HAVEN ✓

Nine

I blink. There is a woman standing before me. Her hair is a tawny brown with streaks of gray weaving through the long wavy locks. Her face is gentle, but her eyes tell me that she's seen her fair share of hardship. I open my mouth to speak, but my voice is shot. I try again.

"I... eed... your elp," I croak. It was difficult for my parched throat to form words hours ago, but booking it to the village to arrive before nightfall has drained me. I force my dry tongue to swallow, and open my mouth to try the words a third time, but my voice comes out even more hoarse.

"Sit, child. You are thirsty," the woman says, and I am pressed gently into a chair by large, warm hands.

My gaze drops back to the ground and my head spins. I suddenly feel myself sagging, vision going dark.

Something hard bites into my temple. I open my eyes and see the wooden floorboards under my cheek. When did I get on the ground? I blink and roll over to see worry in the woman's big eyes. Her fingers are pressing something cool to my lips. She slips her hand under my neck, coaxing me from the floor, but I'm sweaty all over and the heavy weight dragging my head back down is too much. All I can manage is a few sips before exhaustion takes over me and I pass out in the middle of a stranger's kitchen floor.

◊ ◊ ◊

Opening my eyes this time is a lot harder. It's as if there are tiny sandbags holding my eyes shut. I give in to the weight and focus on my other senses. There is a softness beneath my head, and a warmth covering me from my chest down. I must have been tucked into bed.

I feel guilty for intruding, showing up unannounced, and passing out on some woman's floor. If that wasn't trouble enough, I'm now occupying a bed that doesn't belong to me.

"When will she wake up, Momma?" A young girl's voice drifts to me from across the room.

I try again to open my eyes, and this time I succeed. They follow the beams along the ceiling to the wall opposite me, where a girl watches the tawny-haired woman as she sits in an old wooden rocking chair. Something colorful is draped across her lap. Her hands move deftly, tying strips of fabric into knots to make a blanket. Or maybe it's a rug? She pauses her work and my eyes flick up to meet hers.

Caught awake, I sit up slowly. The girl's head whips around at my movement, eyes wide. As soon as she catches my gaze, she bolts from the room.

She's timid as a hare, and just as quick.

For fun, Rhett and I would run around the forest, chasing rabbits into their holes. He'd always know just where they would be hiding. It's no wonder why he was placed as a Hunter. We'd stay out all day, just to tally up who could find the most. When it would get too late for the rabbits, we'd move on to birds. One would sing its song and whoever would name the species just from its song first won. In the woods with Rhett, there was always something to entertain.

The woman nods beside me, and I notice a ceramic cup sitting at the bedside. Water. I down it, thinking too late to check for poison. I shouldn't expect too much kindness in the Outlands.

The instant the liquid hits my tongue, I feel better. Thirst is the creature that sneaks up on you, choking you a little at a time so that you don't even notice you're dehydrated until it's too late. Then it's torture; our bodies are sixty-percent water, yet it cannot survive without having more. Always more.

Once my immense thirst is resolved, I realize the girl's mother has left. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and tip-toe to the open door, but jump back abruptly when she returns with a wooden tray of something that smells so savory, my stomach actually growls. I realize I haven't eaten all day.