Green Desert - Chapter 3.3.1 - Fírí

Pí‘oro ran through a doorway, Zhíno’s head barely missing the jamb.

“Be careful!” I got to the door. A bedroom, boxes and papers piled on the made bed, the dresser, the floor.

Pí‘oro stood at the window, his back to me, Zhíno’s arms dangling. Something odd about his arms, but I couldn’t place it. The window slid open. Pí‘oro pushed out the screen.

“Come here. Help me with him.” The large man put one of his legs through the open window.

I rushed around the bed, reaching out my one free hand––the other had Zhíno’s clothes––and put it on my boyfriend’s head, making sure it didn’t hit the window.

Pí‘oro lifted Zhíno’s limp legs through and then his own leg so he sat on the sill, Zhíno’s butt bright in the sunlight. “Watch his arms,” the old man ordered.

I squatted down, grabbed Zhíno’s wrists, lifted. It hit me. What was wrong. No injuries. No bullet wounds. No broken wrist. Vata had healed him. But the dog––I glanced at it over my shoulder––still lived. What had she sacrificed instead?

Pí‘oro hopped out the window and I almost didn’t react quick enough, lifting Zhíno’s healthy arms over the sill and letting go. The big man landed softly on his feet, turned. “Hurry!”

I raised my foot onto the sill and through. “But I don’t have shoes!”

“There’s no time.”

From the hallway door, Vata snapped, “Stop.”