Present Time...
[***** POV]
'Imma be honest, I don't understand anything.'
She is waving her arms, dragging invisible objects through the dirt. It makes no sense.
'I'll just act like I understand.'
I reach out and pat her head to calm her down. She probably hasn't rested for hours.
I give her a thumbs up.
She finally stops the charades and sits down on the rock. But a second later, she's up again, grabbing my hands, trying to drag me somewhere.
I stop her. I lift her up and set her back down on the rock.
She tries to stand again.
I shake my head left to right. Stop. Sit.
She pauses. She points at her stomach, then to her side. She makes a whimpering motion, curling in on herself.
'Is she hungry? Cold?'
She realizes I'm lost. She sighs and jumps down from the rock. She smooths out a patch of dirt.
She grabs a stick and draws two stick figures.
She points at one, then at herself.
'That's her.'
She points at the other one. Then she points at herself again, and does a weird motion—linking her fingers together.
'Her brother.'
I point at her, then at the other stick figure, and make a cupping gesture with my hands. Family?
She nods frantically.
She starts drawing again, faster this time.
She adds two more stick figures near the first two. Then, she draws a box around them.
'The other's'.
She moves to a clear spot in the dirt. She draws four more figures on the corners.
One is huge. One is thin. One is short. One looks average.
'The captors.'
The huge one is the Bald Man. The thin one is the Lean Man. And the short one... the Mage.
She points at the average one, then points toward the bushes where the Old Man's dead body lies.
She draws a line across the average figure—the Old Man—signaling his death. Then she points at the other three guards, makes an 'X' with her arms, and mimes destroying the jail cell.
To be free, they all have to die.
I scooch a little closer to her.
'I'm ahead of schedule.'
I use my finger to draw a line across the Huge figure (Bald Man). Then I draw a line across the Thin figure (Lean Man).
She looks at me, tilting her head.
I gesture to myself, then to the crossed-out figures, and run a finger across my throat. Dead.
Her eyes go wide. Her mouth drops open. She looks from the drawing to me, then back to the drawing.
Suddenly, she launches herself at me, hugging me tight.
Just as quickly, she pulls away and goes back to drawing. She wipes the dirt slate clean.
She draws a new figure—the Short One.
'The Mage.'
She draws symbols next to him: a flame, a jagged lightning bolt, a water drop.
'The Mage's powers.'
She draws a circle around the Mage.
Then, she picks up a small twig. She flies it through the air—"Here comes the airplane motion"—slowly approaching the circle.
'Is she mimicking a plane? No, probably an insect'
As soon as the twig touches the circle in the dirt, she jerks her body violently, shaking as if she's being electrocuted.
'A barrier.'
My heart sinks. 'If someone touches that shield, they get fried.'
That complicates things. My original plan was to rush him before he could chant. It took him minutes to cast that ice spear last time. But if he has a passive defense... I can't just stab him.
I slowly stand up, testing my balance.
'Ah ha. I got an idea.'
I smash my fist vertically downwards into my open palm.
She tilts her head to the right like a confused puppy.
I point at her. Then I point at the stickman of the Mage.
Then, I do the killing gesture.
Later at the Campsite...