Chapter Twenty-TwoSomeone was punching my head, over and over and over.
‘Please stop,’ I groaned.
‘Not likely,’ said Matilda.
I opened my eyes. The world was topsy-turvy. There was grass and dirt and blood and oil, and sometimes a hand or a leg that I hoped was still attached to its owner. It all bounced painfully up and down.
Ah. Matilda had slung me over her shoulder and was running somewhere while I dangled over her back.
‘I—specifically—told—you—not—to—get—shot,’ she panted, dodging three metal men and squeezing us through a gap between two rocks.
‘Didn’t get shot,’ I retorted, hoping I wouldn’t ruin the moment by throwing up. ‘Shot down is different.’
‘You should have opened your wings sooner.’
‘Please … put me down.’
She twisted suddenly, throwing my feet at the ground. I wa
