Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“No, you just lock women away,” I mutter, and then feel like a bitch about it, because it’s not him, exactly. It’s his father and the fact that they don’t know how to prevent sickness other than to separate the women from the men. Which is fine if everyone agrees to it, but the lock on the door that takes away choice? That pisses me off.
“Come,” Rem’eb says, grabbing my hand and tugging me after him. “We must travel faster if we are to catch up with the others. If they collapse a tunnel after them to stop pursuit, we will have no way of getting you to the surface. I only know a few routes in these tunnels.”
His words make me speed up, because the last thing I want is to stay. I’m not living my life behind some wall. I’ve been abandoned twice already, and I’m not about to let it happen again.
Trouble always comes in threes, I hear Stacy’s voice say in my mind.
I tell the Stacy in my head to shut up. Nobody needs that kind of negativity in their life.
We move through the tunnels, and I’m so glad that Rem’eb is with me. I would have never made it on my own. They twist and turn, and occasionally there’s a basket that blocks off a tunnel, telling him that that route is no good. I don’t know what the basket means, but every time we see one on its side, he mutters something like “By the ash” and then we head in a different direction.
Not all the tunnels we go through are unused, either. Some of them are gardens that are growing fleets of mushrooms. Some of them have a variety of wild creatures moving amidst the stalactites and stalagmites. In one, we have to be super quiet so snake-like things that move on the ceiling ignore us. In another, we have to take a high path because the lower path is far too close to the fricking river of lava that cuts through the interior and heats the entire tunnel to an oven. We steer clear of that area entirely.
We climb a few cliffs. Move past an underground spring that smells of sulfur. Another cliff, covered by vines, and we’re closer to the surface. I can tell because it grows distinctly colder inside. By the time we get to the top of that cliff, I’m shaking with exhaustion and more than ready for Rem’eb to carry me.
He sets down his pack. “We will rest here for tide-fall. Once we have slept some, we can move on. For now, you need your rest.”
Dramatically, I fling myself down on the smooth floor of the tunnel and spread my arms and legs wide. “Thank god.”
He huffs with amusement at my antics. I have to admit, the farther we get away from his village (and the fact that I was a prisoner), the more I feel like my old self. My worries are slowly receding, because Rem’eb is taking me back home, to the surface.
If we resonate, though, he’s going to need to come with me. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I just want to relax and give my poor feet a rest. I sit cross-legged, not caring if I flash him a pair of my leather panties, because it’s not like I’ve been given fresh clothing. I probably smell to high heaven, but Rem’eb has politely not said a thing. I pick up one foot and grimace that the sole is reddened and sore from walking. I rub it, watching as Rem’eb sets his pack down and unrolls a mat, then shakes out one of the shiny mustard-colored blankets and settles it atop the pallet.
“The bed is yours,” he tells me, and then pulls out a few of the plate-sized mushrooms plucked from the “gardens” we crossed through earlier. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“Yes and yes.” I hold a hand out.
We eat quickly and in silence, and I drink plenty of water. It never feels like enough, though. The caverns are warmer than I’m used to, and I feel as if I’ve sweated all day. Once my belly is full, Rem’eb packs everything away but the water. He considers, and then offers it to me. “Drink your fill. We will cross an underground river not far from here and refill our canteen there.”
“It’s really hard to dislike you, you know,” I tell him as I tip back the container and drain it of every precious drop. “Even when I’m trying to be mad at you, I can’t.”
“You speak but I do not know your words, Tia the Stranger,” he calls, voice lightly singsong.
“Oh, stranger again, am I?” I arch a playful brow at him and then hold out the now-empty canteen.
He smiles back at me, his expression somewhat shy. “Are you comfortable?”