There was a roar in his ears, and he fell, a searing pain across his back. Numbly, he realized he'd been hit, but somehow it didn't seem important. He picked himself up and followed Carroll into the scrub. Soon he was out of sight of their pursuers, though the explosions of their weapons still followed them with uncanny accuracy.
He caught up with the old man and his daughter in a small clearing. Carroll lay with his head cradled in Daimya's lap, gasping for breath.
"We've got to go on," Wolf said. "Come on, I'll help."
"You're hurt!" the girl said.
"Not badly. Come on, we've got to get your father out of here!"
The old man put his arms around the shoulders of the other two, and they struggled up the hill, breaking their way through the brush, slipping, sometimes falling. Behind them, there was still the occasional sound of the explosive pellets, and infrequently, one came very near.
"Close," muttered Wolf as an explosion showered them with dirt. "They're on the path now."
They went a few steps farther, and Joseph slumped between them.
"Dad!" called Daimya. "Please! Please try to go on!"
Wolfs hand slid down the old man's back, came away warm and wet.