Planet Urth: The Savage Lands (Book 2) (4 page)

I
roll my shoulders and rub my throbbing thighs and legs and silently wish we would stumble upon a hot spring.  I would like nothing more than to submerge my sore body up to my chin and revel in the soothing heat.  I daydream about what it would be like to indulge in such an experience, to feel the tension inside me, inside each and every muscle, melt and become one with the water.  My eyes burn and feel as if they have sand particles in them.  I allow my eyelids to slowly slide shut.  I envision myself wrapped in warmth, in soothing ripples of comfort.  My breathing becomes slow and steady.  Little by little, I feel as if I am falling away from my body, as if my mind has separated from it and is floating away on a lazy river. 

The rough, rigid bark of the tree trunk scrapes against my cheek as my temple knocks against it.  It comes as a rude awakening in every sense of the expression.  I realize I fell asleep while standing
and keeled over into the tree. 

“Avery, are you okay?” I hear Will ask.  His voice is filled with concern. 

My vision is blurry for a moment but I see that he is moving toward me quickly.  I blink several times in an attempt to clear the haziness.

I am embarrassed beyond words. 
My head pounds in time with the rest of my limbs and my cheek stings from the scrape. 

“I’m fine,” I say
to Will quickly.  “I just, uh, bumped my head,” I add and nod stiffly. 

My cheeks are blazing.  I can practically see the glow from them lighting the space in front of me.  I curse my fair skin under my breath.  If I were as fortunate as Will and his siblings to have a rich, olive skin tone my shame would be hidden better.  But I do not.  And skin tone is the least of my problems at the moment.  Eating and getting our group moving so that we can find a suitable place for all of us to sleep is. 

Will’s brows gather.  “Are you sure?  You look a little pale and your cheek is bleeding.  Maybe you should sit for a minute.”

I am about to open my mouth and dismiss Will’s worries when
June approaches and steps between he and I.  “Let me take a look,” she says to me and sets about inspecting my cheek.  “Oh, it’s fine.  It’s just a little scratch.  No big deal,” she comments casually then changes the subject completely.  “I hate to be a pest, but shouldn’t we eat and start hiking?” 

I am in awe of June’s t
act, as well as her timing.  I’m grateful that she has not only diverted the attention from my humiliating face-first fall into the tree but also appears to have read my thoughts exactly.  I want to scoop her up and hug her, but settle for offering her a small, sly grin instead.

“
Yes June.  You’re right.  That’s exactly what we should do.  Thank you.”  My thanks are more sincere than they seem on the surface.  I hope I didn’t overemphasize the words as I spoke them.  I don’t want Will to think I’m unappreciative of his concern.  I am thankful.  But I’m not accustomed to fusses being made over me.  “I’ll hunt for some breakfast for us and we can get out of here,” I say to June then smile warmly at both she and Will.  Animals have been easier to find farther away from our cave so hunting should not be an issue, a point that pleases me.  In my condition, I doubt I could handle wandering too far, or worse, engaging in a lengthy chase.

June winks at me.  “I’ll go see if Riley and Oliver want to help get a fire started
so that when you come back, we’re ready to cook,” she says then turns and heads to where Riley is inspecting what appear to be fangs just a few spear lengths away.  I assume they belonged to the bat that tried to descend on us during the night.  Perhaps they did not.  Either way, whatever creature they belonged to, the fangs are all that remain of it.  The Lurkers took care of the rest.

Will stays behind and we are alone. 

“Seriously, are you all right?  You fell pretty hard,” he says softly.

I scrub my face with both hands.  As I lower them I murmur, “I don’t know if I’m okay.”

Will takes a step toward me.  “Then why don’t you sit.  I’ll hunt and you can just, I don’t know, be still for the first time since I’ve met you.”

“Huh, I don’t know if I can do that,” I say.  “And for the recor
d, I didn’t fall exactly.  I fell asleep.  Is that technically falling?  Maybe it is,” I ramble.

Will’s eyes widen.  His expression is equal parts concern and sympathy.  “You haven’t slept in days,” he says.  “Not at the cave and not in the tree.”

“Nope.  And the night before you came was the first time the Lurkers spent the night howling and hissing just beyond our boulder.”

“So for three nights you haven’
t slept,” he says. 

“Yes, that’s right,” I admit.

I watch as his lips press together tightly and form a line.  I don’t know whether he is angry, scared or worried, or a mix of all three.  My thoughts are too fuzzy and muddled to identify his expression.  I decide to ask him flat out.  Frankly, I am too tired to do anything else.

“Will, why do you look so mad?  Are you mad or
worried or something else?  I’m too out of it to tell.  Just make it easy for me and tell me, because when you stand there looking like that, it confuses and upsets me.”

I cannot believe I just said what I said.  I was direct, blunt even. 
My lack of social skills is glaringly obvious.  Candid words haphazardly rushed from me, and I worry I have offended Will.  We’re linked together now.  The last thing I want is to have a tense relationship with him.  Allowing the first thing that comes to mind to heedlessly spill from my lips may have done just that. 

A nervous moment passes between us, during which I contemplate attempting to smooth matters, knowing fully that doing so would likely be a debacle. 

I am relieved when the corners of his mouth bend upward and a slow smile spreads across his face. 

“Mad?” he asks.  “
Why in the world would I be mad?” Will is shaking his head.

I shrug.  “I don’t know,” I answer
and shift uncomfortably.

“Well I’m not mad.  I’m worried.
  I want you to be well.  You’ve done so much for me and my sister and brother.  I want to help take care of you.”

Through the fogginess of my sleep-deprived confusion, I swear I heard him say he want
s to help take care of me.  I’m not positive, but I think he did say those words.  I don’t know how to react to such a statement. 

“Uh, thanks,” I say awkwardly.  “That’s, uh, nice of you,” I add and bob my head.  I probably look like a fool and know that my head is little more than a crimson blob with curly blo
nde hair attached to it. But I’m too tired to care. 

“No problem,” he says. 

A small stretch of silence spreads between us.  He looks from me to the woods back to me then the children and back to me again. 

“So, I guess I’ll go hunt,” I tell him when I cannot endure the self-consciousness I am feeling another second longer.

“Oh, no, you should stay here and rest,” he says and places a hand on my upper arm. 

His touch is warm and pleasant.  I want to close my eyes and savor it.  I would likely fall asleep immediately again and collapse atop him so I do not dare.

“No, that’s okay.  You’re tired too.  You didn’t sleep the last two nights either,” I say.

“You haven’t slept in three nights.  You have me beat,” he says.

And you watched both your parents die at the hands of Urthmen
, I think to myself.  The thought echoes in my brain so noisily that for a moment, I worry I spoke it aloud.  I glance at Will to gauge his reaction.  I see that he is still wearing a small smile and looking at me expectantly.  I assume that if I had said what I thought, he would not look so serene. 

“Fine.  Whatever you say.  I
’m too beat to argue with you,” I say feebly.

“Good,” Will says and rubs my
arm gently.  The act makes goose bumps dot my flesh.  His eyes lower to the roughened skin beneath his fingertips, and I realize that he notices them.  “Are you cold?” he asks.

I step back, away from him.  “No, I mean, yes. I uh, I just caught a chill.  That’s all,” I fumble pathetically.  I cannot tell him that every time my skin comes in contact with his I feel as if I am being covered in a blanket of pleasant tingles.  Even in my exhaustion-induced stupor I know better than to admit that. 

“Oh,” Will replies.  His features are clouded by an expression I cannot name precisely.  It is difficult to read faces when I have to concentrate so hard on not falling asleep or just falling in general.  “As long as you’re okay,” he adds and smiles thinly.

“I’m fine,” I say and smile back at him.  “I’ll go join the kids.”

“Okay.  See you soon,” he says.

I start to walk toward the children when Will calls out to me.

“Avery!” he says my name with urgency. 

I spin.  The act makes me dizzy.  “Yes?” I respond.

Will inhales and opens his mouth to speak but closes it immediately.  He waves me off.  “Never mind,” he says. 

“
Are you sure?” I ask him and am thoroughly confused. 

He is
acting strangely.  I hope I haven’t done something to cause him to feel bad.  He has lost his parents and is the sole guardian of his brother and sister.  He’s come under attack from Urthmen and had Lurkers scratching and clawing to enter the cave June and I took him to.  He’s had an extraordinarily awful few days.  I don’t want to make matters worse. 

“Yep,” he says.  “I forgot what I wanted to say.”

“Oh, okay,” I say and take a step toward the children.  I can’t shake the sense that he’s not telling me the truth, that he wanted to say something to me but changed his mind.  I don’t know.  Maybe it is just fatigue scrambling my brain.  I let it go.  “Be safe, Will.  I’ll see you soon,” I say. 

Will smiles then turns and takes off into the woods. 

When he is out of sight, June rushes to my side. 

“What did he say?” she asks.  A mischievous twinkle sparkles in her eyes. 

“Nothing.  He forgot what he called me for,” I answer honestly.

“Right,” June purses her lips and draws out each sound in the word.  “And you believe him?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” I say. 

“Okay, believe whatever you want to believe, but I think he wanted to tell you something important,” she persists.

“Oh yeah?  And what might that be, my all-knowing sister?”

“I don’t know all that.  He just had a look on his face like he had something to say.” Her singsong voice suggests she is implying Will intended to mak
e some major declaration.  I don’t know what ideas are rattling around in her head, but I cannot entertain any of them.  I worry what she thinks is right, that maybe Will planned to part ways with us and tell me as much before he went hunting.  I don’t want to tell her and upset her because I am unsure.  Regardless, I can’t handle the thought of him finding me, us, so repugnant he’d rather take his chances with his siblings than continue with us.

“Yes, June, he did, a
nd he forgot what it was,” I say to try to end the conversation. 

“I don’t know,” June continues.  “I think it was something more.”

“And I think you’re wrong,” I say snippily.  I catch myself and soften my tone.  “Will and I have not slept in days.  He watched his parents die at the hands of Urthmen and is now responsible for his sister and brother,” I say.  “I’m pretty sure all that entitles him to a little forgetfulness.”

Ju
ne’s cheeks are streaked with bands of pink.  “When you put it that way,” she starts.  I hear a tremor in her voice and immediately feel guilty for being sharp with her at first. 

“I’m sorry, June. 
I’m grumpy and tired and achy.  You don’t deserve to have me act like a jerk.  You’re going through all this with me.”  I pull her toward me and hug her tightly.  “Sorry.”

June hugs me back.  Her arms wrap around my waist tightly before she drops them and steps back. 

“I’d better get the fire started before Will gets back,” she says and smiles. 

“I’ll help,” I offer.

The children and I light a small fire.  Will returns shortly after and carries two rabbits by their feet.  He and I skin and prepare the rabbits then roast them.  We eat quickly then sip from our canteens.  Once the fire is extinguished and any evidence of its existence has been cleared, we begin hiking in hopes of finding a final place to stay for the night. 

As I walk, I feel as if I am slogging through deep mud.  My legs are heavy and my muscles ache.  Too little sleep in the last several days has caught up with me.  Spending the night in the tree did not help matters.  We managed to survive, therefore my goal was achieved, b
ut in many ways I feel as if I’m a dead person walking.  My arms feel disconnected and leaden, as if they belong to someone else entirely, and my eyelids shutter closed every few minutes.  I know that I can’t possibly spend another night in a tree.  I do not have the strength to climb, much less keep June stable while clinging to branches.  There isn’t a doubt in my mind that even if I somehow manage to make it high into a treetop and by some stroke of magnificent luck am able to steady June as we perch, I will fall asleep immediately and plummet to my death.  No, the tree option is out of the question for tonight.  That leaves me with few, if any, other choices.  For the time being, however, I cannot focus on trees and places where we can’t stay.  I must concentrate on getting us closer to the edge of the woods, to where weeds and wildflowers meet asphalt and concrete.