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NovelLamp > The Son of Red Fang > Rising 413

Rising 413

    <b>Chapter </b><b>413 </b>


    <b>The </b>current of the river is strong as I struggle to get my head above the water. Even after my back injury<b>, </b>I’ve had the fortune of being a good swimmer. I struggle to recall how many times I was stupid enough as a child to follow Andre and Kristoph to the river just for them to faign losing me <b>so </b><b>they </b>could throw me in and walk away. My survival depended on learning quickly what I needed to know. Swimming was one such lesson.


    I finally find my footing in the muddy riverbed and push myself upright, breaking the water’s verface with a gasp. I widen my stance, using arge rock beneath the water to support myself against the current. My lungs burn from theck of oxygen and my chest is tight. The ssic painful vice, slowly tightening around my lungs, alerting me to the oing asthma attack.


    I reach into my pants pocket to find my inhaler has disappeared so I simply push the feeling away. It’s not the first time that I’ve been without. That’s the one <b>thing </b>I’ve always been good at, pushing the pain away until it bes safe to feel it or simply unbearable. Thetter is the <b>norm</b><b>. </b>


    I shiver as the wind blows. Dark ck clouds have been threatening to break loose all day and the first drops of rain hitting my skin tell me my time to do something about the dire situation is thon.


    I scan my surroundings, concentrating downstream, listening carefully for the alpha’s four year old daughters. Why they followed after him to a brawl between every pack in the program<b>, </b>the brawi <b>I </b>started, I don’t know but they are paying dearly for their mistake.


    I can hearmands being shouted in the distance but I truly don’t care about <b>that </b>right now. I’m certain that I’ll pay a hefty price for my involvement but I’ll deal with thatter.


    A tiny cough catches my attention and I start scanning the western bank of the <b>river</b>. It doesn’t take long for me to spot her. Madilyn is clinging to arge boulder, barely jutting out of the water twenty feet downstream from where I stand.


    I dive into the water as an even louder crack of thunder echoes through the forest. This time it’s


    better calcted and I’m able to use the current to my benefit.


    I bob my head in and out of the water, taking breaths and adjusting my course until I pop up at the same boulder Madilyn is clinging to. The rain drops arerger now and the frequency of thunder


    tells me the worst of the storm is nearly here.


    I reach down into the water as Madilyn loses her grip and harshly pull her up out of the water just <b>as </b>the river tries to im her again. She screams from pain and freight as I quickly gather her into the safety of my arms.


    “Where is your sister?!”


    I yell above the roaring river current and shing thunder. I’m scanning the water quickly while


    <b>Chapter </b><b>413 </b>


    <b>struggling </b><b>to </b><b>counter </b><b>the </b><b>current </b>trying <b>to </b><b>knock </b>me <b>down </b><b>again</b><b>. </b><b>Finally</b><b>, </b><b>I </b><b>spot </b>her<b>. </b><b>Madisyn </b><b>has </b>somehow managed <b>to </b><b>pull </b>herself out of the water <b>onto </b>a low <b>hanging </b>branch <b>but </b><b>I </b>know <b>she’s </b><b>tired </b><b>and too </b><b>far </b><b>from </b>the <b>high </b>bank <b>to </b>make <b>it </b>out <b>of </b><b>the </b>river on her own<b>. </b><b>She’s </b><b>about </b>twenty <b>feet </b><b>further </b><b>downstream </b>on <b>the </b><b>eastern </b>side <b>of </b>the river.


    The wind is picking up harshly and <b>the </b>branch she clings to <b>sways </b>wildly under her weight. <b>After </b><b>a </b>brief rest I <b>have </b>made the n I need and unzip my windbreaker, helping Madilyn climb <b>inside</b><b>. </b>I <b>zip </b>the thin jacket carefully around her body before cinching the waistband tight to my body <b>and </b>adjusting my sweatpants over the coat praying that she has enough strength to keep herself <b>from </b>falling down into them.


    “<b>I </b>need you to grab hold of my shirt. Hold on real tight. We’ve got to float downstream to <b>get </b><b>your </b>


    sister.”


    I’m scanning fast again, allowing my eyes to dart everywhere, taking every detail in. Jessa called it sensory processing disorder, <b>I </b>call a life saver. The very thing that has allowed me to see<b>, </b>smell<b>, </b><b>feel</b><b>, </b>think and react to my environment in ways that no one seems able to exin. It’s a gift that has kept me alive when I shouldn’t be yet curses me with an exaggerated pain response that <b>I </b>could certainly do without.


    I scan the water, quickly verifying the best way to use the current to speed me up while using the rocks to slow and direct me to where I need to be.


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