Page 63 of Captured By the Scaled Outlaw
I give in within a minute.
Chapter 21
When I wake, it’s midday.
I rub sleep out of my eyes, the tent feeling a hundred degrees hotter than the past few days. Next to me, Lowell sleeps soundly. Thankfully, he’s still very much alive despite his struggling fever.
Taking a sip of the dwindling water, I split up the few packets of rations left to last me for an unknown number of days. Lowell urges me to drink when needed instead of attempting to save it, but I worry I’ll get carried away and down the entire canteen before the sun sets.
Deep in thought, my ideas and plans come to me much more clearly than before. I wonder if it’s because my brain is finally in a functional survival mode after days of panic. But it’s then that I realize I canhearmy own thoughts. No wind howling, no shaking tent, no pelting of sand against plastic.
I nearly jump out of my skin, ripping the tent door open with one throw of my arm. It feels like a daydream as I gaze at an amazing sight: The sandstorm has subsided.
Reaching behind me to where Lowell lies, I slap at his chest furiously.
“Lowell! Wake up!” I shout, clamoring out of the tent door.
Sky.
Clear sky.
Dunes of sand, unobscured.
Lowell groans behind me. “Why the hell are you shouting?” he asks,sleep caught in his throat.
The swelling wave of relief I feel weakens my knees. I can’t rip my eyes away, as though looking elsewhere would make it all disappear.
“The sandstorm!” I yell, pointing ahead.
Lowell jerks to attention, his eyes wide and body clumsily wobbling to the front of the tent. “It’s—!”
“Gone! The sandstorm is gone!” I vibrate excitedly, my fingers wiggling.
With a grunt of pain, Lowell pulls himself out of the tent to stand to attention, his mouth forming an awed smile. “Wow. Aren’t we lucky? I thought it’d last three more days at least.”
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around Lowell’s waist and squeeze him tightly. “Thank the Goddess! We’re getting out of here!”
Lowell’s hand presses to my back tentatively, like he doesn’t know how to hug me. After our fight a few days ago, we haven’t spoken much.
For a moment, I bask in the feeling of elation and relief. Although our journey home is far from over, I finally feel like I can breathe again. I’m going home, not back to a dungeon or stuck in a tent.Home.
But the thought is a bit sour.
Dehydration must be scrambling my brain.
Lowell pats the top of my head, twirling my braid between the webbing of his fingers. “Let’s pack up and get the hell out of here. I’m sick of this fucking desert,” he says with a gentle laugh.
I rest my chin on his chest, catching a wisp of a frown before his mouth forms a smile once again. He doesn’t look down at me.
“Let’s change your bandage one more time before we leave,” I say, raking my nails over his back before pulling away.
Lowell’s skin shivers beneath me as he nods, his hand trailing over my lower back to keep close.
“Yeah,” he whispers.
* **
Although the trail back is wrecked beyond recognition by the sandstorm, I’m able to guide us in the right direction using Lowell’s compass.
