Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,68

promise of safety.

When she spotted the oasis, like paradise before them, a sudden burst of joy clawed up and out of her throat.

They’d made it.

“Describe,” Thorne murmured, gripping her elbow.

“There’s a lake,” she said, knowing that this one was real and not sure how she ever could have confused that vague mirage with something so stark and vibrant. “Blue as the sky, and surrounded by grasses and maybe a few dozen trees … palm trees, I think. They’re tall and skinny and—”

“The people, Cress. Describe the people.”

“Oh.” She counted. “I can see seven people … I can’t tell their genders from here. Everyone is wearing pale-colored robes over their heads. And there are—I think, camels? Tied up near the water. And there’s a fire, and some people are setting out mats and tents. And there’s so much shade!”

The man with his kill stopped at the bottom of the slope.

“The man is waiting for us,” Cress said.

Thorne bent near to her and placed a kiss against her cheek. Cress froze. “Looks like we made it, Mrs. Smith.”

As they got closer to the camp, the people stood. Two members of the group walked out into the sand to greet them. Though they wore their cloaks over their heads, they’d pulled the covers down around their chins and Cress could see that one of them was a woman. The hunter spoke to them in his other language, and a mixture of sympathy and curiosity entered the faces of these strangers, but not without a touch of suspicion.

Though the woman’s eyes were the sharpest of the group, she was the first to smile. “What a trial you’ve been through,” she said, with an accent not quite as heavy as the hunter’s. “My name is Jina, and this is my husband, Niels. Welcome to our caravan. Come, we have plenty of food and water. Niels, assist the man with his bag.”

Her husband came forward to take the makeshift sack off Thorne’s shoulder. Though it had become lighter as their water had disappeared, Thorne’s face was one of relief to have the weight gone. “We have some food in there,” he said. “Preserved nutrition packs, mostly. It’s not much, but it’s yours, if you’ll help us.”

“Thank you for the offer,” said Jina, “but this is not a negotiation, young man. We will help you.”

Cress was grateful that no questions were asked as she and Thorne were led to the fire. The people shifted, eyeing them curiously as they made room on thickly woven mats. The hunter left them, dragging the animal’s carcass to some other corner of the camp.

“What kind of animal was that?” Cress asked, eyes stuck to the path left by its body.

“Desert addax,” said Niels, handing her and Thorne each a canteen full of water.

“It was beautiful.”

“It will also be delicious. Now drink.”

She wanted to mourn the animal, but the water was a blessed distraction. She dragged her attention to the canteen and did as she was told, drinking until her stomach ached from fullness.

The people remained largely silent, and Cress felt the presence of their curiosity and stares closing in around her. She avoided meeting their eyes, and unconsciously crept closer and closer against Thorne, until he had no choice but to put an arm around her.

“We’re deeply grateful to you,” he said, offering an easy smile to no one in particular.

“It was very lucky that you found us, or that Kwende found you,” said Jina. “The desert is not a kind place. You must have a very lucky star.”

Cress’s lips tugged into a smile.

“You’re very young.” The words sounded accusatory to Cress’s ears, but the woman’s face was kind. “How long have you been married?”

“Newlyweds,” said Thorne, giving Cress a squeeze. “This was supposed to be our honeymoon. So much for that lucky star, I guess.”

“And I’m not as young as I look,” Cress added, feeling like she had to offer something to the act—but her voice squeaked and she quickly regretted speaking.

Jina winked. “You’ll be grateful for that youthfulness someday.”

Cress lowered her gaze again, and was glad when a wide spoon and a bowl of steaming food was set before her, smelling exotic and spicy and rich.

She hesitated, and risked a sideways glance at the woman who had handed it to her, not sure if she was supposed to share or pass it to the next person or eat very slow and delicately or—

But within moments, everyone around the fire was enjoying their own food with relish. Flushing with hunger,