Blaine in and drag behind me. I’m furious with the Rebels for what has happened to Blaine, but I would be foolish to not continue my trek there. I need Harvey and there is nothing but an execution waiting for me in Taem. Plus, Blaine requires medical attention. Badly.
I count seven dead bodies among the wrecked camp. I feel like I should bury them, but don’t have the time. Instead, I pile the remains atop a still smoking tent and light them on fire. A team of black crows, annoyed that I have stolen their breakfast, lurk overhead as we leave the camp. They follow us for most of the morning, flying in low circles and cawing eerily as the fog dissipates.
I head north, counting fifteen dead Order members over the course of the day. More than half of Evan’s mission team has been lost. The little water I have left goes to Blaine, and I have to hold his mouth open and force the liquid down his throat.
That night I catch a rabbit for dinner. I try to feed Blaine, but he can’t stomach the meat. I run out of water the following morning and am forced to sip dew from cupped leaves in a futile attempt to quench my thirst.
I continue this trend daily. I drag Blaine behind me. We eat what I can kill. I try to keep us hydrated. Blaine has been fading in and out of consciousness for the better part of a day when I begin to lose faith. The thirst is getting to me. Sometimes I’ll see a Rebel ahead or Craw, and then I blink and nothing is there. I keep heading north but cover less ground with each passing hour. Night and day become one and the same. North and south blend. I could be dragging Blaine in wide circles and I wouldn’t know the difference. My head hurts and my throat burns so intensely I’m afraid it may catch fire.
Maybe I will never find water. Frank said it was scarce, a rare and coveted resource. What if this forest has already been stripped dry? What if its rivers are dammed, and its lakes pumped, and I find nothing but empty reservoirs?
On the third day without water, I stumble upon a stagnant pond of filthy green slime. I drop to my knees in front of it. This? After all my searching? It’s too still, completely undrinkable. I pull Blaine’s body toward mine and hold his head in my lap. His lips are split and dry, his eyes struggling to stay open. I watch his chest heave, his breathing pattern erratic. I’ve failed the people I love. First Emma. Now Blaine.
And then I hear something: a soft, delicate flutter. My heart flips over. I strain and listen harder. It sounds like the trickle of a stream.
I follow the noise and discover that the green pond is being filled by the tiniest beads of water dripping down a rock face at its rear. There’s a very small opening in the stone, but I can see light on the other side. The sound, too, is coming from behind it.
“Blaine,” I say. “Get up. You have to walk.”
He mumbles something incoherent.
“There’s water,” I explain. I want to tell him that I only need him to do this one thing and then I’ll carry him again, but forming the words requires too much effort.
Blaine grunts as I pull him to his feet. Dirt and sweat cover his forehead.
“Through here,” I say, pointing at the gap in the rock. He grimaces as we move forward, limping to keep weight off his bad leg. “Can you do it?”
He coughs, but nods. I let go of him. He clenches his eyes shut, blinks several times, nods again. As soon as I turn my back on him, Blaine falls. The sound of him hitting the ground is sickening: a solid, dull crack.
He’s fainted, his head striking a rock in the process. I drop beside him. “Blaine?” He doesn’t answer. I lift his head and my fingers grow sticky with blood. “Blaine!”
Nothing.
“You can’t do this! Not now. Not when we finally found it.” I shake him, curse him, yell his name, but he doesn’t respond. I press my ear to his chest and when I hear his heartbeat, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I fish a bandage from my bag and dress his wound, my hands shaking the entire time.
I look back at the rock face.