the thrum would feel under the pads of my fingers.
Don’t do it , my
Conscience reiterates.
I don’t know if it’s because
I do it or he presses forward, but now my hand rests on his chest, and the feel
of his heart is so strong, so familiar, I’m overwhelmed by the emotions
flooding over me. He has to grab my arm to steady me.
Jonah ,
Caleb says, but his voice is faint in the clamor of our heartbeats.
“I can’t do this.” I look up
once more to find his eyes dark and sad. There is no need to ask for
clarification.
“Me either,” I tell him. And
I mean it. I genuinely do.
So why am I so disappointed
when he pulls away?
“There’s got to be a way
out,” Kellan says, the flashlight smacking against an open palm over and over
again.
He’s pretending like our
lips weren’t perilously close earlier. I don’t know if I want to talk about the
almost incident, either, so I play along. “Like I said, I can blast us out.”
His head cocks to the wall
at the front of the cave I’d created; it’s rattled steadily for the last couple
hours due to assaults by the ever-noisy Elders. I cock my own head in the
opposite direction, back toward the small tunnel leading to an even smaller
tube and our tiny water source.
“Not worth the risk,” he and
Caleb insist in unison. I sigh and rest my chin in hands propped up by elbows
on knees. My stomach lets loose an embarrassingly loud rumble. Fact is, I’m
starving. And thirsty. It takes a—well, I don’t know how long. An hour? Maybe
two? Before the cup I created for us fills even a quarter.
I tried to widen the hole
the water’s dripping from, but somehow, it made the trickle even slower. I
installed a faucet, too, but had to stop when Kellan found out I was using
Magic. I endured a lengthy lecture about conserving my energy, but I’m itching
to try again.
A few rocks tumble down from
the ceiling between us. I stretch up a hand when Kellan isn’t looking and
imagine the ceiling solidifying. Although I can’t physically see it do so, the
cave’s walls smooth slightly until no more loose pieces will threaten to target
us.
Why I can do this, change
the texture and consistency of a cave’s walls, but not be able to create water
or plant life is beyond me. Fate has a funny way of shaping Magical crafts.
Maybe it’s a way for Fate to ensure one craft is never omnipotent. I’d need an
Aqua to help with the water, or even an Elemental or Tide; all can manipulate
water sources. I’d need a Nymph or an Agro to deal with the food, but even they
can’t make something appear out of nothing.
I can build us a table but
not anything to put on it. I’m utterly useless in here.
“Has Jonah escaped yet?”
Kellan looks away from the
flashlight beam he’s been splaying across the cave. “No.”
I try to swallow the
helplessness that rises up my throat, but it’s too big to fully get rid of. “Is
he okay?”
Kellan clicks off the
flashlight and joins me on the floor. “He’s fine.” A small smile escapes. “They
have food and water with them. So that right there gives him a leg up on us.”
He’s tired. There are dark
smudges under his eyes and his hair is in disarray. I can’t help but ask how
he’s doing, too.
Kellan stares off into the
distance. “I’m fine.”
It’s a lie. It has to be.
Because I’m not fine, not by a long shot. I’m so hungry I’ve considered eating
rocks and so thirsty I can barely make my own spit to wet my tongue. It’s
getting harder and harder to focus, and the incessant shrieking outside doesn’t
help matters.
At least I’m not freaking
out. I’m not crying, not hyperventilating. At least I have that going for me.
“We’re going to be okay, C.”
“I
know,” I tell Kellan. But it’s a lie.
Death is such a big thing. I
know that sounds all duh , since it’s something we all know is going to
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