Page 184 of Gift from the Stone

Turns out, that’s not true. After the fifth one in a row, with maybe a minute break in between, I can’t stop the spew of my entire breakfast from coming up.

Every few feet, Master Asshole looks back at me, snarls, then jerks me along. I don’t know how he thinks I’m going to keep up with him and the other twelve dead men walking. They exchanged the fully formed stone blocks on my feet for a pair of stone shoes.

So between my trembling legs and swooshing stomach, this last transport has our break stretching far longer than one minute.

“Disgusting bitch. Get up.” Gish sneers, yanking me up off my knees.

“Yeah, I’m the disgusting one here,” I mumble sarcastically as he drags me into a stretch of trees.

My reaction to his backhand isn’t fast enough since I was busy trying to wipe the puke off my chin on my shoulder. The dead weight from the stone encasing my hands pulls me down quicker than I can balance myself and my shoulder screams in pain when I crash into the forest floor.

The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth, and I breathe calmly through my nose to cool the beast rearing her beautiful head inside of me.

I swear, if my men don’t kill him as soon as they get here, he’ll be the first person we eat. We’ll bite his hands off, then the rest of him.

That murderous promise barely pleases her. Until now, she’s been very agreeable, going along with everything, knowing we didn’t have much of a choice. Now that he’s done more than just snatching my hair, all bets are off. She’s ready to end him.

Cussing the asshole under my breath, I struggle to get myself up. I get as far as perched on my knees then the dizziness returns. Black spots dance along my vision and I sway where I’m kneeling. Slamming my eyes shut, I mentally will the nausea away, begging my body not to throw up again.

Stupid, vile, gargantuan asshole. I swear if I throw up again, I’m aiming right for his boots.

My eyes fly open, and my fight instincts try to kick in when a vial is shoved between my lips. Sputtering and coughing, I do everything I can to keep the liquid from slipping down my throat. I have no idea what the hell this is, but it sure as shit isn’t Gaster’s healing vial.

Someone from behind me reaches around to my chin and jerks my head back violently, plugging my nose with their other hand. I refuse to gasp, locking my lips as tight as possible, ignoring the start of the burn in my lungs.

A solid punch to my gut forces me to suck in a struggling breath, and the bitter, sour taste of whatever the hell is in the vial slides down my throat like acid.

Gagging repeatedly, I belie my previous thought and beg my body to throw it up. Get this shit out of my stomach.

“She only got about half,” the asshat behind me says as he slings me free from his grip.

“It’ll do until we get her to the compound.” Gish scoffs.

Two men haul my ass up off the ground and the world around me sways. Pins and needles shoot through my body with an uncomfortable tingling and everything moves in slow motion. I can’t even muster the strength to lift my arms or legs.

Fight it, Willow. Whatever this is, fight it.

You can’t be this vulnerable.

I hear my mental thoughts clearly. Thank fuck my mind is still aware, but my body doesn’t respond. The best I can do is slump in the arms of the men dragging me through the foliage of the forest. The stupid stone shoes create a path, and I focus my gaze as hard as I can on them, willing my feet to do something. Twitch, move, shake. Something.

Panic begins creeping its way up my chest. The feeling of having no control over my body is about to send me spiraling right off the edge.

Deep breath. Breathe.

Suddenly, I’m dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes facing an extremely small structure. The jarring motion snaps me right out of my panic, and I flick my eyes in every direction. This building, shed’s more like it, won’t fit all of us. Half the men here won’t fit in there.

“Where are we?” My question’s nothing more than a slur. I’m surprised and proud I got that much out.

“I can’t tell if you’re the stupidest bitch I’ve ever met or the boldest,” Gish says, cocking his head at me.

Boldest, Fuckface.

I wish like hell I could say it out loud, but my lips are so numb, I can’t move them. It feels like the dentist got a little too trigger happy with the Novocain.

I watch silently, drool dripping down my lips, as he disappears through the door and returns seconds later holding a small piece of parchment that he reads over and over. Folding it in half, he passes it over to another man, who doesn’t even glance at it. He just sets it on fire.

“As one, on me,” Gish announces and scoops me back off the ground.

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