Semper Mine (Sons of War #1)(38)

She nods.

I glance up to see Captain Mathis with the rest of the kids a good ten yards ahead. He’s smiling and occupied. My eyes linger on his grin. His dimples are visible. He’s stunning when he’s relaxed and happy. I can’t imagine what it’d take for him to smile at me. We’ve always been too … intense.

It’s a good thing. I think I’d fall all over myself if he gave me one of the dazzling smiles he reserves for the kids.

Shaking my head, I take Jenna’s hand and lead her into the forest. When we’re out of sight of the others, I stop and gaze around. The ground is soft here, and there’s a drop off ahead, a ravine beyond a line of trees. There are a few large bushes she can go behind.

“Okay, this should be good. Do you have toilet paper or something?” I ask with a grimace.

“Captain Mathis made us bring some.”

That man is so freaking anal. It’s moments like these that I can’t imagine being with him long term.

Not that I’m considering it. Where the hell did that thought come from?

Jenna moves into the bushes.

“Careful, Jenna. Not so close to the ravine,” I call, remembering the safety briefing warning about mudslides.

The rustling stops, and I wait. Five minutes pass. I pull out my phone to check the time. This really isn’t the place for doing something other than peeing, but that’s just me.

Another minutes passes.

“Jenna? You almost done?” I ask.

No answer.

“Jenna?”

Concerned, I push through the brush and frown. She’s not there.

I hear some kind of sound, a squeak or muffled cry. Starting forward, I freeze. The mud here is even softer, giving out beneath my feet, sliding towards the edge of the ravine. I snatch a tree branch and haul myself back.

Panic stirs. I can’t see Jenna anywhere. I circle around the tree and test the mud on the other side. It’s loose but not as slippery. Stepping away from the trunk, I inch forward cautiously, freezing whenever the ground starts to give.

“I’m coming, Jenna,” I cry. “Hang in there!”

No response. Please, please be okay! Desperate for a sign that she’s alive, I risk moving away from the trees. Almost immediately, the mud beneath me begins to shift towards the ravine. I fall flat on my belly, and the shifting stops. Cold wetness sinks through my clothing. Carefully, I rise up to my knees and inch forward. A downed, rotted out tree has roots sticking out over the edge of the ravine, and I slide as close as I dare, hanging onto one.

“Jenna?” I lean over the edge.

She’s a good ten feet below, hanging onto a tree root, sobbing and covered in mud.

“Oh, Jesus, Jenna!”

I’m feeling overwhelmed. The drop down the steep hill into the ravine is a good thirty feet of mud and branches. Seeing it makes me want to cry, because there’s no easy way to get to her.

“Hang on, honey. I’ll figure this out.” I stretch back and grab my phone out of my back pocket. My hands are trembling. I pull up the contact information for the first person I can think of and text quickly. Need help. In the forest with Jenna. Mudslide.

Pushing send, I replace it.

“Can’t … hang on.” Jenna is crying.

“Yes, you can!” I can hear the hysteria entering my voice. I move closer. There are branches and roots between her and me that I can use to climb down to her. I stretch for the first and test it. It’s a little too flexible for my liking. My hurt wrist aches, and I ease myself onto another one.

“Katya!” Captain Mathis’ shout reaches me no more than two minutes after the text I sent him.

“Here!” I yell.

“Stay where you are!”

Nope. Not when Jenna is about to let go. “Hurry!”

The branch beneath me snaps, and I drop. My wrist burns at the sudden weight. I quickly plant my feet on another branch. I trained as a ballerina for years under my mother and take yoga and Pilates now. My muscles are trained for tiny, isolated movements like these. Like a cat, I can balance on a pinhead if I need to. I never thought that skill would come in handy outside of the studio.

With one leg, I stretch behind me and test another branch before carefully shifting my weight. It’s excruciatingly slow, but I’m making my way to Jenna. I concentrate on moving one branch at a time and not on how precarious my position is.

“Katya?” His voice is closer.

“Down here. Careful! The mud is really loose!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Jenna’s stuck. I’m almost to her.”

I hear him curse. I’m not sure this is the time or place to remind him not to say such things in front of the kids. I’m more worried about my balance at this point.

“I’ve got rope. Keep talking, so I can tell where you are,” he orders me.

“I’m right here. Rescuing Jenna, who is not going to let go, right, sweetie?” I try to keep my tone upbeat. It’s trembling, along with my insides. “Captain Mathis is here, Jenna. If you let go, he’ll make you run extra laps.”

“Nice.” Captain Mathis doesn’t sound amused. “Tell me if you see the rope.”

I shift one branch lower and look up. A rope is snaking down from the branches of a tree nearby. It’s a good three feet away.