Ned lingers near the edge of the woods after everyone else has dispersed. He is looking over the tilled soil as the last of the daylight fades, checking that everything is as it should be. All the equipment has been put away, all the volunteers gone home, all the seeds planted and watered and waiting for the dawn to start growing. He wishes, not for the first time, that he still had whatever power he possessed for that one brief week, to make things grow by sheer force of will. Praying won't do any good, he knows, but he looks over the rows in the ground all the same, hoping for their tenacity and success.
That reverie is interrupted by the violent report of a gunshot from within the woods. For a second, Ned freezes. Experience tells him not to go in the woods and instinct tells him to head away from the sound of gunfire. But he stays where he is. What if someone is in trouble in there? Someone he knows, someone he cares about? He thinks about Jesse, dying in the woods with no one to help him, and makes his choice.
He doesn't have to go far before he spots the two of them. Ned has never seen one of the tigers this close to the edge of the woods - never seen one of them at all, actually. Perhaps they are encroaching on the town because their prey is getting hunted by the captives, or perhaps it's the start of some new sick experiment. Maybe it's bad luck. In any case there's a saber-toothed tiger right there and a huddled body on the ground. Ned can see blood on the man's shirt, see that he's not moving.
Then he recognizes Meyer, and his stomach clenches with panic.
The tiger is creeping closer to Meyer, cautious but predatory. It is barely putting weight onto one of its back legs, and Ned spots a trickle of blood running down from its haunch. Without thinking, without further hesitation, Ned runs over, puts himself between the tiger and the curled-up body of his friend. There's a broken branch on the ground nearby and he picks it up, swinging it in front of him like a baseball bat. That's what people always did in the books - the boys' adventure and wilderness survival stories - when they ran into mountain lions. Saber-toothed tigers can't be all that different, can they?
"Why d-d-don't you p-pick on someone your own size, huh?" he bellows. The tiger hesitates, sizes him up. Ned does his best to look big and terrifying. His whole body is shaking with fear but he holds his ground. The thing must be quite hungry, or else aggravated over its injury, because it lunges for him regardless. He swings the branch, manages to hit it squarely in the ear. Pain blossoms in his arm, hot and sharp; Ned glances down to see his sleeve shredded, three long claw-marks on his upper arm.
The tiger is reeling, disoriented from the blow, and Ned spots Meyer's gun on the ground between them. He lunges for it, fires off a shot in the tiger's direction. His hands are shaking so badly that he almost misses it entirely, hitting it in one of its front paws. Apparently, that is the last straw for the thing. It turns and runs off, back into the forest, its gait unsteady.
Ned drops the gun immediately, turning back towards Meyer and sinking to his knees. The man hasn't moved, doesn't look like he's breathing.
"Shit," he says under his breath, hands hovering indecisively in the air. Should he feel for a pulse? What if he's dead and in doing so, Ned brings him back? He knows already that if he did that, he wouldn't have the heart to touch him again, to kill him a second time, and then someone else would have to die. "Oh God, please don't be dead, Meyer, c'mon. C-can you hear me?"
no subject
That reverie is interrupted by the violent report of a gunshot from within the woods. For a second, Ned freezes. Experience tells him not to go in the woods and instinct tells him to head away from the sound of gunfire. But he stays where he is. What if someone is in trouble in there? Someone he knows, someone he cares about? He thinks about Jesse, dying in the woods with no one to help him, and makes his choice.
He doesn't have to go far before he spots the two of them. Ned has never seen one of the tigers this close to the edge of the woods - never seen one of them at all, actually. Perhaps they are encroaching on the town because their prey is getting hunted by the captives, or perhaps it's the start of some new sick experiment. Maybe it's bad luck. In any case there's a saber-toothed tiger right there and a huddled body on the ground. Ned can see blood on the man's shirt, see that he's not moving.
Then he recognizes Meyer, and his stomach clenches with panic.
The tiger is creeping closer to Meyer, cautious but predatory. It is barely putting weight onto one of its back legs, and Ned spots a trickle of blood running down from its haunch. Without thinking, without further hesitation, Ned runs over, puts himself between the tiger and the curled-up body of his friend. There's a broken branch on the ground nearby and he picks it up, swinging it in front of him like a baseball bat. That's what people always did in the books - the boys' adventure and wilderness survival stories - when they ran into mountain lions. Saber-toothed tigers can't be all that different, can they?
"Why d-d-don't you p-pick on someone your own size, huh?" he bellows. The tiger hesitates, sizes him up. Ned does his best to look big and terrifying. His whole body is shaking with fear but he holds his ground. The thing must be quite hungry, or else aggravated over its injury, because it lunges for him regardless. He swings the branch, manages to hit it squarely in the ear. Pain blossoms in his arm, hot and sharp; Ned glances down to see his sleeve shredded, three long claw-marks on his upper arm.
The tiger is reeling, disoriented from the blow, and Ned spots Meyer's gun on the ground between them. He lunges for it, fires off a shot in the tiger's direction. His hands are shaking so badly that he almost misses it entirely, hitting it in one of its front paws. Apparently, that is the last straw for the thing. It turns and runs off, back into the forest, its gait unsteady.
Ned drops the gun immediately, turning back towards Meyer and sinking to his knees. The man hasn't moved, doesn't look like he's breathing.
"Shit," he says under his breath, hands hovering indecisively in the air. Should he feel for a pulse? What if he's dead and in doing so, Ned brings him back? He knows already that if he did that, he wouldn't have the heart to touch him again, to kill him a second time, and then someone else would have to die. "Oh God, please don't be dead, Meyer, c'mon. C-can you hear me?"