Page 16 of A Shard of Ice

Taylor stops and puts a hand over his eyes to block the sun. He’s looking at something.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps glaring out into the desert. The air above the sand is wavy and blurred from the heat.

“There’s dust being kicked up,” he says. “Something is headed this way.”

“What kind of something? Surely not a wurm?” My voice sounds a touch shrill.

“No, not a wurm. They travel underground and only surface at night. It isn’t huge. It’s…it’s…I think it might be a camel.” His voice is tinged with shock.

“A…a camel?” I repeat like an idiot.

“Yes…it’s a camel. I can’t tell if someone is on it or not. I…I don’t think so.”

“That would be terrible. Is it one of the three camels we took? If so, that would mean… It would mean that…” I stop there. This camel was more than likely ridden by Cyrano or by Lona and Tom.

If that’s the case, then they would be in serious trouble or worse.

It doesn’t take long before I see the dust cloud. I still can’t quite make out what’s causing it. The fae have better senses than we do; this includes their vision.

“There is no rider,” he says.

I make a sobbing noise. This is bad. So bad.

It takes a little while longer before I can make out the form of the beast as it runs toward us. It is moving at speed, and there is, indeed, no one on its back.

Why?

Where are they?

What happened?

I watch as the lone camel gallops closer, kicking up clouds of sand in its wake. Taylor steps forward, keeping his hand on the rein of my camel. The beast grunts, becoming restless beneath me.

“It’s alright, girl,” he says, and she instantly calms. He has a way with animals. Another of the very many things I didn’t know about him.

I don’t know him at all.

The approaching camel answers with a loud bellow of its own. As it draws nearer, I notice that there are marks on its rump, gashes that ooze red against the beige of its pelt.

I gasp. “It’s wounded.” My heart sinks at the sight.

The fae nods, his expression grave. “It doesn’t look too bad.”

I hope he is right. It looks pretty bad to me.

The camel gets closer and closer but doesn’t seem to be slowing down. For a moment, I think it might run straight past us, but it doesn’t. At the last second, the injured beast skids to a halt right in front of us. It lets out a groan, its eyes wild with fear and confusion.

The fae slowly approaches, still holding the lead rope of our camel. I note that he keeps a watchful eye on our surroundings.

“Okay, boy. That’s it.” He takes the reins. “You’re fine now. You’re safe,” he tells the creature.

The camel snorts. He’s breathing heavily. Sweat streaks his flanks.

“What happened?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question since the camel can’t talk.

“I don’t know.” His eyes track the beast. “Thankfully, the wounds are superficial. It was probably a flying lizard. The claw marks are on the top of his rump, which indicate that the attack came from above.”

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