Time seemed to stand still as Zira lay there, dazed and bleeding from her head. The faint sound of voices drifted in and out of her awareness, mingling with the distant hum of passing cars. Her small body felt impossibly heavy, the warmth of her own blood trickling down the side of her face. Her vision blurred as the flashing red of taillights came into view before disappearing into the endless night.
A car screeched to a halt at the roadside. The sound of hurried footsteps and urgent whispers followed. A man and woman knelt beside her, their faces pale with alarm. The man, tall and broad-shouldered, brushed Zira's tangled hair away from her face with trembling fingers.
The woman's hands hovered over Zira's form, hesitant, as if afraid that even the gentlest touch might worsen her condition.
"She's bleeding badly," the woman said, her voice quivering. "We can't wait for an ambulance. We have to take her ourselves."
