Scar Read Online Free Page B

breath. I have to keep my wits. I’m in better condition than Scar and must be the one to fetch water, and perhaps a little food, in the morning. I should start to think about how I’ll move him, too. We can’t stay in the woods forever. Maybe I’ll find some of our men down by the river. Maybe I’ll find some of Scar’s. Before I can really think about this, Scar cries out again.
    I roll over and push up off the ground, managing to climb to my knees. Hunching over to keep from disturbing the musket ball, I scoot toward him. He’s calling to someone in his language. Words fly out of him in short, loud bursts. It sounds like he’s trying to explain something. I can’t make out anything he’s saying.
    I lean over his face and try to bring him back to me. “Scar, Scar, it’s Noah,” but this is ridiculous, of course hedoesn’t know my name or the name I made up for him. His strange words come faster and his hysteria grows.
    â€œScar!” I pick up his hand. “Scar!” Ridiculous or not, it makes me feel more secure to call him by my made-up name. “You’re all right, Scar.”
    He continues his babbling. His breathing is back to a wet gurgle. His eyes won’t focus. I don’t like this. I want him to stop.
    I put down his hand and crawl for the canteen, the pain stealing my breath … my sight. I tell myself that it hurts so badly because I’m tired. All I need is a little rest. I’ll be better by morning.
    My knee finds the canteen. Yanking it open, I return to his side and try to make him drink. But it’s impossible. He won’t have anything to do with it. Pulling the dressing from the waist of my trousers, I dump water on it and wipe the sweat from Scar’s face. He shivers and continues to mutter frantically, like he’s begging me, or someone, for something.
    â€œI’m here, Scar, I’m right here. Remember me?” I put my face into his. He stops and seems to see me. I try to take advantage of the moment. “Scar, it’s me, remember? My name is Noah, Nooo-ahhh,” I tell him slowly. “I’m going to take care of you. In the morning I’ll bring us water from the river, and maybe search out some food.” I remember that most of the militia was carrying journey cake, bread, cherries, figs, and the like. I’m sure I can find one of our sacks abandoned in the woods. My mind instantly turns to what else I might find in the woods—those who did not willingly abandontheir sacks. But my thoughts are interrupted by Scar’s howls echoing against my chest.
    â€œPlease,” I plead, “everything is fine.”
    But it’s not fine. This is not a good thing, this madness. I almost feel like joining him in losing all sense. It has got to feel better than this cold tingling blowing through me. I don’t know what to do. But I can’t listen to this much longer.
    I look out into the night. I can only see a few feet in all directions. I begin to imagine what could be hiding just beyond my line of sight, like the long barrel of a musket pointed at my head, or the raised, sharp blade of a hatchet—or worse, wolves. And if these imaginings of mine don’t know we’re here, Scar’s incessant prattle will surely alert them. He has to stop.
    I grab him by the shoulders and give him a shake. I mean to shake him gently, but out of fear, I do it violently, shouting right into his face.
    â€œSCAR!”
    He screams so loudly that I stumble backward, covered in goose bumps and sweat. My stomach rolls. “No,” I whisper, but it’s useless to try and stop it. I quickly drag myself away from him. My chest heaves, and it’s like I’m being gored by a hundred hot bayonets, and I vomit … and vomit.
    I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning, and even then, it was only some dried beans and a little bread, so my body wrenches over and over,