Page 140 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

I grin at him.

“Be careful, okay?” Mariel asks, and I lift my eyebrow.

“Are you doubting my abilities?” I ask.

“Nope. Just be careful,” she repeats. I hand her my shield and clamber up on one of the boulders. It’s only when I’m out of sight that I get rid of my helmet as well. It will only hinder me, and I very much doubt I will run into anyone up there.

I really should tell Calix.

The sun is high in the sky, and the stone is warm beneath my fingers. It’s nice. The wind whips through the few strands that came loose from my braid as I scramble up the face of the cliff. The world falls away beneath me, and my horizon broadens the farther I climb. I haul myself over the edge and take a moment to admire the view while simultaneously searching for clues. Everything I would need to make this moment even more perfect would be a set of wings and maybe a certain centurion at my side.

The spires of buildings peek over a slope to my left, and a sliver of blue—a glimpse of the sea—is right next to it.

If Telos is over there, I recall the map we studied so rigorously over the past few weeks and use the city, along with the mountains around me, to orient myself,then we have to head that way.

We aren’t far off course. I memorize the trees we have to head for, then make my way down.

I pick up my helmet and place it back on my head before I jump from one big stone to the next.

Pain rips through my ankle, and I cry out. I kick my foot reflexively and dislodge the snake that bit me, its body flying off and falling between the rocks, but not before I see the blue belly.Shit.

“Are you okay?” Calix and Mariel shout. I peel back my pants, my eyes fixed on the two puncture marks on my skin.

I curse.

“Gray?” Calix shouts.

“I’m fine.” Or at least as close to it as I can be in this situation. I move my ankle gingerly, wincing at the pain and the swelling that is already starting.

I hope my curse will eliminate the poison since bluebellies are part of the magical creatures, but that means I can’t tell the others what happened without revealing what I am. Dammit.

“What happened?” Calix asks.

“Um…I twisted my ankle,” I tell them.

“Can you walk?” Mariel asks. I take a few steps and find the pain manageable.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Their doubtful gazes land on my swollen ankle, but it actually looks worse than it feels. I refuse their offers to look at it, and we take off in the direction of the collection point.

The pain spreads while I walk, climbing up my leg and sliding down into my foot. After a while, I start limping, and by the time the sun sets, every step is like walking on incandescent coals. My whole leg is swollen by now, and the cloth of my pants rubbing over my skin is torture.

A stream runs past our campsite, and I don’t hesitate. I roll up the legs of my pants and step right into its icy flow. The pain instantly becomes more bearable.

I’m unbelievably tired, and since my appetite is gone, I only nibble on a small piece of the rabbit Calix caught earlier. Thankfully, the others are tired too, so we all lie down after that.

The pain radiating from my leg is so intense that it wakes me, and I can’t stay still a second longer. Instead of giving in to crying, I get up and hobble to the stream. Before I reach it, I fall to my hands and knees, heaving up the contents of my stomach.

Dying would be a damn blessing right now.

I crawl the rest of the way to the water, plunging my leg in, not caring that I get my pants wet in the process. Then I just sit there, waiting for the pain to subside and trying to think of anything but the walk that awaits us in the morning or the fact that no bird has tried to approach me yet. Some have been around, and both Calix and Mariel reported they felt nudges in their mind. But nothing for me so far.

I stay in the water until my leg is numb, then I walk back to my sleeping friends, trying to get some rest as well.

The following morning, I’m feverish, and my whole body hurts. I’m tired and cranky, which earns me raised eyebrows, but no one says a thing. I have to excuse myself three times before noon, secretly dry heaving behind bushes.

I’m starting to worry that I was wrong with my assumption about the poison.

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