“Guys, run in slalom to the fourth row!” The wolves were already making their way to our destination after Rory yelled - Amy and Milo, who were on their backs, gripped their fur for dear life. We all follow behind, not as fast as the two beasts, whereas my Munchkin was pretty much right behind them. Her exhibition of athleticism, as a nerdy potato couch who never did anything too strenuous physically, was jarring. My aching legs were reaching failure, it was my brain and hormones that made them move. I had no idea why we were running, but I wasn’t about to stop and ask questions. From what I observed, Rory had some keen instincts that could rival Loki’s and Thor’s. I saw how her elvin ears would react when she heard inconspicuous noises or when alert. She would make herself taller, tilting her chin upward; her eyes would close slightly; and her breath would slow down.

She made her way to an old, rusty double-decker with no windows, where the two canines were waiting with our friends off their backs. Amy was on the ground, yowling in pain, with Milo supporting her. An arrow was sunken into the side of her left thigh. While Rory fiddled with the bus door, Percy and I helped our friend up. The wolves covered our backs with their colossal bodies, and even so, I saw past them, on the top of a motor home, a man armed with a crossbow shooting at us. The arrow zoomed towards us with lightning speed - today’s temperamental gust deflected the arrow - and it skirted Percy’s arm before plummeting into the ground.

It was in a befuddled state that we were ushered into the old vehicle, the inside was dark. We could see our friend’s injury much less see the other party members. There was some stirring, followed by the sound of a garage door opening, a motor roaring, and some light filtering into the impregnable bus. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the windscreen, which had previously been covered with a metal sheet, now become a one-way glass window. Rory was sitting in a large, well-padded brown leather chair, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear lever. Her short legs reached the accelerator perfectly, and in seconds, we were moving in the direction of the exit.

A groan of pain escaped Amy’s lips, Percy had succeeded in dislodging the arrowhead from her leg. The injury wasn’t that serious - the tip was dull and hence didn’t go as far - but without the proper care, it could get infected and be more life-threatening than it really is. Using his bare hands, my friend applied as much pressure as he could on the injury.

“Donatello, look in the cupboard on my left. There is a medical kit in there.” My eyes followed where her hand pointed, where the windshield stopped, and on the left side was a cabinet made of natural pine wood. Crawling closer to it, I grabbed the metal handles in my hand and whisked the door open. Some water boots rested on the bottom shelf as well, and other shoes and slippers of all kinds adorned the upper shelf. In the far right corner, there was a black duffle bag. I hastily seized the bag and opened it. I found rolls of bandages of varying sizes, tapes, small tins of salves, scissors, tweezers, small alcohol bottles with handmade labels, scalpels, syringes, and other things I couldn’t quite name.

I dragged myself back to Amy, her girlfriend was sitting behind her, acting like a beanbag, while the rest of the group crowded around the two with worried faces. I handed the alcohol and clean cloth I found to Percy for him to start disinfecting the wound, so I could find the right size bandage and something to stitch the wound. I looked through every pocket and every nook and cranny, and I finally found some surgical needles with treads in a pouch. As I readied myself, I peaked at Percy’s process; the wound didn’t bleed as much as earlier, and the injury looked somewhat better.

The needle was threaded, and my hand was rubbed raw with alcohol. I pinched the surrounding skin of Amy’s gash before piercing her flesh. Making sure that each time I dove in, I stayed in her skin layer, I sewed it shut in no time, and when I cut the thread, everyone let out a sigh of relief and hugged their friend tightly. The bandage I chose was on the wooden floor. I picked it up and dressed the wound. Amy, who had been extremely cooperative despite the pain she went through - was sluggishly reposing on Mira, sweating bullets - was breathing heavily and still managed to give us a small smile.

As I came down from my rush of stress, I took a glance around, taking in the interior of the bus. 

Holly shit!