Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
For a moment, I want to curl up and just cry. Cry for home, cry for David, cry for all the hopes and dreams I had that disappeared the moment I saw his nosebleed.
But that’s not what I signed up for.
I swallow the knot in my throat and finish eating. I give Dingle the crumbs of my food and pull out the map, because it’s something to do and I can’t sleep on a muddy knoll covered in roots. The flies and mosquitos are thick now, to the point that I pull the neck of my dress over my mouth and nose to keep the bugs from getting into them as I breathe. With annoyance, I notice not a single insect touches Kalos or his pale, porcelain skin. Figures. Waving a hand at the bug-infested air, I unroll the heavy parchment and peer at the black lines covering it. The moonlight is decent, but it takes me a lot of squinting before I realize I can’t read the language.
Well, fudge. I squint again just to make sure and hold it out to Kalos. “Can you read this?”
He ignores the map and eyes me. “Why?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Then why did you bring it?”
I’m tempted to roll it up again and beat him over the head with it. He can’t help himself, I remind the ugly little voice inside me. “We’re lost and a map is a good way to figure out where we’re going.”
He sits down next to me, his long, dramatic white hair hanging in his face. It’s tangled and messy, but he clearly doesn’t care. “And where do you think we should go?”
“No clue. Want to suggest someplace?”
Kalos eyes me with disdain.
“Thought not.” I rustle the map like I’m reading an important newspaper and pull it close to my cloth-covered nose again. No dice. I’ll have to look at it in the morning, when bugs aren’t in danger of flying into my eyes. I settle the open map over my head and lie back against my pack.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to try to sleep,” I tell him.
“Wonderful,” he says in a tone that indicates it’s anything but.
I want to tell him that he’s not exactly helping the situation, but I’m too tired. I leave the unfolded map on my face and close my eyes, hoping I can get some sort of rest. Before I know it, there are birds chirping, my back aches from the awkward angle I fell asleep in, and Dingle is chewing on my boot lace.
I jerk upright, wiping at my face. The cloth falls away from my mouth, and I’m disgusted to see a few dead bugs stuck to the other side of the fabric. I wipe at my eyes, find them gritty, and shudder with revulsion. Please let that just be dirt. I take the map away from Dingle’s hungry mouth, give him a stick to chew on instead, and look around for Kalos.
The god is seated a short distance away on the largest root, his pristine clothes mud-spattered and his silken hair tangled and hanging in clumps around his head. His back is to me, and he gazes up at the sunrise in peaceful silence. He seems serene. I’m envious of that, given that I’ve just woken up in a bug-infested swamp and I’m covered in mud.
My stomach growls.
And I’m hungry. God, I am always hungry.
I shove another traveling cake into my mouth, drink some water, and grab my map and move over to his side. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” He eyes me as my mud-crusted boots squish in the sludge at our feet and my wet hem slaps against his.
“Well, we’re alive and whole, so yes, I’m counting this as a good morning.” I beam at him, determined to start the day off on the right note. “You’re going to help me read a map.”
“Why would I do that?” His gaze is bored.
I consider my answer. “Because otherwise I will nag you incessantly.”
“You already do.”
Hm. “Do you like music?”
“No.”
“Then I will sing showtunes, very loudly, and very badly, until you help me.” I hold the unrolled map out to him. “Are you a fan of Chicago?”
“I don’t even know what that is,” he says in that miffed voice of his, but he takes the map from me and eyes it. “What am I looking at?”
“Where are we on the map?”
“How should I know?”
“I was told you always return to the same spots in every Anticipation. Point out those spots to me on the map and we’ll narrow it down.” I give him an encouraging look and pat his arm. “You can do it.”
“I know I can do it. I’m not a child.”
Then don’t act like one, I think, but I don’t say it aloud. I just keep smiling.
After a moment’s casual, half-assed study, he sighs. “I don’t know the names of the cities. The High Father wipes my memories when I’m sent to the mortal realm.”