Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s snippet comes a few lines after last week’s, when 18-year-old Emánuel and 17-year-old Adrián ran across three Czech partisans in Boubínský Prales, one of the forests on Boubín Mountain.
One of the partisans asked where they were from, and Emánuel said they’re Hungarians.
“I think I’ve been shot,” Adrián gasped. “My right shoulder and thigh are burning.”
The tallest partisan lifted Adrián onto his back, and the other two partisans supported Emánuel. As they hurried to their destination, Emánuel suppressed his urge to cough.
At the edge of the forest, one of the partisans ran off, and came back with a horse-drawn cart full of hay. Emánuel climbed in, and Adrián was lifted in, after which the partisans covered them with hay. Every time the cart hit a rock, branch, thick snow, ice, or any other kind of disturbance on its way up the mountain, a fresh wave of pain swept through Adrián. Though the temperature was still bone-chillingly cold as March approached, Adrián’s right thigh was nice and warm from the blood on both sides. His right shoulder was warm too, though not as much as his thigh.