Eon

Chapter 13

Carson looked on at the ceiling of the makeshift tent he was bound to, drenched in sweat. He did not say a word, waiting as the pain and turmoil inside him passed through. He could hear Cheson working outside, talking to one another in hushed but frantic voices, whispering of coming dangers. The callings of nature had long since fled. War had come to Eon, and with it the silence of death.

Maleen sat on the stump of a tree inside the tent, watching Carson carefully. She knew pain and was aware of the fire that burned inside Carson. The native leaned slightly forward, the sapphire and emerald beads that made up her jewelry dipping down, singing in the gentle breeze that found its way through the canvas. Her blank, pale eyes scanned Carson's body, towards his legs which were covered in blankets stained with blood.

Carson stirred. Maleen straightened herself and peered down at the Insurgent, her curved mouth now a thin line on her face. Carson bent forward, glancing quickly at the Cheson and then ignoring her completely. He closed his eyes and emitted a sharp sigh, his chest rising and then falling. The roar of a far off explosion was heard, a sudden disturbance which was followed by a peculiar quiet.

Carson moved his body to the side of the cot. His legs fumbled onto the grass below. His right leg was no more, a mere bloody stump. Upon this realization Carson clasped his face with both his hands and began to cry.

Han stood just outside, along with two of his guard. He stared at the entrance of the tent, frowning in impatience, scratching his sunken forehead.

"We need to leave," he told one of the guardsmen. "We've stayed here too long as it is."

"Han, he's been through—" the soldier began to say, his voice low and guttural, but Han interrupted him sharply by raising his hand.

"We have all lost something today," Han stated.

Eventually Carson composed himself. He wiped his tears away, his hands shaking with adrenaline. Maleen stood nearby, poised and patient.

"I'm sorry, Carson," she said. "We did all we could. The wound was too great."

Carson shook his head and managed a weary smile. "I know."

Maleen motioned towards the front of Carson's cot. There, leaning against the frame was what appeared to be a cane. It was a simple contraption composed of smooth, polished wood. It was shoulder-high and the top of the thing was curved. A small handle had been inserted into the frame where Carson assumed he could rest his arm. Maleen got up and took the cane and went over to the human's side.

"This will help you stay mobile," she began. "I'm sorry, I wish I could give you rest, but we need to move. We are not safe here. There are tribes on the plains who will help us. But we must go, as soon as possible. May I help you up?"

Carson stared at the cane for a moment and then nodded his head. He used the edges of the wooden cot and Maleen's arm to support himself. For a moment the sensation of not being able to lean on his phantom foot was too much for Carson and he slowly began to slip away, but Maleen foresaw this, gripping his shoulder tightly and shaking him. Carson focused, taking in a deep breath and then retrieving the cane, leveraging the curved top under his armpit. He gripped the handle tightly with his right hand and shakily removed himself from Maleen's support.

At first it was difficult to keep his balance. The soft grasses and soils underneath Carson did not help, and more than once Maleen had to help the Insurgent steady himself. Yet through determination Carson soon had the hang of it and could walk out of the tent and into the sun by himself.

Han approached Carson and bowed his head slightly. Carson mirrored the Cheson's greeting, still breathing heavily after exerting himself.

"Once again, Carson, your tenacity and willingness to adapt impresses us," Han said, smiling softly.