Tale's Of Larkin
Hawthorn's Discovery
[Except]
|
The Rescuers
Rush spent some time discussing the plan to attempt to rescue Poke
and Hawthorn with the leaders of the relief party that had come to their
aid. He also told them everything that had happened so they could
report it to the Shaman at the Keep. Rush then checked on their two
wounded companions. Both were doing well, Hawk surprisingly so. He
had drunk two containers of warm meat broth, and his wound was
freshly dressed. Rush noticed there was more color in his face and he
actually seemed stronger.
Flint’s leg had been resplinted, and some fresh clothes were put on
him. He was trying to eat and answer questions from the others about
his fight with the dragon. The fact that he couldn’t remember the fight
did not seem to keep him from giving a detailed account of his heroic
exploits.
Receiving what supplies their friends could spare, Rush, Savin,
Sycamore, and Jay loaded their packs. They also took two of the six
lances the relief party brought with them. Bidding farewell to their
comrades, the four rescuers plunged into the forest with Rush in the
lead. Even though the trail was cold, it was still easy for them to follow.
Their attackers hadn’t expected any of them to survive, so they had
put little effort in covering their trail. They had only been following the
trail a short while when they came to an abandoned camp site. The
others waited as Rush carefully examined the area. He ranged quickly
back and forth across the small clearing, and then he circled the
perimeter, stopping occasionally to examine the ground. Finally, he
trotted over to his friends.
“They must have brought both of the young ones here,” Rush
began, “’cuz the group that took Hawthorn and the main body of
warriors who attacked us returned here. Hawthorn’s captors came in
along this trail we followed, and the rest of the cowards came in from
over there.” He pointed off to the northeast side of the clearing. “They
licked their wounds here, then the whole mess of ‘em took off yonder to
the south.”
“How far behind them are we?” asked Savin.
Rush just shook his head. “Fellers, they got a head start on us you
ain’t gonna believe.”
“How much of a head start?” Jay scowled.
“They didn’t make a fire last night,” Rush offered.
“What does that mean?” Jay asked again.
“It means,” moaned Savin, “that they came back here to regroup and
bind their wounds, then they left.”
“You mean . . .” Jay began, his eyes getting wide as realization
struck him.
“Yes,” Savin answered the question before it was asked, “they’ve
been traveling all night.”
“So what are we gonna do?!”
“We’re gonna hurry,” Rush said matter-of-factly. He then took off at a
quick trot, leading the way down the trail taken by the retreating
Renegades. He had to slow the pace at more frequent intervals than he
wanted because Jay was having a hard time keeping up. He had been
running all night, and it was beginning to tell on him.
It was at one of these slower times that they passed by a large, moss-
covered, rotting log lying on their left, parallel to the trail they were
following. There were several large clumps of moss in front of them and
on their right. Rush was leading, weaving his way between and around
the moss patches, when suddenly something wet and sticky slapped
him hard across the face and chest. Instantly he was jerked off his feet
and yanked violently to his right. Before he even had time to react, he
found himself head first and waist deep in the mouth of a large leopard
frog.
The others were completely caught off guard by the suddenness of
the attack. Sycamore had been right behind Rush. He had noticed a
sudden movement behind the moss clump on the right, but before he
could say anything, Rush disappeared. Running forward a few steps,
he leaped around the clump, lance at the ready.
All he could see of Rush was his hips and legs kicking wildly out of
the huge amphibian’s mouth. Rush’s backpack and shield were making
it difficult for the toad to swallow him. He could see Rush groping for the
knife he kept in his right boot.
Sycamore hefted his lance and charged. He buried the lance head
deep into the creature’s soft, white throat. The toad’s response was
immediate. Throwing itself backwards, the wounded creature blasted
out a painful roar which sent Rush flying out of its mouth. Rush landed
with a soggy thud on some moss a short distance away. Savin and Jay
quickly ran to his aid.
Sycamore was jerked forward off his feet, but he managed to retain
his grip on the lance, which pulled free when the injured frog jumped
back. Quickly scrambling to his feet and readying his lance for the frog’s
next attack, Sycamore began backing toward his friends.
Rush was filthy and his ribs hurt, but otherwise he seemed all right.
“You okay?” Sycamore asked Rush, never taking his eyes off the
frog, which was clawing at its injured throat.
“Oh, I’m just dandy!” Rush said sarcastically as he tried to draw his
sting from its sheath. “I’ve got so much toad slobber on me I can’t hold
on to anything.”
“We need to get out of here!” Sycamore said nervously, still
watching the frog which was now eyeing them menacingly.
“Quick! This way!” said Jay, heading back the way they had come.
“No! Stop!” commanded Rush. “If we run that way, that hungry fly
sucker’ll be on us in two hops.”
“So what do we do? Fight him?”
“No, not unless we have to,” Rush responded, jerking his head
around looking for a defensive position.
“Here he comes!” shouted Sycamore as the frog began moving
towards them, positioning itself to strike.
“Everyone move back to the log,” Rush ordered. “Keep both lances
forward.”
Savin, who was carrying the other lance, moved up next to
Sycamore.
Rush continued, “Jay, cover us with your bow. Okay, everyone, let's
move back toward the log.”
Moving together, the four Larkin began backing toward the huge,
rotting log behind them. The leopard frog moved also, stalking them.
Rush was searching the bottom of the log for some way of escape
when he suddenly found it. “Left! Move more to the left.” Without
looking back, the others followed Rush’s directions.
Soon the massive log was looming over them. Rush quickly unslung
his own bow and put an arrow to the string. “Alright, Jay, you first!”
Rush ordered.
Jay looked back at the base of the log and saw that the ground
dipped a little in one spot, allowing a small opening under the log to the
other side. Quickly he lowered his bow and wiggled under the log.
“Savin, you’re next!” Rush barked, moving up to take Savin’s place
next to Sycamore.
Savin moved back to the opening and quickly slid his lance, butt
first, under the log, then dove after it.
“Now you, Syc!” said Rush.
“Don’t you think I should cover you with the lance?” Sycamore
countered.
“No! You’d never make it under the log with that lance if you came
last. We’d either lose you or the lance. I’ll cover you with my bow.
Besides, I got a special place in my heart for this ol’ mud mucker, and I
want to have a word of prayer with him before I leave. Now go!”
Immediately Sycamore turned for the hole, pausing to shove the
lance through first. Behind him, he heard a quick, thumping sound, then
a terrible croaking roar. He had his orders, so he didn’t waste time
looking back. He launched himself through the hole to clear the way for
Rush.
As soon as Sycamore had turned from Rush to move to the opening
under the log, the leopard frog made its move. In two quick leaps, the
spotted predator charged the lone Larkin. Rush stood his ground and
released his arrow, launching his missile into the back of the huge,
gaping mouth. There was a tremendous roar as the arrow sank deep
into the soft, tender flesh in the back of the frog’s throat. As the frog
again clawed furiously at his mouth and throat, Rush made his escape.
As his head popped out of the hole on the back side of the log, friendly
hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him through.
“Well, did you have your word of prayer with him?” Sycamore asked.
“Yes, I did,” Rush replied with a smile, “and he said he was sorry."
