surely down the hill as he could.
KEEL CAREENED AROUND A bend as he followed the winding path strewn with plants and greenery down to the village below, the sharp boots behind him pounding several feet away. They could run, but he vowed they would never find them. Pearl’s weight began to grow upon him, but he pushed the thought away. There was no time to think of the disadvantages now, not when everything proved to be in his favor.
As he passed the next turn, he veered to the right and into the foliage, hoping that with the bends in the road, he would have enough time to hide them within the bushes until the chase was called off. Just as like the schools of fish do in the ocean when escaping a larger predator, Keel chose the darkest, most covered spot to hide in several feet away from the trail. It was beneath low-hung branches of a tall, spindly tree.
Panting from the exertion, he laid the still listless Pearl down on her side upon the dank floor and then went into action, covering their small hiding spot with the branches he could quickly grab just around them to disguise any bits of color seeping through.
All the extra worry was for naught.
Keel was shocked to hear the sound of several loud, booted feet as they charged past, still keeping to the path. Peeking through an opening, he could make out the matching clothing of the prince and many men who followed him.
Their pace was swift, but had slowed down to a more methodical rhythm, almost as if they were simply biding their time.
Did they recognize he had veered off the road and was even now hidden away?
Knowing royal strategy as he did, they had more than likely given up the chase altogether and were going to align themselves across the beach and wait for them to escape.
Keel sighed. There was nothing he could do about that now. Neither he nor Pearl were in any state to be able to beat them to the oceanfront.
Pearl!
Good heavens, he nearly forgot. Keel sat on the ground and tugged upon her shoulders. Then he gently lifted her until her head lay facedown across his leg. Tenderly, he touched her open wound and grimaced once more at the atrocious sight before him. The darker blood clashed horridly against her vivid hair, now matted and moist.
She needed the healing saltwater of the ocean to help this mess, and he had no notion of how to get it to her.
He ran his hand down her arm and clutched her wrist. His heart clenched when through his own racing pulse, he could feel nothing in her. But he did not let go. He could not. There was still hope. She could not have been killed by these monstrous beings before he could begin his life with her.
He refused to believe it.
Gingerly, he dressed her wound, his hands shaking as they removed hair and debris to uncover the large, glaring slash. Leaning over, he lifted her skirt a few inches, found the clean white linen beneath, and ripped one of the ruffled sections right off. Then he wrapped it tightly around the exposed wound and her forehead, tying it securely. Concern marred his heart as he watched the blood slowly seep through the fabric.
But it was that pulsing blood that gave him hope. Reaching down, he grasped her wrist again, and this time, with his own heart rate settled a bit more, he was able to feel hers. Faint, but slow and steady. It would seem she was in a sleep-like state. He felt so helpless in those minutes when he held her and rocked back and forth, willing her to wake up.
It was not until sometime later when he began to feel his first real pangs of hunger strike him. How long had it been since either of them had eaten?
Probably twenty-four hours had passed since they partook of the seaweed meal before he first transformed. Typically, merfolk could go two or three days without sustenance, but with the changes to their bodies and environment, they would need a meal very, very soon.
In fact, without the saltwater Pearl needed or some other sort of nourishment, she might become even more ill. Or worse
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