Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,67

that she could speak to it with her mind, ask it to lead them to safety. It would recognize the goodness inside her and take pity, like an ancient animal goddess sent to guide her to her destiny.

“An animal?” Thorne said, and she realized he’d been waiting for her to further explain what she was seeing.

“It has long legs and horns and … and it’s beautiful.”

“Oh, good, we’re back to this, then.” She could hear the smile in his tone, but she dared not take her gaze from the creature, lest it dissolve into the air like a phantom.

“Could mean there’s a water source nearby,” Thorne mused. “We should keep going.”

Cress took a tentative step forward. She felt the slip of sand more keenly than she had before, and recognized just how clumsy she and Thorne were, stumbling and scrambling over the dunes, while this creature stood so elegant and calm.

The creature tilted its head, not moving as Cress inched closer.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the beast’s eyelids flickered and it turned its head toward something on the other side of the dune.

The crack of a gunshot rang out across the desert.

Twenty-Four

The creature balked and tumbled down the dune, blood dribbling from the wound in its side. Cress cried out and fell backward. Thorne pulled her down into the sand. “Cress! Are you all right?”

She was shaking, watching as the animal fell and rolled the rest of the way, gathering clumps of sand on its hide. She wanted to scream, but any noise was paralyzed inside her, and she could think of nothing but that the animal had wanted to say something to her and now the world was tilting and fading and she was going to be sick and there was blood in the sand and she didn’t know what had happened and—

“Cress! Cress!”

Thorne’s hands were on her, searching, and she realized dully that he thought she had been shot. She grabbed his wrists, holding them tight and trying to convey the truth through her grip when words wouldn’t come to her.

“I’m—I’m all—”

She paused. They both heard it. Panting, along with the slip and scramble of footsteps.

Cress cowered, pressing into Thorne’s embrace as terror washed over her. A man appeared at the top of the dune, carrying a shotgun.

He saw the animal first, dying or dead, but then spotted Cress and Thorne from the corner of his eye. He yelped, barely keeping his balance, and gaped at them. His eyebrows disappeared beneath a gauzy headdress. His brown eyes and the bridge of his nose were all she could see of his face, the rest of him covered in a robe that draped nearly to his ankles, protecting him from the harsh desert elements. Beneath the robe peeked a pair of denim pants and boots that had long been sun bleached and caked with sand.

He finished his own inspection of Cress and Thorne and lowered the gun. He began to speak and for a moment Cress thought that the sun and exhaustion had driven her mad after all—she didn’t understand a word he said.

Thorne’s grip tightened on her arms.

For a moment, the man stared at them in silence. Then he shifted, his eyebrows lowering and revealing flecks of gray in them.

“Universal, then?” he said, in a thick accent that still made it a struggle to capture the words. He scanned their ragged clothes and sheets. “You are not from here.”

“Yes—sir,” said Thorne, his voice rusty. “We need help. My … my wife and I were attacked and robbed two days ago. We have no more water. Please, can you help us?”

The man squinted. “Your eyes?”

Thorne’s lips puckered. He’d been trying to hide his new disability, but his eyes still looked unfocused. “The thieves gave me a good blow to the head,” he said, “and my sight’s been gone ever since. And my wife has a fever.”

The man nodded. “Of course. My—” He stumbled over the language. “My friends are not far. There is an oasis near here. We have a … a camp.”

Cress swooned. An oasis. A camp.

“I must bring the animal,” the man said, tilting his head toward the fallen creature. “Can you walk? Maybe … ten minutes?”

Thorne rubbed Cress’s arms. “We can walk.”

The ten minutes seemed like an hour to Cress as they followed the man through the desert, treading in the wake carved out by the animal’s carcass. Cress tried not to look at the poor beast, keeping her thoughts instead on the