Page Title

Tale's Of Larkin:
Hawthorn's
Discovery
[Excerpt]

The Rescuers

Rush spent some time discussing the plan to attempt to rescue Poke and
Hawthorn with the leaders of the relief party that had come to their aid. He
also told them everything that had happened so they could report it to the
Shaman at the Keep. Rush then checked on their two wounded companions.
Both were doing well, Hawk surprisingly so. He had drunk two containers of
warm meat broth, and his wound was freshly dressed. Rush noticed there
was more color in his face and he actually seemed stronger.
Flint’s leg had been resplinted, and some fresh clothes were put on him. He
was trying to eat and answer questions from the others about his fight with
the dragon. The fact that he couldn’t remember the fight did not seem to keep
him from giving a detailed account of his heroic exploits.
Receiving what supplies their friends could spare, Rush, Savin, Sycamore,
and Jay loaded their packs. They also took two of the six lances the relief
party brought with them. Bidding farewell to their comrades, the four rescuers
plunged into the forest with Rush in the lead. Even though the trail was cold, it
was still easy for them to follow.
Their attackers hadn’t expected any of them to survive, so they had put little
effort in covering their trail. They had only been following the trail a short while
when they came to an abandoned camp site. The others waited as Rush
carefully examined the area. He ranged quickly back and forth across the small
clearing, and then he circled the
perimeter, stopping occasionally to examine the ground. Finally, he trotted
over to his friends.
“They must have brought both of the young ones here,” Rush began, “’cuz
the group that took Hawthorn and the main body of warriors who attacked us
returned here. Hawthorn’s captors came in along this trail we followed, and
the rest of the cowards came in from over there.” He pointed off to the
northeast side of the clearing. “They licked their wounds here, then the whole
mess of ‘em took off yonder to the south.”
“How far behind them are we?” asked Savin.
Rush just shook his head. “Fellers, they got a head start on us you ain’t gonna
believe.”
“How much of a head start?” Jay scowled.
“They didn’t make a fire last night,” Rush offered.
“What does that mean?” Jay asked again.
“It means,” moaned Savin, “that they came back here to regroup and bind
their wounds, then they left.”
“You mean . . .” Jay began, his eyes getting wide as realization struck him.
“Yes,” Savin answered the question before it was asked, “they’ve been
traveling all night.”
“So what are we gonna do?!”
“We’re gonna hurry,” Rush said matter-of-factly. He then took off at a quick
trot, leading the way down the trail taken by the retreating Renegades. He had
to slow the pace at more frequent intervals than he wanted because Jay was
having a hard time keeping up. He had been running all night, and it was
beginning to tell on him.
It was at one of these slower times that they passed by a large, moss-covered,
rotting log lying on their left, parallel to the trail they were following. There
were several large clumps of moss in front of them and on their right. Rush
was leading, weaving his way between and around the moss patches, when
suddenly something wet and sticky slapped him hard across the face and
chest. Instantly he was jerked off his feet and yanked violently to his right.
Before he even had time to react, he found himself head first and waist deep
in the mouth of a large leopard frog.
The others were completely caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack.
Sycamore had been right behind Rush. He had noticed a sudden movement
behind the moss clump on the right, but before he could say anything, Rush
disappeared. Running forward a few steps, he leaped around the clump, lance
at the ready.
All he could see of Rush was his hips and legs kicking wildly out of the huge
amphibian’s mouth. Rush’s backpack and shield were making it difficult for
the toad to swallow him. He could see Rush groping for the knife he kept in
his right boot.
Sycamore hefted his lance and charged. He buried the lance head deep into
the creature’s soft, white throat. The toad’s response was immediate.
Throwing itself backwards, the wounded creature blasted out a painful roar
which sent Rush flying out of its mouth. Rush landed with a soggy thud on
some moss a short distance away. Savin and Jay quickly ran to his aid.
Sycamore was jerked forward off his feet, but he managed to retain his grip
on the lance, which pulled free when the injured frog jumped back. Quickly
scrambling to his feet and readying his lance for the frog’s next attack,
Sycamore began backing toward his friends.
Rush was filthy and his ribs hurt, but otherwise he seemed all right.
“You okay?” Sycamore asked Rush, never taking his eyes off the frog, which
was clawing at its injured throat.
“Oh, I’m just dandy!” Rush said sarcastically as he tried to draw his sting from
its sheath. “I’ve got so much toad slobber on me I can’t hold on to anything.”
“We need to get out of here!” Sycamore said nervously, still watching the frog
which was now eyeing them menacingly.
“Quick! This way!” said Jay, heading back the way they had come.
“No! Stop!” commanded Rush. “If we run that way, that hungry fly sucker’ll be
on us in two hops.”
“So what do we do? Fight him?”
“No, not unless we have to,” Rush responded, jerking his head around
looking for a defensive position.
“Here he comes!” shouted Sycamore as the frog began moving towards
them, positioning itself to strike.
“Everyone move back to the log,” Rush ordered. “Keep both lances forward.”
Savin, who was carrying the other lance, moved up next to Sycamore.
Rush continued, “Jay, cover us with your bow. Okay, everyone, let's move
back toward the log.”
Moving together, the four Larkin began backing toward the huge, rotting log
behind them. The leopard frog moved also, stalking them. Rush was
searching the bottom of the log for some way of escape when he suddenly
found it.
“Left! Move more to the left.” Without looking back, the others followed Rush’
s directions.
Soon the massive log was looming over them. Rush quickly unslung his own
bow and put an arrow to the string. “Alright, Jay, you first!” Rush ordered.
Jay looked back at the base of the log and saw that the ground dipped a little
in one spot, allowing a small opening under the log to the other side. Quickly
he lowered his bow and wiggled under the log.
“Savin, you’re next!” Rush barked, moving up to take Savin’s place next to
Sycamore.
Savin moved back to the opening and quickly slid his lance, butt first, under
the log, then dove after it.
“Now you, Syc!” said Rush.
“Don’t you think I should cover you with the lance?” Sycamore countered.
“No! You’d never make it under the log with that lance if you came last. We’d
either lose you or the lance. I’ll cover you with my bow. Besides, I got a special
place in my heart for this ol’ mud mucker, and I want to have a word of prayer
with him before I leave. Now go!”
Immediately Sycamore turned for the hole, pausing to shove the lance through
first. Behind him, he heard a quick, thumping sound, then a terrible croaking
roar. He had his orders, so he didn’t waste time looking back. He launched
himself through the hole to clear the way for Rush.
As soon as Sycamore had turned from Rush to move to the opening under the
log, the leopard frog made its move. In two quick leaps, the spotted predator
charged the lone Larkin. Rush stood his ground and released his arrow,
launching his missile into the back of the huge, gaping mouth. There was a
tremendous roar as the arrow sank deep into the soft, tender flesh in the back
of the frog’s throat. As the frog again clawed furiously at his mouth and throat,
Rush made his escape. As his head popped out of the hole on the back side of
the log, friendly hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him through.
“Well, did you have your word of prayer with him?” Sycamore asked.
“Yes, I did,” Rush replied with a smile, “and he said he was sorry."