By midday my feet hurt. By afternoon my shoulders hurt too. By evening I'm beginning to suspect that every part of me hurts at least a little.
The jungle has become a blur of roots, vines and disappointment. We find no gold. We find no Earth girls. We don't even find a tribe. Just endless green stretching in every direction. The excitement of leaving the island fades hour by hour, replaced by the realization that we're simply back to wandering through a wilderness that doesn't care whether we succeed or fail.
Vyrathion grows quieter as the day wears on. I don’t think he’s angry, exactly. He isn't snapping at me or glaring at every tree. Instead he seems to be turning inward, becoming more dragon-like with every mile. The playful dragon who peeled fruit and argued about obvious things feels farther away now. This Vyrathion keeps scanning the jungle ahead as though he expects gold to reveal itself at any moment if only he looks hard enough.
A few times I catch myself watching him instead of paying attention to where I'm putting my feet.
Eventually he notices. "What?"
I look away quickly. "Nothing."
"You were staring."
"I was thinking."
He looks past me at Clyde. "That usually leads to trouble."
"Only for you."
A snort escapes him. The sound is brief, but it makes me smile. The fact that I can still make him do that feels oddly important.
Not long afterward he stops so suddenly that I nearly walk into his back. "We’ll camp here."
I look around while catching my balance. The clearing doesn't seem remarkable. A cluster of giant trees shelters it from above, and a rocky rise protects one side from the worst of the undergrowth. The ground is relatively dry, which already makes it one of the better places I've seen today.
"Why here?"
"Because you're tired."
The answer catches me off guard. I open my mouth to deny it and then realize there's no point. My legs ache. My feet ache. My entire body aches. "I am?"
"You are trying to disguise a limp."
“Apparently not very successfully,” I mutter.
While I recover from the realization that I've been limping for who knows how long, Vyrathion studies the clearing with obvious dissatisfaction. His gaze keeps drifting toward the jungle beyond it. "We're losing time."
"We've been walking all day," I point out.
"We've also been failing to find gold all day."
I can't really argue with that.
For several seconds he simply stands there, staring into the trees as though irritation alone might force the jungle to surrender a treasure hoard. Then he exhales through his nose. "Fine."
The word sounds like a personal sacrifice. He disappears into the undergrowth before I can reply.
I sit on a fallen log and take off one sandal. The relief is immediate. My foot throbs angrily at me, confirming that Vyrathion was entirely right and that I probably should have complained hours ago.
A rustling sound announces Clyde waddling closer. The little Plood emerges from a patch of ferns carrying something yellow that he clearly considers extremely valuable. He presents it to me with obvious pride.
"Not now, Clyde."
A few minutes later Vyrathion returns carrying an enormous armful of broad leaves. He drops them beside me and immediately turns around again. "There."
"Thank you. Just what I needed." Well, I suppose I can curl up on the heap.
He grunts and vanishes back into the jungle.
