The Twin Stars by Bridgette Dutta Portman

Author:Bridgette Dutta Portman [Portman, Bridgette Dutta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan1Studios Inc.

13

Into the Maze

The heat hit Olive before the pain did. She opened her eyes to glaring sunlight. She was sprawled on her stomach, her head uncovered and her left arm outstretched, its sleeve soiled with dried blood. Mercifully, she lay in the shadow of something large—except for her left hand, which lay directly in the sunlight and felt as though it was on fire. Pain stabbed through her shoulder as she pulled the hand back toward her. She could tell, even without looking, that the skin was burnt and blistered. Grimacing, she struggled to push herself up, but she could not move her legs. Then the memories came back in a rush, and she realized the thing casting a shadow over her, and pinning her down, was the giant cactigore.

She struggled again and sighed with relief when she managed to wiggle her toes. She had been extremely lucky; the cactigore’s spines must have dug into the ground and prevented the entirety of its weight from falling on her, and its great bulk had shielded her from the suns. What would happen, though, if the heat became too intense for even the thick-skinned plant, and it tried to spin and burrow underground—with her beneath it?

The thought compelled her to fight harder to free herself. She dug and scratched desperately at the ground until she collapsed, covered in sweat from heat and exhaustion, her head on her arms, her heartbeat throbbing in her shoulder.

There was no way out. Even if, by some miracle, the cactigore did not burrow underground and shred her in the process, she would succumb to thirst or heatstroke before long. She called out for the fluttercamel, but there was no response. The animal had probably fled far away from the prickly forest. Fluttercamels were well-adapted to the desert. This one might even find his way back to the village. He had taken Olive’s bags of supplies with him, though, including the tent and all the food and water. Olive had nothing now.

She was going to die.

It’s your own fault, the cruel voice in her head whispered, and she did not even attempt to resist the thought. She knew it was true. She had been foolish and impulsive. She had tried to traverse the open desert without a firm plan, without a map, without having considered all the possible dangers. It doesn’t matter, the voice continued as Olive closed her eyes. No one will miss you. Not here or in your own world. You’re doing everyone a favor.

The voice held an icy and unsympathetic tone, but something about it also calmed and numbed her, lulling her toward unconsciousness. The heat lessened. The pain in her hand and shoulder ebbed. She felt a cold breeze sweep across her body, and she wanted to surrender to it, let it carry her away, to never have to worry about anything again. No more washing hands and checking stoves. No more nightmares about Coseema’s death. No more doubt. No more guilt. No more fear.

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