She swooned, longingly placing the empty bottle into the blanket-sack on Thorne’s shoulder. Peering at the horizon, she spotted the mountainous shadows, still so far away.
Thorne picked up his cane and she forced herself to take in three solid breaths before she started, hoping they would give her courage. She estimated the amount of steps it would take to reach the next sand dune, and then began counting. One foot in front of the other. Warm air in, warm air out. The fantasy of being a brave explorer had long since dissipated, but she still clung to the knowledge that Thorne was relying on her.
She plodded up the dune as her teeth began to chatter again. She stumbled twice. She tried to call up comforting daydreams. A soft bed, a worn blanket. Sleeping in well past the sunrise, in a softly lit room where flowers grew outside the windowsill. Waking up in Thorne’s arms. His fingers stroking the hair off her brow, his lips pressing a good-morning kiss against her temple …
But she couldn’t hold on to them. She had never known a room like that, and the hard-earned visions were too quickly overshadowed by pain.
One dune came and went. She was already panting.
Two dunes. The mountains lingered tauntingly in the distance.
Each time they topped one, she would focus on the next. We’ll just crest that hill, and then I’ll sit for a minute. Just one more …
But instead of letting herself rest when the goal was reached, she chose another and kept going.
Thorne didn’t comment when she slipped and landed on her knees. He just picked her up and set her back on her feet. He said nothing when her pace slowed to a mere crawl, so long as they didn’t stop. His presence was reassuring—never impatient, never harsh.
After ages of delirious, mind-numbing progress through the sand, when she felt as though every limb were about to fall off, the sky to the east began to brighten, and Cress realized that the landscape was changing. The sand dunes were becoming shorter and shallower and, not far in the distance, they seemed to end in a long, flat plain of rocky red soil, dotted with scarce, prickly shrubs. Beyond that began the foothills of the mountains.
She glanced at Thorne and was surprised to catch the evidence of exhaustion etched into his features, though he replaced it with steadfast determination as they came to a stop.
She described the sight as well as she could.
“Can you guess how long it will take to reach those shrubs?”
She estimated, unable to bury the panic that it would turn out to be another illusion and that the respite of sand and swells would flee farther away with every step they took. “No.”
He nodded. “That’s all right. We’ll try to get to them before it gets too hot. We might be able to get some dew off their branches.”
Dew. Water. Even just a lick, just a taste … never again would she snub a single muddy gulp.
She started again, her legs screaming with the first few steps, until they began to numb again to the endless walking.
Then her eye snagged on something big and white, and she froze.
Thorne crashed into her, and Cress would have collapsed if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her shoulders, steadying her.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s … an animal,” she whispered, afraid to startle the creature that stood at the top of the dune.
It had already seen them and was staring serenely at Cress. She tried to place it with what she knew of Earthen wildlife. A goat of some sort? A gazelle? It had slender white legs atop enormous hoofs and a rounded belly that showed the edges of ribs. Its calm face was tan with swaths of black and white, like a mask around its eyes. Two towering spiral horns twisted up from its head, doubling its height.
It was the first Earthen animal she had ever seen, and it was beautiful and regal and mysterious, watching her with dark, unblinking eyes.
For a moment, she imagined that she could speak to it with her mind, ask it to lead them to safety. It would recognize the goodness inside her and take pity, like an ancient animal goddess sent to guide her to her destiny.
“An animal?” Thorne said, and she realized he’d been waiting for her to further explain what she was seeing.
“It has long legs and horns and … and it’s beautiful.”
“Oh, good, we’re back to this, then.” She could hear the smile in his tone, but she dared not take her gaze from the creature, lest it dissolve into the air like a phantom.
“Could mean there’s a water source nearby,” Thorne mused. “We should keep going.”
Cress took a tentative step forward. She felt the slip of sand more keenly than she had before, and recognized just how clumsy she and Thorne were, stumbling and scrambling over the dunes, while this creature stood so elegant and calm.
The creature tilted its head, not moving as Cress inched closer.
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the beast’s eyelids flickered and it turned its head toward something on the other side of the dune.
The crack of a gunshot rang out across the desert.
Twenty-Four
The creature balked and tumbled down the dune, blood dribbling from the wound in its side. Cress cried out and fell backward. Thorne pulled her down into the sand. “Cress! Are you all right?”
She was shaking, watching as the animal fell and rolled the rest of the way, gathering clumps of sand on its hide. She wanted to scream, but any noise was paralyzed inside her, and she could think of nothing but that the animal had wanted to say something to her and now the world was tilting and fading and she was going to be sick and there was blood in the sand and she didn’t know what had happened and—
“Cress! Cress!”
Thorne’s hands were on her, searching, and she realized dully that he thought she had been shot. She grabbed his wrists, holding them tight and trying to convey the truth through her grip when words wouldn’t come to her.
“I’m—I’m all—”
She paused. They both heard it. Panting, along with the slip and scramble of footsteps.
Cress cowered, pressing into Thorne’s embrace as terror washed over her. A man appeared at the top of the dune, carrying a shotgun.
He saw the animal first, dying or dead, but then spotted Cress and Thorne from the corner of his eye. He yelped, barely keeping his balance, and gaped at them. His eyebrows disappeared beneath a gauzy headdress. His brown eyes and the bridge of his nose were all she could see of his face, the rest of him covered in a robe that draped nearly to his ankles, protecting him from the harsh desert elements. Beneath the robe peeked a pair of denim pants and boots that had long been sun bleached and caked with sand.
He finished his own inspection of Cress and Thorne and lowered the gun. He began to speak and for a moment Cress thought that the sun and exhaustion had driven her mad after all—she didn’t understand a word he said.
Thorne’s grip tightened on her arms.
For a moment, the man stared at them in silence. Then he shifted, his eyebrows lowering and revealing flecks of gray in them.
“Universal, then?” he said, in a thick accent that still made it a struggle to capture the words. He scanned their ragged clothes and sheets. “You are not from here.”
“Yes—sir,” said Thorne, his voice rusty. “We need help. My … my wife and I were attacked and robbed two days ago. We have no more water. Please, can you help us?”
The man squinted. “Your eyes?”
Thorne’s lips puckered. He’d been trying to hide his new disability, but his eyes still looked unfocused. “The thieves gave me a good blow to the head,” he said, “and my sight’s been gone ever since. And my wife has a fever.”
The man nodded. “Of course. My—” He stumbled over the language. “My friends are not far. There is an oasis near here. We have a … a camp.”
Cress swooned. An oasis. A camp.
“I must bring the animal,” the man said, tilting his head toward the fallen creature. “Can you walk? Maybe … ten minutes?”
Thorne rubbed Cress’s arms. “We can walk.”
The ten minutes seemed like an hour to Cress as they followed the man through the desert, treading in the wake carved out by the animal’s carcass. Cress tried not to look at the poor beast, keeping her thoughts instead on the promise of safety.
When she spotted the oasis, like paradise before them, a sudden burst of joy clawed up and out of her throat.
They’d made it.
“Describe,” Thorne murmured, gripping her elbow.
“There’s a lake,” she said, knowing that this one was real and not sure how she ever could have confused that vague mirage with something so stark and vibrant. “Blue as the sky, and surrounded by grasses and maybe a few dozen trees … palm trees, I think. They’re tall and skinny and—”
“The people, Cress. Describe the people.”
“Oh.” She counted. “I can see seven people … I can’t tell their genders from here. Everyone is wearing pale-colored robes over their heads. And there are—I think, camels? Tied up near the water. And there’s a fire, and some people are setting out mats and tents. And there’s so much shade!”
The man with his kill stopped at the bottom of the slope.
“The man is waiting for us,” Cress said.
Thorne bent near to her and placed a kiss against her cheek. Cress froze. “Looks like we made it, Mrs. Smith.”
As they got closer to the camp, the people stood. Two members of the group walked out into the sand to greet them. Though they wore their cloaks over their heads, they’d pulled the covers down around their chins and Cress could see that one of them was a woman. The hunter spoke to them in his other language, and a mixture of sympathy and curiosity entered the faces of these strangers, but not without a touch of suspicion.
Though the woman’s eyes were the sharpest of the group, she was the first to smile. “What a trial you’ve been through,” she said, with an accent not quite as heavy as the hunter’s. “My name is Jina, and this is my husband, Niels. Welcome to our caravan. Come, we have plenty of food and water. Niels, assist the man with his bag.”
Her husband came forward to take the makeshift sack off Thorne’s shoulder. Though it had become lighter as their water had disappeared, Thorne’s face was one of relief to have the weight gone. “We have some food in there,” he said. “Preserved nutrition packs, mostly. It’s not much, but it’s yours, if you’ll help us.”
“Thank you for the offer,” said Jina, “but this is not a negotiation, young man. We will help you.”
Cress was grateful that no questions were asked as she and Thorne were led to the fire. The people shifted, eyeing them curiously as they made room on thickly woven mats. The hunter left them, dragging the animal’s carcass to some other corner of the camp.
“What kind of animal was that?” Cress asked, eyes stuck to the path left by its body.
“Desert addax,” said Niels, handing her and Thorne each a canteen full of water.
“It was beautiful.”
“It will also be delicious. Now drink.”
She wanted to mourn the animal, but the water was a blessed distraction. She dragged her attention to the canteen and did as she was told, drinking until her stomach ached from fullness.
The people remained largely silent, and Cress felt the presence of their curiosity and stares closing in around her. She avoided meeting their eyes, and unconsciously crept closer and closer against Thorne, until he had no choice but to put an arm around her.
“We’re deeply grateful to you,” he said, offering an easy smile to no one in particular.
“It was very lucky that you found us, or that Kwende found you,” said Jina. “The desert is not a kind place. You must have a very lucky star.”
Cress’s lips tugged into a smile.
“You’re very young.” The words sounded accusatory to Cress’s ears, but the woman’s face was kind. “How long have you been married?”
“Newlyweds,” said Thorne, giving Cress a squeeze. “This was supposed to be our honeymoon. So much for that lucky star, I guess.”
“And I’m not as young as I look,” Cress added, feeling like she had to offer something to the act—but her voice squeaked and she quickly regretted speaking.
Jina winked. “You’ll be grateful for that youthfulness someday.”
Cress lowered her gaze again, and was glad when a wide spoon and a bowl of steaming food was set before her, smelling exotic and spicy and rich.
She hesitated, and risked a sideways glance at the woman who had handed it to her, not sure if she was supposed to share or pass it to the next person or eat very slow and delicately or—
But within moments, everyone around the fire was enjoying their own food with relish. Flushing with hunger, Cress pulled the bowl onto her lap. She nibbled slowly at first, trying to identify the Earthen foods. Peas she easily recognized—they had those on Luna too—but there were some other sorts of vegetables that she didn’t know, mixed with rice and covered in a thick, aromatic sauce.
She scooped out a chunk of something yellowish and firm. She bit into it, and discovered it was tender and steaming on the inside.
“Don’t they have potatoes where you come from?”
Cress jerked her head up, and saw Jina watching her curiously. She gulped. “This sauce,” she said quietly, hoping Jina wouldn’t notice her evading the question. Potatoes, of course! Luna’s potatoes were a darker color, with a flakier texture. “What is it?”
“Just a simple curry. Do you like it?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Very much. Thank you.”