Page 68 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Mrs Ambrose! Answer me!”
Hm…no. Those arms felt just a little bit nicer than a kraken’s. And familiar. Almost as if…
“Lillian!”
Shaking my head, I grabbed the tree beside me and pushed myself upright. “It’s…it’s nothing. I’m all right. We can go on.”
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “And my name is Kickhard Slamnose!”
“It is?” I blinked up at him owlishly. “I’ll ’ave to remember that.”
Was my speech a little slurred?
Nah. Surely, that was just my imagination.
“This isnotthe time for levity, Mrs Ambrose.”
“You’re right.” Once again, my hand came to rest on my belly. “It really isn’t. It’s time to move.” Pushing my way out of his arms, I started up the incline once again. “We have…to go on. We have…to…”
I stumbled. Grabbing a nearby branch, I tried to force myself to remain upward. I had to go on! I had to find water, or my baby would—
“Stop!”
“I…can’t stop. Water, I—”
“That is what I’m talking about, Mrs Ambrose! Stop! I found water!”
“What?” I whirled around, frantically searching the surroundings with my eyes. But there was no water anywhere to be seen. Not even a puddle. “Where? Where is it?”
I was hardly able to stand upright, let alone see very clearly in the half-light underneath the trees, but one thing was pretty clear: there was no water around us as far as the eye could see.
“There’s no water here! What are you going on about?”
“Water? Not as such. But there is this!”
My eyes flicked to where he stood. Only when my gaze landed on him, I noticed him holding a small reddish-green fruit in his hand. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about when I noticed him squeezing the fruit hard.
Hard enough so its juice dripped down.
Sweet, wonderful, succulent juice.
I swallowed. Or at least I tried to. There was no saliva left in my mouth whatsoever.
“But…” I had to fight my instincts to not reach out and chow down on the delicious-looking fruit. Just the thought of the sweet juice within… “But we might poison ourselves! How are we supposed to know if it’s edible?”
“Iknow.” Giving me a triumphant look, he picked another fruit without hesitation. “I’ve seen this fruit before on my travels! I’m certain it’s edible!”
“R-really?” My breath speeding up, I stumbled forward. “Do you mean it?”
“I’ll prove it to you,” he told me. And, lifting the fruit to his mouth, he bit down. For a moment, he chewed, then swallowed. Then he took another bite.
“How is it?” I demanded.
“Hmm…quite adequate. Quite adequate indeed.”
“Great!” Rushing forward, I reached out to pull a fruit for myself down from the tree—when a grip around my wrist abruptly stopped me. Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s grip.
“Don’t!”
