#DailyLines #MOBY #WrittenINMyOWNHeartsBLOOD #Book8 #OutJUNE10th #firstaidfortimetravelers He took Buck by the shoulders and eased him gently down, then bent and put his ear to the man’s chest, feeling like an idiot. “D’ye hear anything?” Buck asked anxiously. “Not with you talking, no. Shut up.” He thought he could make out a heartbeat of some sort, but had no idea whether there was anything wrong with it. He stayed bent a moment longer, if only to compose himself. _Always act like you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t_. He’d been given that bit of advice by a number of people, from performers he’d shared a stage with to academic advisors…and, much more recently, by both of his in-laws. He put a hand on Buck’s chest, and looked into the man’s face. He was still sweating and plainly scared, but there was a little more color in his cheeks. His lips weren’t blue; that seemed a good sign. “Just keep breathing,” he advised his ancestor. “Slow, aye?” He tried to follow that bit of advice himself; his own heart was hammering and sweat was running down his back, in spite of a cold wind that whined past his ears. “We did it, aye?” Buck’s chest was moving more slowly under his hand. He turned his head to look round. “It’s…different. Isn’t it?” “Yes.” In spite of the current situation and the overwhelming worry for Jem, Roger felt a surge of jubilation and relief. It _was_ different: from here, he could see the road below—now no more than an overgrown drovers’ trace, rather than a gray asphalt ribbon. The trees and bushes, they were different, too—there were pines, the big Caledonian pines that looked like giant stalks of broccoli. They _had_ made it. He grinned at Buck. “We made it. Don’t die on me now, you bugger.” “Do my best.” Buck was gruff, but maybe starting to look better. “What happens if ye die out of your time? D’ye just disappear, like ye never were?” “Maybe ye explode into bits. I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. Not while I’m standing next to you, at least.” Roger got his feet under him, and fought down a wave of dizziness. His own heart was still beating hard enough that he felt it in the back of his head. He breathed as deep as he could, and stood up. “I’ll…get ye some water. Stay there, aye?”
Posted on: Sun, 08 Dec 2013 11:06:00 +0000
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