Worth The Shot

Lurking through Dirt

Today's Fanart: The first one is by AbbyBabby_1234. Abbybabby, you have an amazing friend who emailed me your art and wanted to get it in a chapter to surprise you for Valentine's Day! I love the wind designs on her dress and the cartoony style, it's SO CUTE!!!

The comic is from KeithJohnson03 and I LOVE IT SO MUCH THAT I COULD CRY  They really captured the glowy sunset from Rooftop Vigil and the expressions I imagined, and the silhouettes at the end look just SO romantic

BACK TO THE STORY

"Because I'm coming with you." 

"No, Camilo. No you're not." 

"You know you want me to," Camilo huskily insisted, locking his hands around your lower back with a charming smile. "You're gonna be scared, and alone..."

"I know what you're trying to do," you pointlessly protested, but you relaxed your head against his neck. You wanted to soften into Camilo's hug, where everything felt safe and golden. "You're not coming, no matter what you say." I really wish you could come. Believe me. 

"Come on, Mariposa," Camilo blinked with round, dark eyes. His lips gently brushed against your nose. "Let's go together."

"I can't do that," you reluctantly untangled yourself from the warm cocoon of Camilo's arms. "I'm risking so much less than you. The worst that happens to me is I lose my memory, but you..." You shuddered and imploringly gazed into his eyes. "You could die, Camilo. Please understand that."

"Oh, I understand. And I'm still going," Camilo stubbornly crossed his arms, shedding his sweet, romantic façade. "Let's not forget that the kidnapper is still out there. Your father might not kill you, but he would, (y/n). What am I gonna do if that happens?" 

"We're not gonna argue over this," you decisively declared, marching toward Casita. "I'm gonna go tell your abuela." 

"What? No!" Camilo whined, chasing after you. "Come on, don't tell her. You wouldn't."

"Senora Alma! Camilo's trying to break your curfew!" You hollered across the courtyard. With a devilish smile, you kissed Camilo on the cheek as Alma thundered closer with an exasperated glare. 

"Camilo! Come here right away, young man!" 

"You fight dirty," Camilo scowled like a belligerent toddler, annoyed. "Fine. I'll stay here. If you die, I'll kill you." 

"Oh, goody. How will you do that? Hunt my ghost?" 

"Yeah," Camilo jokingly confirmed, but worry shadowed his features. "Don't go thinking you'll be safe in the afterlife. I'll find you." 

"Ooh, I'm scared," You teased. You loosely wrapped your pinky finger around his and seriously promised, "I'll see you soon. I'll come back." 

A straightforward trail splashed across Cristina's map in raspberry-red ink, raking through the Encanto and docking against the craggy perimeter. You warily inched into the stern, stoic shadow that the looming mountain glared onto the ground. 

Is there an entrance? The mountain just looks like... well, a mountain. 

You rustled Cris' map open, scanning its messily printed red-and-black contents for any indication of a secret passage. A familiar black design saluted your eyes from the paper. 

Mirabel's sun? You analyzed the unassuming, lazy grass that curled around your shoes, seeking the symbol. With a triumphant stomp, you planted your foot on a thumb-sized likeness of the sun, disguised among the shredded green blades. 

Beneath your foot, the ground flopped inward like a trap door. With a muffled yelp, you stumbled backward to keep from tumbling inside. 

I found it. The kidnapper is definitely related to this tunnel. It's the same symbol. Is he who Bruno's prophecy was about?  Despite the muggy, hot gray of the sky, a chill swept through your chest. You didn't want to think about Bruno's prophecy and its impending death. At least not while venturing into the grave-like darkness. 

You gingerly stepped inside, propping the trap door back in place above you. The stripe of weak skylight vanished as you sealed yourself in the shadows. You couldn't see a thing, but you could feel. 

You could feel the earthen walls that seemed to crowd against your shoulders and the pounds of mountain rocks packed overhead threatened to collapse their weight. A stiffness choked the air, as if each breath you drew in rewarded your lungs with less and less oxygen. 

I hate this. I can't believe I used to live like a mole. 

You shuffled forward, unsteadily balancing your hand against the damp, crumbly wall to support your blindness. A gummy, convulsing movement wriggled from the dirt wall against your palm. You ripped your hand back, shivering in disgust.

It's just an earthworm. It's just an earthworm.

"I'm already losing it down here," you muttered to yourself, shaking your hand as if flinging off tiny invaders that lingered on your skin. Your hand sharply connected with fabric. Oh, no. 

"Don't scream." A low voice warned from behind you. You stiffened, tiny needles of sweat pricking on your forehead. Is that a threat? Do they have a weapon?