Dying to Return: The Station Series 3 by Trish Marie Dawson

Author:Trish Marie Dawson [Dawson, Trish Marie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Pretty Little Weeds Publishing
Published: 2014-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

***

The rest of the walk to the coast is spent in awkward silence. Rush hasn’t said anything to me and even if he did speak, I’m not sure if I want to hear what he has to say. Once we reach the top of the last hill, the familiar place of my arrival stretches out before us, and just beyond it is the coast of Lurriah. The jagged cliff faces drop down toward the crystal ocean. It’s just as I remember it. The only difference about today is that the clouds hang over the horizon in tight, puffy bunches like cotton balls.

Rush descends the hillside ahead of me, taking the small slope in long strides. I watch him walk and no longer wonder why his interest with bringing me here and helping me has become such a fascination for him. When we first met I found him to be arrogant and pompous and rude and unpleasant. He obviously didn’t feel the same way or he would never have taken me to his home to meet his people and his family. He would never have trained me and opened his own thoughts to me had he not known from the start what he wanted, and that was me.

But I’m not for sale. Not even for borrow.

The transference taught me more than how to become a Seer. It answered questions about me that I didn’t know how to ask. It showed me what I had the potential to be for the others at the Station. It reminded me of how I got to this hill that I’m standing on now in royal dress; of what I threw away so carelessly – my life.

I also learned how this made Rush feel. He doesn’t understand it – not completely. His people don’t commit suicide. It’s not an option. Life is to be treasured and valued on Dhara. I suppose that’s the way it should be on Earth, but the difference is the pain of our people; humans have a LOT of it.

With a heavy sigh I begin to follow Rush and notice that even with flats on, the grass below my feet feels soft and cushiony like memory foam. The crisp air of the sea fingers my skin and leaves a salty taste on my lips, like the wind has kissed me goodbye.

Rush is staring off into the sky at a moon so close I can’t see the lower half of the rocky sphere, and I wonder if he’s been there. I wonder if it’s possible. I suppose nothing is impossible anymore.

“After you take me back, are you coming home?” I ask, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. The fabric blows against my stomach from the breeze and though I’m more covered up now than I was when we met, I feel stripped and exposed.

“Hmmm. I don’t know the answer to that,” he says quietly. Clearing his throat, he turns away from the expansive sky with the moons and stars and suns and reaches for me.

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