Page 164 of The Last One
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After what feels like endless days of travel, night comes again. We make our beds atop soft fallen pine needles. Their scent relaxes me. Philia falls asleep quickly, her wild curls tumbling across her face. Jadon remains awake and upright—first watch. His gaze doesn’t stop. His jaw stays hard.
I lie on the other side of the fire, eyes on the sky. No shooting stars tonight. The nightstar—where is she right now? The sky is that black.
I shift against the ground, wondering if the pain in my body comes from nights of sleeping in hard, horrid spaces, or if it’s my body continuing to weaken without my amulet. In the silent expanse of our days, I’ve worried about three things: my pendant, my friendship with Jadon, and my body. Every twinge and minor ache tell me I’m dying. Every flare-up in my muscles, anytime my knee wiggles beneath my weight, anytime my tongue pushes at my teeth and I perceive that a tooth is looser than before, confirms that I’m dying. And now, my hair…
“Jadon,” I whisper.
Silence… “Umhmm?”
I move my mouth, and the hinges of my jaw creak. No words.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
My pulse is all over the place. I don’t want to sayI’m dyingaloud because if I do, it will become a true thing. And what good will telling him do? He can’t stop it. Why burden him?
“Hey.” He sits beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I bite my lip, then send my eyes back to the sky. “My hair… It’s falling out.” I exhale, finding some relief at having shared the truth.
He stays still, like he’s stopped breathing. Then: “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” I say, shaking my head.
“There’s nothing more you can do about it, either,” he says. “You’re doing all you can. Moving ahead and finding your pendant.”
“Faster, we need to go faster.”That’s what he’s thinking.
“I wish we could fucking fly to Caburh.”
“She’ll be okay.”
“Relax.”
“If you’re scared, she’ll become more scared than she already is.”
He studies my face, then studies my hair. He smiles. “You’re probably one of the only people in the world who’d look breathtaking bald.”
I snort. “Okay, then.”
He grins. “Seriously, you have the face for it. You could pull it off. I’d still follow you around like a lost puppy.” He grows serious. “We’ll find it. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Get some rest,” he says.
I offer him a small smile, and then I close my eyes.
Tomorrow has to be better.
Right?
The closer we get to Caburh, the more the air stinks, putrid, rancid, like slugs disintegrated in vinegar, like a corpse left in a field. The road is clear of pedestrians, but in the distance, I glimpse a man walking on the edge of the road. Dust puffs with each step, but that dust doesn’t dull the man’s urgent amber glow. He’s dying—that’s what his body is saying—and that means he may be desperate or delirious. Neither state is good.
There’s something else about this traveler. Something worrisome. Somethingpredatory.
As the man gets closer, Jadon sneaks a look at me.
