Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,43
smell of freedom, but Thorne was nudging her forward before the moment had settled.
At the end of the docking hatch was the rail and two steps leading down to where a podship normally attached, but now there was only sand, tinted lavender as night’s shadows crept forward. It had already started to blow up onto the second step and Cress had a vision of the satellite being slowly buried beneath it, disappearing forever in the desert.
And then she looked out, past the railing and the dunes, toward the rolling horizon. The sky was a haze of violet, and where that faded away—blue and black and stars. The same stars she’d known all her life, and yet now they were spread out like a blanket over her. Now there was an entire sky and an entire world ready to engulf her.
Her head swam. Suddenly dizzy, Cress stumbled backward, crashing into Thorne.
“What? What is it?”
She tried to swallow down the rising panic, this sensation that her existence was as small and unimportant as the tiniest fleck of sand blowing against her shins. There was a whole world—a whole planet. And she was stuck somewhere in the middle of it, away from everything. There were no walls, no boundaries, nothing to hide behind. A shudder swept over her, goose bumps crawling across her bare arms.
“Cress. What happened? What do you see?” Thorne’s fingers tightened on her arms, and she realized she was trembling.
She stammered twice before forcing the thought out of her head. “It—it’s so big.”
“What’s so big?”
“Everything. Earth. The sky. It didn’t seem so big from space.”
Her pulse was a drum, thundering through every artery. She could hardly take in any air, and she had to cover her face and turn away before she could breathe again. Even then the sensation was painful.
Suddenly she was crying, without knowing when the tears had started.
Thorne’s hands found her elbows, tender and gentle. There was a moment in which she expected to be taken into his arms, pressed warm and safe against his chest. She yearned for it.
But instead, he shook her—hard.
“Stop it!”
Cress hiccupped.
“What is the number one thing people die from in the desert?”
She blinked, and another hot tear slipped down her cheek. “Wh-what?”
“The number one cause of deaths. What is it?”
“De-dehydration?” she said, recalling the Survival 101 lecture he’d given while filling up their water bottles.
“And what does crying do?”
It took a moment. “Dehydrates?”
“Exactly.” His grip relaxed. “It’s all right to be scared. I get that until now most of your existence has been contained in two hundred square meters. In fact, so far you’ve shown yourself to be saner than I expected.”
She sniffed, unsure if he’d just complimented or insulted her.
“But I need you to pull yourself together. You may have noticed that I’m not exactly in prime form right now, and I am relying on you to be aware and observant and help us find our way out of this, because if we don’t … I don’t know about you, but I’m just not fond of the idea of being stranded out here and eaten alive by vultures. So, can I depend on you to hold it together? For both of us?”
“Yes,” she whispered, though her chest was about to burst with all the doubts being crammed into it.
Thorne squinted and she didn’t think he believed her.
“I’m not convinced that you fully grasp the situation here, Cress. We will be eaten. Alive. By vultures. Can you visualize that for a second?”
“Y-yes. Vultures. I understand.”
“Good. Because I need you. And those are not words that I throw around every day. Now, are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. Just give me—I just need a moment.”
This time, she took in an extra deep breath and shut her eyes and grappled for a daydream, any daydream …
“I am an explorer,” she whispered, “setting courageously off into the wild unknown.” It was not a daydream she’d ever had before, but she felt the familiar comfort of her imagination wrapping around her. She was an archaeologist, a scientist, a treasure hunter. She was a master of land and sea. “My life is an adventure,” she said, growing confident as she opened her eyes again. “I will not be shackled to this satellite anymore.”
Thorne tilted his head to one side. He waited for three heartbeats before sliding one hand down into hers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “But we’ll go with it.”
Sixteen
Thorne passed the makeshift cane to his opposite side so he