Wilde's Meadow by Wade Krystal

Author:Wade, Krystal [Wade, Krystal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620071083
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2012-11-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Cupping my hand over my mouth and nose, I draw in a slow, ragged breath. The stench in this cave is too much, but outside isn’t much better. When I called to the sprites earlier, I forgot to request they bring an air freshener.

I’m hungry but afraid anything I eat will come right back up. The putrid smells of rotting vegetation, daemon carcasses, and human remains do not make a good accompaniment to dinner.

Not that we have any.

Arland and I are curled into a ball on our thin, itchy blankets. The crackling fire in the middle of the cave sends plumes of gray smoke through the small opening above our heads and warms my arms.

I reach out for the sun, but it’s still well below the horizon. Not quite time for war.

Rhoswen crawls from the corner she’s rested alone in all night, then sits near the flames. Shaking her head, she pulls a small glass vial from the pocket inside her armor and spins it between her fingers. She removes the cork cap, then adds a few drops of clear liquid into the iron pot sitting on a flat stone over the fire.

“What’s that?” I whisper.

She glances at me and smiles, a drooping smile. “Jasmine oil. Your mother gave it to me before we left. She said to use it when my stomach could no longer handle the ill effects of war.” Rhoswen pauses, leans her head over the steaming pot, then draws in a deep breath. “I hope the smell does not bother you. Your mother said it would help with the anxious feelings.”

I’m sure my mother knew exactly when Rhoswen would use the flower extract. Something tells me she needs someone to talk to, and I prefer the sweetness over the smell of death any day. Laughing, I sit up.

Arland reaches for me, but he’s asleep so deeply I’m sure he won’t stir for long.

“The smell doesn’t bother me. Do you mind if I join you? I can’t sleep. I’ve already thrown up a few times since we came in here; maybe the jasmine will help me, too.” I hate throwing up, and I hate that every time I’ve run out of this cave, the Morans and Bheagans stared up at me. At least I can’t see the Gaothans.

The small, blonde Ground Dweller shakes her head and scoots over to give me room to sit by the pot. Crossing my legs in front of me, I inhale the sweet jasmine extracts, but hints of sulfur mix with the welcome air and turn my stomach. My mouth waters with a steady stream of salty fluids. I jump to my feet and run out of the cave. Finding a pile of boulders covered in bright-green moss, I throw up next to them, covering the ground in little more than clear liquids.

I take a deep breath and gag again. My stomach squeezes and my eyes water, but there’s nothing left in me to heave. I haven’t eaten well for days—months, considering how long everyone says we’ve been gone.

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