Green Desert - Chapter 4.3.4 - Fírí

Pí‘oro quickly turned and looked upwards, at the rim of the gully. He held up his hand at me. Did he hear something? Nothing but the creek and the wind and the birds. The old man gracefully uncrossed his legs and stood, eyes and ears still pointing up the slope. He must’ve heard something.

If he started snooping around looking for someone, that would be a perfect time to run.

He silently walked toward the gully wall, toward a trail up, eyes still focused upward.

I ran.

Upstream, away from Pí‘oro, away from Zhíno. Brushes grabbed at me, scratched my face and arms. I stubbed my toe on a rock, tripped on the long hem of the pants. A tangle of vines caught me, wouldn’t let go. Thorns. I scrambled forwards, ripping cloth and cutting skin.

Behind me, I heard nothing. No stomp of running feet, no shouts. But Pí‘oro was being stealthy. He could be stealthy.

I kept crawling, kicked my leg free of the last of the thorns, got to my feet, and ran. The bushes started thinning out. Running got easier. I tripped on the pants again, grabbing a small tree to keep from falling headfirst into a boulder.

I paused, breathing hard, and rolled up the oversized trousers. My feet were dirty and bloody. My left big toe throbbed. Blood pooled around the nail, flowed onto the orange soil. Pain. Sharp pain. “Fuck.”