“Kestrel! It’s Jacob! Please get him! Save my baby!” Merilla screamed.
“We’ve got to get the horse to the other side, and then I’ll go after him,” Kestrel answered, urgently pulling Merilla and his horse towards their destination on the far side of the river. He led them into the stony shallows on the far side, watching downstream as the boy rapidly floated around the bend in the river below them.
“Take the horse up onto the beach and wait for me!” he shouted, then he ran up onto the bank of the river and began to race downstream, trying to catch up to Jacob. Once he was out of sight of Merilla he intended to enter the river bed and run across the water, in the elven way, to pounce on the boy and carry him to safety.
Around the bend though, there turned out to be rapids, and as Kestrel caught sight of the small body, he saw it bounce off one rock, then strike another ferociously, and continue to float rapidly down the stream. The elf leaped down to the surface of the stream and began to sprint, running atop the water and jumping across the tops of boulders as he raced to reach Jacob.
He caught up with the boy just before he struck another stone, reaching down into the water and snagging him with a motion that flung the heavy wet body up into the air, and then into Kestrel’s two-armed grasp. Kestrel hugged his load tightly as he continued across the stream and reversed direction, heading back upstream, still atop the foaming waters as he angled towards the far shore.
The river bank on the far side was steeper than he expected, causing him to remain atop the water, sprinting desperately with all his might to maintain his speed so that he would not sink below the surface. Kestrel was one of the least effective water-runners because of his human heritage, and his heavier body structure, but he ignored the growing, burning pain in his thighs and focused on pushing his speed to his utmost limit in order to reach a sandy beach he saw not far ahead.
Three steps away from the beach his speed diminished enough that his feet began to sink, but he only splashed thigh deep before he reached his goal and stopped, head down, gasping for air as he held the baby boy against him. After several seconds he looked at the boy, and grew frightened. The boy’s face was very pale, he was unconscious, and there was blood pouring freely from a serious scalp wound.
Kestrel looked up, and saw that Merilla, the horse, and her other son were not far away, across the river at the nearby ford. He had come farther than he realized atop the water, and had nearly run them all the way back to their beginning point. There might have to be some explaining to do, but that would wait. Looking ahead he saw that the river had a shallow shelf along the shore, and he started to run along that shelf until he reached the ford, then began to cross, aiming up river in order to counter the current that was flowing across his path, trying to sweep him back down towards the rocks.
“He’s hurt!” Kestrel shouted as he approached the anxious mother. “Get my skin of healing water!”
She stood motionless, staring at him with her mouth hanging open.
“Merilla! Get the water!!” he shouted, just before he arrived.
He placed the boy on the ground, as Merilla came to life, and they met at the horse, as she gazed at him in astonishment. “Your son — tend to him,” he snapped hastily, and she turned away from him as he began to paw among the items on the back of the horse, looking for the half full skin that held the healing water.
Moments later he found the skin and ripped it off the horse’s back, still panting in exhaustion from his own efforts. He turned and crouched next to Jacob, where Merilla knelt, holding the boy’s hands and praying for miraculous intercession to Kai.
“Amen, Kai. If this doesn’t help him we hope you will,” Kestrel muttered as he began to pour the water on Jacob’s wound, then combed the moisture back into the boy’s already wet hair. He gently placed the skin’s spout against Jacob’s lips and let a tiny trickle flow into his mouth. After a moment the child reflexively swallowed, and Kestrel released a second trickle.
“Do you have dry clothes the boy could wear?” Kestrel asked.
Merilla’s whispered prayers stopped, and she opened he eyes to look at Kestrel. “Yes,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation, “Of course.” She looked at Kestrel from the corner of her eye, then stood and returned to the horse, where her other son was pleading to be carried down.
“No, stop it,” she snapped at the boy sternly as she tried to find the dry clothes for his brother, then returned to Jacob with her findings, and began to make him comfortable in his dry things.
“What do we do now?” she asked. “Oh Kestrel, I should know what to do. I can’t think straight — with Jacob falling and you running on water and his injuries, I’m just so confused,” she sighed deeply.
“Let’s get Marco down, and then tie Jacob up on top of Rosey’s back,” he referred to the horse. “Then we’ll just have to wait and see how quickly he heals,” he tried to sound optimistic.
“Is he going to heal?” she asked, stroking the damp hair back from the nasty-looking wound.
Kestrel poured another small dose of the healing water onto the wound, then tipped a few more drops into the boy’s mouth. “The water helped me recover from the yeti attack,” he answered obliquely. “I think it will help him heal, but I just can’t be positive. You ought to keep praying to Kai,” he advised.
He helped Marco down, then lifted Jacob’s limp body atop the horse, and used a strap across the boy’s waist to keep him stable. He lifted Marco onto his own shoulders, and looked at Merilla. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Kestrel, I saw you running on top of the water, the way they say elves do,” she answered.
“Let’s at least start walking while we talk,” Kestrel suggested, and they both began to climb up away from the ford and followed the trail away from the river.
“It may have looked like I was on the water, but there was a shelf along the river bank, and I used that,” he explained, conscious of how closely he was evading the truth. “Look at me; do I look like an elf to you?” he asked rhetorically.
“Not really,” she agreed. “I’d never say so unless someone suggested it.
“Kestrel,” she looked directly at him as she started to say something more, and he gazed steadily back.
“Merilla, please don’t ask me anything more about this,” he said. “It’s better that we just not say anything else, to each other or anyone else. I will take you safely to Estone, and I will treat you well along the way. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, hopefully. He did not want to experience an erosion of trust with this human woman. He didn’t even think of her as a human any longer — just a person, one who he was responsible for tending and protecting, and who was a good person in a bad situation.
She saw the pleading look in his eyes, and glanced down, then looked back up at him. “Youkal would approve of everything you have done for us since the moment you arrived and killed the yeti. I trust you Kestrel; I won’t say anything further about this until you’re ready to tell me.” She turned and looked forward, then began to increase her stride, and Kestrel knew that the dangerous moment had passed.
They walked on until nightfall, then camped, and checked on Jacob’s condition as the fire died down. He was resting on the ground, unconscious, but apparently no worse than he had been earlier.
Kestrel woke first in the morning, and stooped to check on Jacob in the early sunrise’s red rays. His complexion seemed better and the cut appeared to have visibly healed; Kestrel got more of the healing water and dribbled some on the boy’s scalp, which he gently rubbed into the wound area, then dripped it slowly between the boy’s parted lips, until he heard a rustling behind him and turned to see Merilla sitting up observing the tableau.