Chapter 55: Memoir: The Man She Saved

It was him. That soldier.

For a second, the jungle disappeared.

Not the trees. Not the fire. Not the blood.

Just him, broken and scarred.

On the brink of death.

Lara dropped to her knees beside him and ripped open her pack. She searched for cloth. Anything that would keep him breathing.

She slapped crushed yarrow straight into the open wound.

He flinched.

“Yeah, it burns,” she muttered. “Means you’re alive.”

Blood kept seeping through the fabric, soaking her hands, turning everything slick and red. Her fingers moved fast anyway—wrapping, pulling and knotting. Tight enough to hurt. Tight enough to matter.

“Come on, soldier,” she barked, her voice sharp, laced with urgency. “You need to help me. Get up. We’re not done yet.”

Something in her tone cut through his haze.

His spine straightened on instinct.

He wanted to survive.

He forced his eyes open and pushed himself upright like his body remembered discipline even if his brain didn’t.

“Good,” she snapped. “Stay with me.”

She hauled his arm over her shoulders.

He was heavy—solid muscle and dead weight—but she didn’t complain. Just locked her grip and started moving.

Step. Drag. Step.

They staggered through the trees like two drunks after a bad night.

What should’ve been five minutes stretched forever.

The forest was pitch-black, alive with noise—bugs screaming, branches snapping, something moving where it shouldn’t.

Every sound felt like teeth.

The three fire arrows she carried burned low, flames guttering like dying streetlights.

She lit three more. The fire on their tips flickered in the gloom, casting eerie shadows, twisting around them like ghosts.

They were almost to the bridge.

Almost—

A growl rolled through the dark.

Low. Close. Predatory.

Her body went still, and her breath hitched.

Slow turned.

Amber eyes blinked open in the shadows.

One pair. Then five. Then too many to count.

Her hand was already on the hilt of her sword. Amber eyes glowed in the darkness.

The pack had returned. And this time, they weren’t just chasing. They were hunting.

The first wolf lunged. Without warning.

Her heart skipped a beat. Instinct took over.

Steel flashed.

Her blade cut the air with a sharp hiss—

YELP!

Then a thud!

Blood splurted.

She didn’t even look back.

“Move, soldier!” she hissed. “You fall, we’re both dinner. And you’re heavy as hell.”

He gritted his teeth and forced his legs to work. Every step looked like torture, but he didn’t quit.

Didn’t complain.

“Soldier, move it! If you don’t get up, we’ll both be dinner!” she hissed, gritting her teeth. “You’re damn heavy.”

The man gritted his teeth, forcing his feet forward, driven by her urgency. His heart pounded against his ribs, his muscles screaming in protest. Still, he kept going.

The pack closed in. Closer and closer.

“Hold these.” She shoved the burning arrows into his hands.

He clutched them like they were the last lights in the world.

The wolves’ eyes glowed in the firelight—cold, hungry, and patient.

Lara calculated. They were too close for a bow.

Fine.

She threw one arrow straight into an amber eye.

Another Yelp, followed by thud.

Then Another.

She grasped another arrow and hurled it, aiming for the glow of an eye, another yelp, another wounded predator.

But they kept coming.

Like they knew one of them would drop eventually.

Like they were waiting.

Her chest tightened.

Lara, Think.

Suddenly, a thought broke through the tension—Gray. His pack should be nearby.

She whistled sharply, a call cutting through the night.

Silence.

’Damn it!’

Her jaw clenched.

“Don’t do this to me—”

Lara pulled another arrow, her fingers trembling slightly as she aimed. There was no time for finesse.

She released the arrow, and another howl pierced the night air.

Another arrow. Another throw. Another yelp.

Then—a rustling. Low growls.

Not from the enemy.

Gray burst from the brush like a bullet, gray fur and snapping jaws, his pack right behind him. They hit the wolves head-on—teeth against teeth, claws against claws.

The night exploded into snarls and bodies colliding. It was chaos.

Relief hit so hard her knees almost gave.

“Good boy,” she breathed. “I owe you.”

But there was no time to watch.

She turned back.

The soldier was on his knees now. Fire Arrows slipping, head hanging.

No!

No, no, no.

She dropped beside him and grabbed his collar, pulling him upright.

His skin burned hot, breathing ragged. He was too close to fading.

“Hey,” she said, softer now. “Stay with me. Just a little more. That’s it. Just a little more.”

His eyes fluttered.

The man’s breath shuddered as the warmth of her whisper curled against his ear.

For a moment, the haze lifted, but then he closed his eyes. He was too tired, too weak.

She shook him hard.

“Don’t you dare die on me, soldier!” she snapped, voice breaking at the edges. “After everything I just went through? After dragging your ass all this way?”

Her grip tightened.

“I will not forgive you if you quit. You hear me?”

For a second, nothing.

Then, his jaw set and teeth grinding, he pushed himself up. His legs shook as if they might snap, but he was standing.

Still fighting.

Still refusing to drop.

…

“Mommy!”

“Aunt Larissa!”

Two sharp voices sliced through the dark like glass breaking.

Lara’s eyes flew open.

Her body jolted upright on pure instinct, spine straight, hand already twitching toward where her weapon should’ve been.

For half a second—

She didn’t know where she was.

Smoke. Blood. Howling. Fire.

Her heart hammered like she was still running.

Then the jungle came back.

The green canopy above hiding the sun came into focus.

Then the sound of a stream flowing like a soothing symphony of gentle murmurs, the melodic babbling of water over stones and the rhythmic gurgling and splashing.

No wolves, no screams, no flames.

She was leaning against the massive tree.

The same one from her memory, only shorter and thinner.

Her palm pressed into the bark, rough, cool, real.

But all she could see was red smeared across it.

Blood that wasn’t there anymore. Blood that had been there once.

Her chest tightened.

“Mommy, did you fall asleep?”

Shay stood in front of her, eyes wide and bright, cheeks puffed from pouting. Too innocent. Too alive. The kind of face that didn’t belong anywhere near the dangerous jungle.

Reality felt… wrong for a second.

“Huh?” Lara blinked. Her throat was dry.

Did I…?

Sleep?

The word didn’t sit right.

It hadn’t felt like sleep.

It felt like falling backward through time.

Like reliving something her body never forgot.

“You were talking,” Sandro said, tilting his head. “In your sleep.”

Talking?

Her stomach dropped.

What did I say?

Names? Orders? Screaming?

“We couldn’t hear it though,” Shay added. “Just mumbling.”

Lara heaved a sigh of relief.

She rubbed her face hard, trying to scrub away the lingering images.

The cold air, the cold trees.

But her hands—

She could still feel it.

Sticky warmth.

Blood soaking through bandages.

The weight of a man collapsing against her shoulders.

The sound of his breathing fading.

Too vivid.

Too sharp.

Dreams didn’t leave ghosts in your muscles.

Dreams didn’t make your heart ache like when you are about to lose someone.

“I guess… I did fall asleep,” she said slowly.

But even to her own ears, it sounded wrong.

Like a lie she wasn’t buying.

Her gaze drifted back to the tree trunk. Then it moved upwards.

The tree has grown so much taller.

Her fingers traced the grooves in the bark.

Right there. That spot. She could swear she had knelt here before.

Hands red, voice shaking, she begged someone not to die.

Her pulse started rising again.

No. That wasn’t a dream.

It couldn’t be.

Dreams blur. Dreams fade.

But that memory was carved into her bones.

Like it happened in reality…

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