Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“You’re an impossible man to please,” I huff, deciding to break the silence and show him just how hurt I really am.
The only noise is a splash and the raft shakes a little.
Curious, I look behind me…and there’s no O’jek.
I’m on the raft alone.
CHAPTER 30
DAISY
Worried, I pull up my paddle and turn around, scanning the waters. “O’jek? Are you…swimming back to shore?”
Something thrashes under the raft, and a loud, hard thump smacks against the wood. The entire thing tips over onto one side, and I squeak in distress as I slide off my end and into the ice-cold water. I flail as the waves close over my head and the frigid sea hits me like a slap. A snakelike tentacle slithers past my legs, curling around one ankle, and I remember what I’ve been told—they’re attracted to movement. That I should remain still so as not to get their attention. It takes everything I have, panic flaring hard in my brain, but I remain perfectly still until it no longer brushes against my legs, and then I rise to the surface.
With a gasp, I break the surface and take a gulping breath of air. The raft is bobbing a short distance away and I swim as quickly as I can over to it, and then haul my shivering self over the edge. It’s tricky to get onto the raft from inside the water but I finally manage with some strategic maneuvering of my weight. I take another deep breath and then sit up.
O’jek. Where is he?
“O’jek?” I call, scanning the waters for any sign of movement. “O’jek!”
I stare at the surface of the waves, hoping against hope to see his long braid or a flash of his tail. Please, I whisper inwardly. Please.
There’s a ripple of blue off to the far side of the raft and I paddle with my hand toward it, trying to move the raft in that direction. It’s useless, though, and when I see O’jek’s braid drift amidst the waves, I bite back a sob.
Then, I spot him. He’s not moving, floating on his belly in the water, his arms limp at his sides. Terror chokes through me and I automatically jump back into the water, swimming to his side. My teeth chatter as I try to reach him, desperately aware that he needs to breathe.
Because he’s not dead. He’s not.
The tentacles glide around my legs again, testing, and this time, I don’t have the luxury of waiting for them to go away. I pull out my knife and when one wraps around my ankle, I stab at it, scraping my skin and jabbing the tentacle in the process. It immediately draws back, and I continue swimming out to O’jek, knife clutched in my numb hand. His braid drifts close and I grab it, hauling him toward me. “O’jek!”
I pull his heavy weight against me, and he’s like trying to hold a sack of cement above the waves. He’s unmoving and unconscious, and when I smack a hand against his cheek, there’s no response.
He’s not dead. He’s not. I won’t let him be dead. I won’t let our last words be angry ones.
Teeth chattering, I shove the now-bloody knife between my teeth as I look around for the raft. It bobs in the water a short distance away, and I tuck my arm under O’jek’s heavy ones and make sure his chin stays out of the waters as I awkwardly paddle toward the raft once more. I’m positive my arms and legs are going to turn into blocks of ice, but I manage to get to the raft and half-drag half-shove O’jek’s heavy form high enough onto the raft that his head stays out of the water. I don’t have the strength to haul him completely up to safety, so we need to get to shore. When I look around, though, I don’t see the huts. They’re not too far away. I know they’re not.
It’s fine, I tell myself.
A light snow starts drifting down from the clouds.
It’s fine, I tell myself again. I grab the edge of the raft and try to haul it toward the shore that now seems so damned far away. You can do this, I remind myself. You’ve learned how to do all kinds of things in the last month. You can take care of yourself. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.
You can save O’jek.
By the time I get to the shore, my fingers feel so cold it’s as if they’ll snap off with a stiff breeze. My teeth constantly clack and tremble against the knife clenched in my jaw, and I’m pretty sure I’ve cut the corners of my mouth. Don’t care. I haul O’jek and the raft onto the shore as snow continues to pour from the cloudy, gray skies and a dense fog rolls in, because of course it does. It’s like this world is trying to prove to me that I’m helpless.