crouching behind a nearby boulder, just out of Avery’s sight. Amid all the chaos, she’s the only one who’s spotted what’s happening. I cock my head in Avery’s direction, prompting her to shoot him. But Nome holds up her slingshot and pouch, and shakes it to show me it’s empty.
She points to her eyes, and then away, indicating that she’s going to make a run for it to get backup. I shake my head. If she leaves her hiding place, Avery will see her and could shoot Miles.
As I rack my mind for a solution, I instinctively reach toward my neck to finger my opal like I used to in times of distress. It’s gone, I remember. And then I freeze.