A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria 1)

His gaze was cautious, maybe suspicious. “Who are you?”

I thought for a while before I answered the question. I was a farm girl from Alger, and I was supposedly a tool for the destruction of Alyria. But I didn’t want either to define me.

“Name’s Calamity,” I finally supplied through chattering teeth. And at that moment, I hoped more than anything my name wasn’t my fate.

“’Course it is.”

CHAPTER SIX

UNCERTAIN REALIZATIONS

As the sun set, I believed I would go down with it. The thirst was unbearable. My lips were

dry, and I kept licking them, but it only made it worse. I was so dizzy that I almost fell off Gallant, and we stopped to give the horses a respite shortly after.

I had concluded I would never make it out of the mountains, so why not drink the rest of the water right now?

Weston walked off for a moment, and I went to grab my canteen out of his bag, but suddenly a masculine hand reached it first. I groaned. I would fight for it, I needed it so bad. I tried to pull it out of his grasp, but it was pointless. So I had to use different tactics. I looked up at him coyly, not sure how to do it, considering I had never wanted to flirt with anyone in Alger.

“Just a small drink,” I said sweetly.

His lips tipped up in the corners, and I thought he was going to give in, but all he said was, “No.” He then walked away, and I wanted to scream. I was so frustrated and so thirsty. “You’ve almost drunk your entire canteen. You need to save it, considering we are staying here tonight.”

My stomach dropped.

“I’m going to die,” I declared, and I wholeheartedly believed it.

“You won’t die. But you’ll feel so bad you’ll want to.”

“How reassuring.”

I had no idea why he still looked so virile. As if he wasn’t affected at all. He only wore a sleeveless jerkin and his skin was still healthy and tan. I knew my lips were chapped, and my cheeks were red from the icy air. I was wrapped up in his cloak as if it were my lifeline, while he looked like this was the perfect temperature for him. I wanted to ask him why he looked as invincible as he seemed to in Cameron, but I was sure I would get an evasive answer, and I didn’t want to waste my breath. It was important in these mountains.

As we ate supper around the campfire, my mind fogged over, and I wondered where I was for a moment. The fire spun and faded in and out. I couldn’t hear the crackling of wood and flames. “Can I have some water now?” I asked, my voice sounding as though it were underwater.

He handed me the canteen. “A small drink.”

I didn’t care about saving water or anything else. All I cared about was sating my thirst. I took a big gulp and began to chug the water as if I had just run here from Alger. The canteen was ripped out of my hands.

“I swear, I should leave you in these mountains,” Weston snapped. His cold voice had me bristling, and I jumped to my feet. My head spun before everything went black.

* * *

I woke up on a pallet. The fur-lined cloak was around me, but still, I shivered. The sky was dark, and my first thought was sating my thirst. My body felt like it was shutting down, as if all my cells were shrinking, and a little bit of water would put them back right. The pain was unbearable as I crawled over to the canteen.

My vision was blurry, but I made it out lying next to Weston, while he lay on his back, his forearm over his eyes. A huge part of me knew this would be unfruitful, but the thirst pushed me, and I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to.

Thirst isn’t very stealthy. Leaves crunched, and sticks snapped as I crawled over to the water my body desperately needed.

When I was inches from grabbing it, my head spun as arms wrapped around me, and I was picked up and set down on my pallet. I groaned and rolled around in agony.

“Sleep,” said a deep voice, and then it was black.

I was in a semi-conscious state when something shook my shoulder.

“Go away, Benji,” I mumbled.

Another shake.