Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Being out here in the middle of nowhere will be death for him if he doesn’t awaken.
Daylight comes, and Akara returns with a bellow. She slaps at the water with her fins to demand that I come greet her. I wade back out to her, my face raw from the sunlight and my mouth parched. My stomach rumbles, but I’ve been saving the white flesh from the nuts for Ranan in case he should wake up. But now that Akara has returned, I have a new idea.
“I’m glad you’re back, because we need to talk,” I tell the turtle as I wade out to her side. Akara immediately comes to me and pushes her nose against my hands, not unlike the barn cats used to back at the farm in Parness. I stroke her nose and images of Ranan drift through my mind, pushed to me by the turtle. She’s asking how he is. I send my thoughts back to her, filling my head with the unconscious Ranan and then mental images of Ranan back at the grotto, Ranan awake and smiling. “We need to go back. I can’t tend to him here. Can you take us?”
She makes a sound I don’t quite grasp and turns her head in a different direction, as if pointing at something. I hope we’re thinking along the same lines. There’s no way to tell.
I’m going to have to gamble that she understands me. I think she does, because when I move back to Ranan’s side, she remains calm, leisurely turning her large body in the shallow waters. That’s a good sign. I bend over Ranan, ignoring the throb of my bare feet and the pain of my overly pink sunburned skin. I can bear all that if Ranan lives.
Touching his cheek, I stroke it to try and wake him. “Ranan? Can you rouse? I need to get you on Akara’s back and it’s going to be a lot easier if you’re awake.”
There’s no response. I stroke his cheek again, and he moans, the sound heart-wrenching.
I need to get him back to the grotto and soon. Leaning in, I kiss his cheek and stroke his face. “I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
I have to.
It takes a long time for me to tug him back to the water’s edge. The sandy strip turns into rocks, and I don’t want to knock him against them. Plus, he’s twice as heavy as me. Using the fabric as a travois, I manage to drag him a little at a time, and the fabric rips and tears in my grip. By the time I get him into the shallows, it’s practically shredded. I manage to pull him through the water over to Akara’s side, and then have to figure out how to get him up the turtle’s sloping back. I send a lot of mental images to Akara and use the strips of fabric to make a harness over his shoulders, and brace myself on the join of Akara’s head and neck, straining to haul him upward.
The hamarii turtle flicks her head, sending me tumbling backward, but it also shoves Ranan’s limp form high enough that I can haul him up.
I want to weep with joy as Akara pushes off from the spit, heading out into the deeper waters once more. But there’s no relief for me just yet. I gather the ripped remnants of fabric and start to piece it back together with knots, because Ranan needs to keep his head covered from the relentless sun.
I can rest when we return to the grotto, I tell myself.
Nothing else matters if Ranan dies.
Chapter
Eighteen
RANAN
Islowly come to.
My mouth feels like a wad of dried out seaweed. It tastes rotten and yet is somehow parched. Something pricks my hot, throbbing leg, sending a dagger of pain sheeting up my calf. I jerk, trying to move away from the stinging pain, but something heavy weighs down my thigh.
“Of course now you’re awake,” I hear Vali mutter. “Your timing could not be worse.”
My eyes feel gritty, and I manage to open them a sliver. As I do, I see her naked back—fiery red with sunburn—facing me. She’s sitting on my thigh. Another hot, stabbing pain shoots up my leg and I vaguely remember the sea dragon. It’s hard to talk—my tongue feels as if it’s coated with sand. “What…are you…doing?”
“Sewing your wound. Be still or I’ll have to strap you down.”
She’s sewing my wound? I repeat the thought several times.
She’s…sewing…
…my wound?
When did she get here? Wait, where is here? I focus my gaze on the ceiling and see the familiar stone of the grotto. Another stab lances up my leg and I hiss. “Ow!”
“This was easier when you were unconscious,” she mutters.
“How long…?”
“Almost two days that I know of. I’ll give you some water once I’m done with this.” She pauses, blows out a loud breath, then breathes in again just as deeply.