The river's fury overpowered Samara, thrashing her in its murky embrace. Currents dragged her under, pushing her against jagged rocks and submerged branches that scratched and bruised her skin. She forced her eyes open, trying to recognize the objects passing her by, all her muscles burning as she battled against the river's rage. She regained some semblance of control and pushed her body against the current's stranglehold, swimming toward the surface.
As she broke through the water's surface, she took a sharp inhalation that filled her lungs with a mix of fresh air and mist. Her heart raced in tandem with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Glancing back, she was alarmed to find how far she drifted downstream; the frantic faces of the children diminished to mere pinpricks against the sprawling landscape.
A short distance away from her, the young child's form bobbed up and down in the water, his tiny arms flailing against the river's mighty grasp. Their eyes briefly connected before the rapids reclaimed him, dragging him further into their merciless grasp.
Instinct and adrenaline took over, and Samara dove back under and searched for him. Through the murky depths, she spotted the boy, his silhouette wavering with the current. She surged toward him, reaching out and gripping his arm just as a massive piece of driftwood barreled by, missing them by mere inches. She had propelled them with powerful kicks toward the water's surface, muscles straining and lungs burning for oxygen.
Their ascent was violently halted as the river smashed Samara against a towering boulder. Gritting her teeth as the pain sent shockwaves through her body, Samara threw out her free arm, fingers seeking a lifeline on the slick stone surface as the strong current threatened to pull them further downstream. She found a jagged crevice, and she clung on, the sharp edge digging into her skin, drawing blood. But it granted her a momentary anchor against the river's vicious force.
Driven by a primal need to save the boy, Samara harnessed her dwindling strength and pulled her way closer to the security of the rock. She felt the rough texture under her fingers, cutting deeper into her flesh. Grasping the boy tightly with one arm, her feet searched for footholds on the boulder's jagged surface. She located a small jutting aperture, and with painstaking effort, she managed to heave them both up onto the rock's sloped ledge.
Desperation had set in as she surveyed the area, seeking signs of potential aid. But the scene appeared lonely, just the river and its relentless, unforgiving roar. Letting out a resonating shout, Samara's voice strained, aiming to penetrate the ambient noise and signal anyone within earshot.
Refocusing on the child, a weight of urgency tightened in her chest. She softly nudged his shoulder, whispering, "Come on, kid. Wake up." Yet, he remained eerily still, every second amplifying her growing dread. "Please, just open your eyes," she implored, her voice raw with emotion.
Wasting no more time, she carefully positioned her injured hand over the child's mouth and nose, checking for any faint breath. Finding none, she steeled herself and leaned in, attempting to breathe life into the boy's tiny frame. A muffled shout reached her ears. Renewed hope coursed through her as she yelled back, urging the unknown saviors to quicken their pace.
The cries grew closer, but Samara didn't dare look up again. Panic surged through her as the boy continued to lie still.
Am I doing this wrong? Samara wondered, her vision blurred by the hot tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She leaned down to give the boy one last breath, her chest heavy with despair as his face paled further from when she first set him down on the rock. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice a tender apology mingling with her silent sobs.
She glanced toward the shoreline and found a large gathering of townsfolk, some atop horses, all staring at her in a curious mixture of puzzlement and concern, all having witnessed her relentless efforts to save the boy.
Just as hopelessness threatened to consume her, the boy let out a ragged gasp. His eyes blinked open, and water gushed from his mouth. Swiftly, Samara helps him to his side, her hand rhythmically patting his back, aiding him in purging the cold river from his lungs. The boy took a deep, life-giving breath, and a radiant smile of relief graced Samara's face.
Her gaze turned back toward the townsfolk, who shared the same mix of shock and relief mirrored on their faces. A man with curly red hair dismounted from his horse and strode toward the river's edge. He called out to the others on horseback, who followed his lead. The first man shouted something to Samara as they tied a long rope to the saddle of one of the horses, flinging the other end towards her.
Though she missed the rope on the first attempt, her fingers grasped it on the second. Swiftly, she tied the rope around both herself and the boy. With great care, she submerged back into the water.
The men led the horse away while the others on the shore pulled on the rope with all their strength, laboring together to quickly extricate Samara and the child from the river's grasp.
Once on land, a short, round woman hurried toward the boy, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She spoke animatedly, repeating a word like "Dell" to Samara. Soon after, a man, slightly taller than the woman, navigated his way through the onlookers and joined in the triumphant reunion. Samara couldn't help but smile at the heartwarming scene.
As Samara stood there, she felt a gentle tap on her left hand. Glancing down, she discovered the young girl from earlier placing a soft brown cloth in her hand. Noticing Samara's puzzled expression, the girl pointed to Samara's right hand, which still dripped blood from the deep cuts on her fingers. Samara managed a grateful smile. "Thank you," she stated, but then recalled their language barrier. Instead, she bowed her head, hoping to convey her appreciation. The young girl seemed to understand and returned her smile.
A man atop a striking horse approached Samara. She was mesmerized by the steed's appearance. Its coat glistened, and its powerful muscles rippled with each step, contrasting sharply with the dusty, work-worn horses she had glimpsed in town. Alighting gracefully, the man strode over to Samara and gently placed a long, brown cloak over her, shielding her drenched form from the other men's curious glances. His words were soft and musical but utterly unfamiliar to her ears. Confused, she can only offer an apologetic shrug in response.
Confusion momentarily clouded the azure depths of the young man's eyes. He tried again, enunciating every word with deliberate care, his voice rising in evident frustration. The young girl stepped forward and bridged the chasm between them with a few quiet words. As Samara watched their interaction, she discerned she must be conveying her lack of understanding to the young man. The girl's intervention seemed to satisfy him, nodding his head as he retreated towards the other assembled horse riders.
As he walked away, Samara's gaze lingered on his attire. While it harmonized with the earthy palette worn by the townsfolk, its richness and quality were undeniably superior. The cloak wrapped around her, too, felt plush and luxurious, a stark contrast to the simpler fabrics she had seen in town. Even their horses exuded regal beauty, their postures poised and majestic.
The young man's animated discussion with the red-haired rider who had assisted her captured her attention. His vibrant red hair stood out amongst everyone gathered, and his eyes, a deep emerald, were discernible even from her distance. As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned their gazes briefly, meeting. Caught off-guard, a blush crept up Samara's cheeks, and she hastily looked away. But not before noticing the amused upturn of his lips. With a commanding gesture, he signaled to the other riders, and they rode out, leaving only two of their number behind.
These two signaled to the crowd, which turned to begin their journey back up the riverbank. Samara followed, trailing at the rear.
As they ascended back up the hill, the sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the path. Samara's steps were unsteady as she walked; the earlier surge of adrenaline now faded. Her stomach growled in protest as several hours had passed since she devoured her last piece of fruit.
The memory of her breakfast reminded her that she still had one fruit left in her basket. She used that thought as motivation to persevere up the hill.
Upon reaching the peak, she broke away from the line of townsfolk making their way to the village and headed toward her tree. Locating the basket, she's overjoyed to find the bright red fruit still inside. She bit into it ravenously, sweet juices stinging her fingers as they seeped into her wounds. As she held the pit of the fruit in her hand, her stomach continued to rumble in hunger.
"Well, that was dinner," she muttered, the encroaching night air causing her to shiver.
She moved toward the tree's hollow and stepped over the tangled roots when she felt a tugging on the back of her cloak. Turning around, she came face to face with the young girl, who gestured toward the town with her hand.
Exhausted and lacking the energy to resist, Samara didn't protest the young girl's gentle tug. Besides, spending another night inside a hollowed tree didn't appeal to her. With a weary but agreeable nod, she let the girl take her hand, and together, they descended toward the town.
As Samara stepped into the town, she was aware of the townspeople's lingering gazes, but now the looks on their faces had shifted. Fear and disgust had given way to curiosity, and she could see a hint of distrust still lingered in some. Undeterred by the watchful eyes, the young girl firmly guided Samara through the crowd.
Their journey led them to a wooden house slightly taller than its neighbors. Quickly, the young girl opened the door, ushering Samara inside. The interior was modest yet inviting. To the right of the entrance was a kitchen with a wooden table and benches flanking it. A woman around Samara's height, her dark blonde hair neatly tucked into a bun, was tending to a flame. Despite her youthful appearance, the wrinkles on her face hinted at a well-lived life. With a warm smile, she welcomed Samara.
The girl finally released her hand, approached the older woman, and conversed briefly. The woman pointed towards a room across from the kitchen. The young girl gestured for Samara to follow her, and they stepped inside.
Within the room, Samara spotted two beds, each accompanied by a wooden trunk at the foot. A small desk with a chair sat against one wall. The young girl directed her toward the bed closest to the door and walked out, leaving Samara alone. Uncertain about what to do next, Samara just stood by the bed waiting expectantly.
The girl quickly returned, arms laden with a bundle of clothes. She handed them to Samara, accompanied by expressive miming that illustrated changing into the new attire. Samara smiled at the girl's impressive charade skills, nodding to signal her understanding. The girl exits once more, gently closing the door behind her.
Samara swiftly removed her soaked clothes, hanging her wet jeans and blouse over the back of the desk chair. A disquieting realization dawned on her as she examined her modern attire: her lab coat was missing!
She closed her eyes and tried to retrace her steps, recalling whether she had left it by the river's edge when they were rescued or if the current carried it away. Her hands explored the jean pockets, hoping to find the crumpled sheets of paper tucked inside. However, she knew the river's tumultuous embrace would have rendered them unreadable even if they were there.
With this heavy thought weighing on her, she stepped out of the room, her eyes on the kitchen table. Seated, there was the young girl, accompanied by a boy, and an older man on the opposite bench. When the girl spots Samara, she waves enthusiastically, patting the spot on the bench beside her as a warm invitation.
As Samara approached the table, she quickly noticed that the woman she had met earlier was nowhere to be seen. She sat next to the young girl, who smiled warmly at her. Samara nodded politely at the older man and the young boy sitting across from her, and they responded with friendly nods in return.
The older man said something to the children, prompting them to lower their heads with closed eyes and hands clasped prayer-like. Panic started to rise within Samara as she wondered, Are they praying? Not wanting to offend them inadvertently, she quickly followed suit, mimicking their posture and murmuring in unfamiliar language. When they raised their heads, Samara was relieved to do the same.
Once the prayer was over, they passed the food around and served themselves. Samara helped herself to a bit of everything. She waited for the others to begin eating before bringing her fork to her mouth, noting that the woman from earlier had never returned.
After dinner, Samara offered to help with the cleanup, but the young girl shook her head and mimed the act of sleeping. Samara complied, returning to the room where she had changed earlier. Samara slipped under the cozy covers and noticed that the blanket shared the same pattern as the cloth covering the basket she had received that morning. A warm smile graced her lips as she snuggled in, and, feeling strangely comforted, she gradually drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
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