YoU...
"I think I should get you home as soon as possible," he
says. You briefly notice that he has a British accent before you look
down to see what was wrong; your eyes flash with surprise. There is a
gash, about six inches long, in your left thigh. You look up at the
boy, horrified. He pats your good leg reassuringly and reaches into
his pouch again. This time he pulls out a long piece of cloth and a
container of liquid. He takes the cap off of the vial and unrolls a
portion of cloth.
"What's that?" you ask suspiciously. He looks up at you,
surprised. You frown. "What? Didin't think I could talk?"
you ask sarcastically. He grins and shakes his head.
"No, it's just that I've never heard your speech before," he
explains. He picks up the container and holds it over your leg wound,
poised. "Now, this is going to sting a bit," he warns,
looking at you for approval. You nod, clench you jaw, and brace
yourself. He pours some and looks at your face for a reaction. You
bite your lip, but make no sound. He takes the cloth and begins to
wrap your leg. A cool breeze passes by and you lean into it. Sweat is
popping out on your forehead and you are greatful for the relief.
"Done," you hear a smug voice. You look down at your leg and
smile approval at bandage. It is as well done as could be expected
with the two supplies. He pulls a flask out from the bag at his waist
and offers it to you. From years of experience visiting your
grandfather's house, you recognize the smell of whiskey coming from
the bottle. You look up at him, mildly shocked, but shrug it off and
accept the drink. You choke the unfamiliar burning liquid down and
hand the flask back, eyes watering. "All right, how should we,
ah, go...?" he asks quizzically.
"Um, how far away do you live?" you ask awkwardly. He
shrugs.
"About an hour's walk from here," he says, surveying the
dirt path a few feet away. "It would be easiest if I just, er,
carried you the whole way, I think," he says, shifting his weight
uncomfortably.
"Um, of course, what ever's best for you," you say, trying
for politeness.
"Right. Can you go now, do you think?" he asks. There is an
uncomfortable distance growing between the two of you, and you aren't
sure why. You nod in response. He stands up, leans over, and picks you
up as if you weighed nothing. Your eyelids droop sleepily in his arms
and you are starting to feel the effects of the whiskey. You feel that
the momentary gap between you is closing. You smile contentedly and
fall asleep to the humming of your newfound
friend.
You squint and blink stupidly at the man. He walks toward you and you
realize a few things. First, he is not a man. In fact, he looks to be
only a few years older than you. Second, he is not as tall as you
thought. Somewhere around 6 feet. And lastly, he is not floating. He
is walking cautiously toward you with a wary expression on his face.
He stops a few feet short of you and peers suspiciously at you. You
aim for a reassuring smile and try to stand up, but the smile turns to
a painfull grimace as you put your weight on your left leg. You see
black spots before your eyes and close them to rid yourself of the
nausea. You put your arms out to balance you, but that fails and you
start to sit back down. His suspicion forgotten, the young man rushes
forward to catch you. He sets you gently on the ground. You hear a
rustling and crack an eye open. You see him rummaging through a small
bag. He pulls out a water bottle and hands it to you. You accept it
greatfully and take a long swig of the cool liquid. You hand it back
to him and he tucks it securely into the bag. He looks at your
appearance and raises an eyebrow. You look down at your clothes, then
at his, and back. While blue jean shorts, a t-shirt, and Nikes are
perfectly normal to wear in the summer in California, they are
obviously not the style here. The young man is wearing high leather
boots, what you dimly identify as "breeks", a
three-quarter-sleeved-shirt tucked into his pants, and a vest. He is
also wearing a belt that supports the small bag you saw earlier. His
eyes rest on your leg and his expression turns fearful.
