Cress

Chapter 18

   It didn't take long for Cress and  Thorne  to  fall  into  a  pattern. As  Thorne
   became more  comfortable  with  the  movement  of the  sand   underneath 
    them   and   the sensation of  the  cane  in his  hand,  he  grew  more  confi-
     dent,  and their  pace  increased. Three dunes. Five. Ten. Before long, Cress
    realized that it   took a   lot  less   cutting  a  slower, yet  less   exhaust-
     ing zigzag route across the desert.
   As she walked, the towels around her feet began   to loosen and grains 
        of  sand slipped in and  got  caught  between  her  toes, despite  how light 
      Thorne  had  tied the ropes of hair. The soles of her  feet  began  to  burn   and
      a  cramp  was  threatening to overtake  her  left  foot  from  the  constant  grab 
       and release  of her on the unstable ground   her  legs   ached.   Cress's
      body began to  rebel as  they rambled up yet another dune. Her thighs
       would  burn  as  she  crested  one  more  hill—but  then her shins would cry
       out as  they  descended  the  other  side. Her   silly   fitness  routines aboard
      the satellite hadn't her for this.
But she did not complain. She panted  a  great  deal. She  swiped  at  the 
       sweat drops on her  temples. She  clenched  her  jaw  against  the  hurt. But
       she  did  not complain.

            At least she could see, she reminded  herself. And  at  least  she  didn't 
       have  to carry the supplies. She heard  Thorne  switch  shoulders  from  time
      to  time,  but  he didn't complain either.
        Sometimes when they struck a flat spot, she  closed  her  eyes to  see  how  
           long she could go without opening them. Vertigo would set in almost
          immediately.  Panic would blossom at the base of her spine  and  crawl  up
           it until  she  was  sure each  new  step  would  bring  her  in  contact with  a
          rock  or  a  small  hill  and  she would stumble face-first into the sand.
               The fourth time she did it, Thorne asked  her  why  they  kept slowing 
          down. She kept her eyes open after that.
     "Do you need to take a break?" Thorne asked, hours later.
               "N-no," she huffed, her thighs burning. "We're almost to the top of
            this dune."
       "Sure? No point passing out from exhaustion."
        She  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  upon  reaching  the  top  of  the  dune, but
       dread quickly took its place.  She didn't know why she'd  expected this 
dune  to  be  different from  the  dozens  they'd  already  crested. She  didn't
know  why   she'd   been thinking  that  this  must  have marked  the  end  of 
the desert,   because   she   didn't could go much farther.
But it was not the end. The world was  made  of  more  dunes,  more
sand,  more nothingness.
"Really. Let's take a break," Thorne said, setting  down  the   pack   and
   stabbing the cane into the  ground. He  spent  a  moment  working  the
  kinks  from  his  shoulders, before hunching over and undoing the bun-
   dle's  knot. He   handed  Cress  one of the water bottles and took another for
  himself.
   "Shouldn't we ration it?" she asked.
               He shook his head. "It's best to drink when we're  thirsty,  and  just  try 
      to  keep sweating to a minimum—as much as possible. Our bodies will
  be  better  able  to maintain  hydration  that way,  even if  we  do  run  out  of
  water. And  we  should avoid eating until we find another water source.
   Digestion  uses  up  a  lot  of  water too."
    "That's fine. I'm not hungry." Which was  true—the  heat  seemed  to 
     have  stolen what appetite she'd had.