Gone Wrong

Stung

231.03.29 | 3:53 p.m.

"Hold on!", Newt shouted. "I'm with you in no time!"

"Bloody hell, what are these?", she muttered, her face white as a sheet, while she clung to the ivy with her other hand.

Newt was now close enough to hear her, even though she had not much more than whispered that. "Beetle Blades, we call them. Bloody little spies they are." He pulled up a little more, carefully watching out for the small cylindrical creatures. "Here, I'm with you now. They give you a nasty sting, but that doesn't last long. Can you climb down now?"

She glowered at him, bit her teeth, and tried to grasp a vine with her stung hand. But the hand felt like somebody else's, numb until she touched anything with it. Then another flash of pain nearly caused her to lose her grip.

She breathed in and out a few times, then carefully slung a vine around her right arm. Then she nodded to Newt.

But the boy shook his head. "You must be shuckin' insane. I am here to help you."

Through clenched teeth she pressed: "I got up here alone. I will go down without help, too, thanks all the same."

She let go of the ivy vine she had been grasping with her left hand – and would have fallen, had not Newt anticipated exactly this to happen and caught her neatly by the shirt.

Angrily she glared at him.

"I will now help you down. And then you're in for it, believe me." With these words he gripped her right arm to allow her releasing her left hand and finding a new grip a foot down the wall.

While they slowly made their way down Kat glanced at Newt sideways. No swearwords any more. He must be really mad at me. This bothered her, and she wondered why.

Half an hour later they reached the solid ground. Kat was pale, and sweating. She clutched her right wrist. "Thank you", she mumbled, but Newt had already turned away. "Clint!", was all he shouted to a boy who was standing ready nearby, and who now edged his way to the girl.

"How does it feel?", Clint asked.

"Ever been stung by a bee? Something like that."

"Does she need medical help?", Nick inquired.

The Med-jack shook his head. "Nothing much I could do about it. She should be resting, and I'd supervise her until she gets better."

Nick shook his head. "She can do the resting in the Slammer. A week or so, to get the klunk out of her slinted head."

To a slight movement of his head two boys grabbed her by her shoulders and led her away.