With swift but weak movements, I managed to clear the obstacle, placing my feet back on stable ground. Stable, rough, hot,sandyground that was already making my brand new wounds burn like hellfire. It was only my fear of facing the minotaur that kept me moving.
I tried making as little noise as possible, straining to hear any more sounds that would indicate he was close. My breaths were coming short and raspy now. Each one felt like sandpaper on my scratchy throat.
When nothing seemed to be pursuing me, I wondered if I’d misjudged just how close the minotaur was. That made me frown. Several times now I’d thought that he was nearby, but henever caught up. I never came across him any of the times I’d thought that he was somewhere up ahead.
A thought then struck me. Was it possible that he wasn’t even real? That this was merely a mind game? Could we have been told that we might be stalked by such a creature only to ramp up our fear?
Maybe. I’d heard screams and growls, yes. But who was to say that they were real? I’d only come across one dead body—poor Finian—and he’d sadly met his end at the hand of a pool of ice, not a minotaur.
I turned a corner … and saw a tumbleweed rolling toward me. Swearing, I pressed my back against the wall to avoid it. A wall so hot I jerked forward slightly, almost causing me to crash right into the tumbleweed.
Puffing out a breath once the passage was once more clear, I began to walk again. I flapped the front of my tunic, wishing that I had something to fan myself with. I was so sweltering hot that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam wafting from my skin, or to find that my sweat was sizzling like grease in a heated pot.
I’d earlier told myself that I’d never complain about heat again. Ha. How naïve I’d been.
It had helped that my clothes were initially wet—it had given me some reprieve from the heat. But they’d dried fast. And maybe it was due to the temperature, but every scent that clung to them seemed more pungent than ever.
I’d trash them later, I decided. Caked in dust, sweat, dirt, and all manner of other things courtesy of the ordeal they’d undergone today, they weren’t whatsoever salvageable. Most were also torn and sporting holes, much like my boots. I’d trash them, too.
I absently licked my chapped lips, grunting at the subsequent sting. I kept making the mistake without thought—itwas too instinctive to moisten them. If I came upon any kind of water source, I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t drink it. Even if said source happened to be a river of blood.
As I took yet another turn, it wasn’t a body of water I found. It was rows of thick branches dangling from the ceiling, forming a sort of horizontal ladder—and in a very deliberate manner, which told me that I’d arrived at yet another obstacle.
Pausing in front of it, I cocked my head. I could certainly swing from branch to branch … but why would I need to when there was a perfectly good floor beneath it that I could walk on?
My nape prickling, I snatched a pebble from the ground and tossed it into the sand beneath the branches. The pebble disappeared, swallowing up by the small grains.
I dragged in a breath.Sinking sand. Crap.
There would be nothing at all easy or painless about using that ladder of branches, given my physical condition. Justlookingat it made me want to cry. I was drained mentally, physically, and spiritually. Plus, my palms were all busted.
I would have taken a brief rest, but there was nowheretorest. The overheated ground made my feet feel like they were frying—there was no way I could plop my butt on it. I couldn’t even simply lean against the walls as they were just as scalding.
You’re almost done.
Letting that thought bolster me, I tore more strips off my tunic and added them to the ones already covering my hands, giving my sore palms more padding. Still, this was gonna hurt big time.
I jumped, snapping my hands around the first branch. Fuck, ithurt.My palms werenotup to this at all—every wound and blister protested. More, stretching my body this waypulledat the burns skimming down my side.
I didn’t let the pain distract me. Couldn’t afford to. I swayed forward, reached for the next branch, and used the momentum of the swing to propel me on.
Again and again I did it, primarily using the muscles in my arms and back. Still, I felt the strain in my shoulders and had no doubt I would earn myself more palm blisters before this was over.
Grabbing onto yet another branch, I hissed as a splinter buried itself in my thumb.For the love of …
I heard a whirring sound. Saw a small whirling gust ofsomethingup ahead that looked much like a miniature dust devil. And it was heading right for me. “Youhavegot to be kidding me,” I muttered.
Dread taking wing in my chest, I kept moving along the ladder of branches, going as fast as I could. Eventually reaching the end, I jumped down and lunged to the side.
I wasn’t quick enough.
The mini gust clipped my side with a real punch, peppering me in sand and dust.
Coughing, I wafted at the tiny grains clouding the air as annoyance surged through me in a rush. The grit was clinging to my body like a second skin. Moreover, some had made its way into my mouth. I tried spitting it out, but it was hard when I had practically zero saliva.
Coughing again, I scraped myself off the ground, grunting and whimpering. I sure hoped that was the last time today that I’d be forced to drag my body off the floor. It got harder and harder to do it each time.
Turning my attention back to the passage, I pushed on, my footsteps dragging somewhat. Gods, I felt sick. Probably from the combination of heat, exhaustion, dehydration, and pain.
