One of the hunters either did not see or did not pay attention to Skeever as she jumped atop the fallen animal and sank a spear deep into its neck. The machete-wielder, however, stopped dead in her tracks. The man named Cody managed to yank her back just in time to avoid a lashing of the animal’s trunk as it flew past, lifting Skeever off his legs.
The dog growled and bit down harder on the trunk, refusing to be dislodged.
Lynn shouldered past a slender man and struck at the elephant’s head once as she dodged past its wicked-looking tusks. The blow connected and scraped across strong bone before cutting deep into the cheek.
The elephant thrashed and threw off the hunter, who then disappeared behind its back, out of Lynn’s view.
Lynn wrapped her arm around Skeever’s writhing bulk and pulled. “Let go!”
To her great surprise, he did.
Lynn fell, but her backpack cushioned most of the impact. Something crunched to bits inside. She scrambled, arm still locked around Skeever, and got out of the way just before a tusk landed heavily on the spot she’d occupied a second earlier. She rolled out of the way and curled into a ball around the twisting dog, gaze on the elephant and its attackers.
The hunter the machete-wielder had called Dani clambered up the animal’s back. She was young, covered in blood. Her face was stilled in concentration, and she didn’t look Lynn’s way even once. She gripped and leveraged one of the spears stuck in the elephant’s back, and the animal shuddered once; then a crack loud enough to reach Lynn’s ears indicated that either the spear or the animal’s vertebrae had given way.
The elephant went slack.
Dani slipped and tumbled off the animal, spear and all.
The other hunters backed off. They watched. They waited.
Lynn swallowed heavily. She still struggled with Skeever, who fought against her grip.
Silence fell.
The elephant’s breathing slowed and then, anti-climactically, ceased.
Lynn exhaled along with it, then inhaled deeply. She was very aware the elephant’s chest didn’t rise with hers.
When she released Skeever, he jumped away like a bucking bull, released from the barn come spring. For a second, Lynn forgot she was probably in trouble and smiled.
Then chaos returned.
“You!” A young man, barely more than a boy, reacted before anyone else could. Mere seconds after the elephant had gone down, he lunged at her with a bloodied knife, his face contorted in anger so deep that it almost froze Lynn in place. Almost. If it had, she would have died then and there. Adrenaline pushed its way through her system, and she rolled out of the way of the first attack, crushing more items in her backpack.
Metal hit asphalt.
The boy’s momentum caused him to fall, but he lashed out again even as he sprawled.
Lynn pulled up her legs to get clear of the knife, then kicked. She hit him in the face hard enough to make him drop the knife—it was a lucky shot, and she knew it. She wouldn’t get another.
The boy groaned, but his bloodied—probably broken—nose didn’t deter him even a little. He scrambled over her, pulling at her leg and clothes for leverage, then grabbed for her hair. He yanked—hard.
She cried out and instinctively covered his hand with her own. His weight prevented her from filling her lungs. Panic surged. Her heart galloped to the point of bursting. Air! She remembered her training and blindly clawed at her attacker’s face, going for the eyes in animalistic instinct.
He turned his head to the side to avoid her nails and punched her in the face. Then he closed his hands around her windpipe and squeezed.
She pounded at his arms. She tried to fight. She tried to defend herself, but her strength wore down fast. Her heartbeat pounded inside her skull, drowning out any other sound. Her vision became blurry. Her world distilled to gray eyes filled with tears. His mouth moved, but Lynn couldn’t focus long enough to understand what he was saying.
In the distance she could hear more yelling and barking, but neither fully registered. His weight pushed her down onto something sharp in her pack.
His grip lessened just enough for her to gasp for breath as he punched her again.
Pain exploded across her cheek. She wheezed, and the oxygen tasted like copper.
He lifted his fist again.
She tilted her head to the side as much as she could to protect it, but the blow never came.
The pressure lifted, first from her neck, then from her chest. Instinctively, she gasped for air, which tore up her throat on its way down. She breathed blood and nearly choked on it. Coughing, she rolled onto her side and tried to get up. Like a newborn lamb, she struck out with her legs and found them incapable of carrying weight. She sank to the ground again and sucked in sand with her oxygen. Damn, that hurt. But she couldn’t rest. She tried to slither away.
People were fighting around her. The noise of their brawling just barely topped the pounding of her heart. She scooted forward, away. The other foot, another few inches. Repeat. She reached out to plant her fingers in the dirt and placed her hand upon the sticky handle of a knife by accident. Her shaking hand closed around it almost without conscious thought. She took strength from it: now she could defend herself, at least.
Skeever barked, and someone was shouting, but it was all far away.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Every breath burned her lungs and throat. She opened her eyes to see, but her left eye had swollen shut and the other was watery with tears. They did her no good.
Someone grabbed her and pulled her over with a heave, causing her to flounder like a turtle on its back because of the backpack.
In a blind panic, Lynn tried to fight them off. She swung the knife up, but it was knocked from her hand instantly. When she kicked and twisted around to bite, her attacker locked their arms under Lynn’s armpits and pressed her into their body to control her movements. Her back arched awkwardly, and she couldn’t use her legs anymore or risk tipping them both over and relinquishing even more control. “Le—” Her voice broke as agony seared up her throat. She coughed again, which caused even more pain.
“Stop struggling!” The command was a breathless one.
At least she was giving her attacker something of a fight. Lynn squirmed even harder, invigorated by this tiny perceived victory.
“Dammit!” The grip fell away.
Lynn scrambled again but didn’t get far. The struggle had sapped the last of her energy, and she fell face forward as she tried to clamber up.
They let her; the hands didn’t return.
The next one to touch her was Skeever as he nuzzled the back of her head. He sniffed at her hair and whimpered. The familiarity of it almost had her break down in tears. “Sk—” Her voice came out in a rasp, and it hurt, so she stopped herself. She reached out and limply wrapped her arm around him. Using his sturdy bulk as a leverage point, she sat up shakily.
A few feet away, the woman named Dani sat on her haunches, inspecting her.
Lynn jumped.
Dani raised her hands, showing her palms. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Yeah, right. She was hotly aware they were all looking at her and that most brandished weapons.
They had dragged the boy who had attacked her away. While he struggled against the grip of Cody and another male, he seemed calmer. He clutched his forearm and glared at her, angry but not like someone who had only just been thwarted in a second attempt on her life.
Lynn frowned. Had it been Dani who’d grabbed her the second time? Now she had a moment to think, she remembered the voice had sounded female. She looked back at Dani. If she had been the one to grab her, she hadn’t hurt Lynn.