The Survival of Two

Eye for an Eye

The moment she hit the ground, Osha wrenched out of his grasp, dropping her saber and frantically turning away. She doubled over, coughing hoarsely—fear constricting her lungs. Her head was spinning from her fall, and she shut her eyes tight, hoping to keep herself from vomiting. She clasped the mossy soil, anchoring her shaking body. She tried desperately to calm her heaving breaths, too overwhelmed to rear back when she felt a light touch settle along her spine. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles between her shoulder blades, and she felt her body begin to still against the gentle, repetitive motion. Unclenching her fist from the moss, she brushed off the small, jagged stones that stuck in her palm. She wiped her brow with her forearm, clearing the thin sheen of sweat that dampened her face. She brushed off her other hand, pulling them both into her lap as she slowly sat up. She turned back to Qimir, embarrassment written across her face. He let his hand linger on her shoulder for a moment before drawing it away.

She wanted to break through the heavy silence, but no words came to her. She simply stared back at him, like an animal confronted with the point of an arrow. She watched as he stood and retrieved his saber, hooking it onto his belt. He reached down, offering her his hand. Suddenly, she was paralyzed again—afraid that the ground would fall away from her the moment she stood. Blood was still rushing in her ears, her throat still raw from her heaving; her whole body was alight with adrenaline, and couldn't do anything but cower, petrified.

Seeing the panic still in her face, Qimir sat down beside her. Again, his hand found her back, tracing the same wide circles. He looked down at her, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she didn't, he pulled his hand away, simply sitting beside her.

Still trapped in the oppressive silence, Qimir looked down at his leg. He drew his knee up into a sharp angle, leaving his foot planted on the ground. He winced as he bent his leg, examining the underside of his thigh. Caught off guard by his hissing intake of breath, Osha looked over in time to watch him pull apart the edges of a burnt slash in his pants, inspecting a raw wound. It cut diagonally across the back of his thigh, shallow enough not to cause lasting harm, but deep enough to be painful.

"Your saber caught me as you fell."

Her head snapped up, finally meeting his eyes—her face filled with guilt.

"I can't particularly commend you for it. An opponent wouldn't have caught you. You wouldn't have had the opportunity to make a similar strike."

She dropped her gaze, trying not to focus on the darkened, blistered gash. Letting his knee fall to the side to get a better view, Qimir hovered his hand above the ugly, weeping wound. He breathed deeply as he passed his hand over it, and Osha watched in stunned silence as the skin slowly knit itself back together. The broken, blistered laceration dulled from an angry shade of crimson, fading until the only trace of his injury was his charred pants and a pale reddish scar. She observed as he ran his finger along the blackened, curled edge of the fabric; the singed cut was clean and straight, just like the scar that now ran down his leg.

"I'm sorry," Osha choked out.

"Don't be."

"But I hurt you—"

"Just as easily could've been you. It's part of the risk."

"But—"

"You fell because of me. You have nothing to apologize for. An eye for an eye."

She was taken aback. He wasn't necessarily wrong. When he charged toward her that final time, the only thought left in her mind was to run. She didn't have the capacity to realize how far he'd already pushed her from the center of the stones. She couldn't see that she was only a few paces from the edge. She'd taken the final step, but it was his brutality that had brought her to that point. She pushed the thought away, not wanting to remember his aggression.

She watched as he stood, subtly favoring his wounded leg. Hoping to disguise his grimace, he turned away as he rose, only looking back to Osha once he'd come to rest with his weight on his uninjured leg. Unsure of her motivation, she offered him her hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She watched the slight wrinkle of his brow—a tell that he was in more pain than he wanted her to see. She turned away, collecting her saber from the ground beside her. She glanced back at him before starting down the hill, leaving him to follow.