‘Fillan!'
It was sickening. Mary’s ears cringed in disgust and alarm because all that could go through her head was the boy, the solider. Rising to her feet faster than she wished, she grasped the wall, digging her fingers into the stone bloodless, overwhelmed with a haze.
Swallowing shallowly, the pirate culled her cutlass from the ground and stalked closer to them before he could kill the boy. Circling him carefully, she seized Fillan and slid her sword through the red coat’s throat—through bone disks and muscle strings—to her hilt before feeling the onslaught weight of the thief’s strained her arm. Bringing her leg up, she kicked the corpse away, blood gush from the wound.
Mary dropped her cutlass and pulled the bayonet from his waist, skidding it aside, keeping it from possibly tearing a hole. “Fillan.” She was brought to her knees, cradling the boy against her chest. “Fillan come on, mate. We need ta get out of ‘ere. Come on. Make effort, kid. Up.”
The boy did not see what his friend did, how she saved him —all he felt was the cold steel piercing through his body.
When the pirate pulled out the bayonet, Fillan just fell into her arms, dragged down by the movement and pull from her. He felt sick, just holding himself back before he would vomit right in front of her shoes.
" ‘m feelin’ so dizzy … ouhgh.."
The boy’s knees gave away, he grabbed the sleeves of her coat, just pulling her down to the ground, too, where he fell to her chest, shivering and breathing fitfully.
Getting out sounded good, it was easy to say for her, Fillan really wanted to make effort, he really wanted!! But his body was working against him, as it felt. Whenever he wanted to get back on his feet, the feeling of having a black void in his chest was pulling him back, back in Mary’s arms…
Pressing a lingering kiss against his brow, Mary cradled his cheek. He looked so pallid, so vulnerable. ”Alrigh’. Don’ worry. Ah ‘ill help you.“
Footsteps sounded to her right. The soldier’s gargled cry had alerted them and now the pirate had leave the scene before they could seize the pair. "Hold on 'ittle one.” Reaching for her fallen cutlass, quickly sheathed it and tore a strip of cloth from her sash, tying it around his middle, restraining torn muscle, feeling the warm blood spill from his side, quickly staining her palms.
Dipping under his arm, she hooked her arm and hefted him up, pressuring herself with his weight. “Can you walk?” Mary whispered, seeking his eyes, dabbing the thin sheet of sweat on his brow.