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The bed was so soft, and I was genuinely tired. Counting questions turned into some strange form of counting sheep, and I was asleep before I knew it.
Chapter26
A Weekend In The Frost
The car that had brought us to the mountain range adjacent to the Cinturón de Fuego drove away. Our carefully cataloged and packed gear was laying on the ground in front of us. No Javier and Manuel.
What was the point of bodyguards if they couldn’t be with me always?
We were alone in the wilds, with only the distant hum of the engine and the occasional call of a grouse crossing the silent void between us.
All I wanted was to go back to bed. I was definitely sick.
I eyed Antonio warily, a thin sheen of sweat gathering on my forehead. My stomach was roiling, and my hands were trembling slightly. Getting sick the morning of this test wasn’t ideal, but I wouldn’t let him know how poorly I felt.
On the ride over, Antonio had explained that he would be here so that he could assess my skills, as to better adjust our training sessions. Our other primary goal was to reach the summit of one of the mountains and calculate how long it would take me to finish the first and second leg of the tournament. The mountain looming before us was similar in size to La Doncella.
Rays of sunlight danced across the landscape, and the horizon was a mix of scorched brown and orange hues, fading into cobalt and, eventually, indigo, like a bruise. Something stirred in my stomach. The air was still, and I could feel the heat of the day creep upon us as I turned toward Antonio. He wore a determined expression, his face illuminated by the rising sun and his hands clasped calmly at his sides.
I breathed in deeply, luxuriating in the morning’s peace, and gathering my courage. The cool air felt good against the tremors in my body, and time away from cloud-like beds and heated rooms sharpened my senses. Crisp-scented pine perfumed the forest and clung to my skin like the morning frost. A small stream gurgled on by, refusing to be tamed by the plummeting temperatures. My lungs expanded, and there was a bite in the inhale, like licor de anís y miel. Delicate clouds danced in front of me as I let out a long breath.
I couldn’t help it; I was mystified even though I felt half-dead.
Antonio stopped at my side, the sparse trees surrounding us. The quiet of the woods was almost sacred, and disturbing the gentle woodlands felt blasphemous. I wanted to ask him about Isaac, but Antonio wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“Vámanos. You’ll find that the hours of the day pass quickly when you are trying to find food and build shelter,” he said roughly.
My eyes lingered on the sunrise for a second longer. If getting lost in the beauty of nature was the wrong thing to do, then I would have to shut my eyes. Drawn out of my momentary awe, my head started pounding again.
“Oye, ¿me escuchaste? Dije que tenemos que irnos,” he practically growled for me to get moving, and I winced out of pain. “A pretty image cannot save you during the tournament, Carmen.”
A stormy mood was brewing inside of him, and my temperament was catching on. My stomach tightened with a cramp, and a wave of frustration coursed through me. Getting scolded like a child would not help me in this situation, but I was tired. I could swallow my pride and nod in agreement. After all, I was determined to prove myself.
“Bueno, entonces voy primero,” I bit out hastily while slinging the weighted pack over my shoulders. There were buckles I fastened which secured the pack across my chest and hips. In my few lessons, I’d learned this was to disperse weight evenly across my body so that I wouldn’t tire quickly.
It was good advice, but unnecessary for most people who were actually trying to endure a rough life. When traveling with Magda, we never had so many belongings as to need weight distribution. The Élite version of “survival” was far more luxurious than any Dreg.
We walked through the forest, Antonio following closely behind as we scanned for signs of food or shelter materials that might be useful later in the evening. The snowy forest caught every sound and threw it back. Only heavy footsteps and long breaths passed between us for the first hour.Señor Castillasoffered no critiques, nor did he murmur helpful strategies.
I felt a little unsure, but didn’t want to show weakness before my mentor. Asking questions didn’t feel like the right thing to do.
As the minutes passed by, the stormy mood inside him seemed to dissipate as well, replaced by an air of intense focus. It was something that begrudgingly endeared me to him.
As we neared the base of a sloping mountain, I paused. Antonio barely looked at me as he trekked forward. My head was spinning, but I took a deep breath and continued. It felt important to regain my head as the lead, even though Antonio was more experienced.
The sun continued its climb across the sky, and, despite the frigid temperatures, I was sweating.
I was drowning in my own thoughts when a painful swallow showed how thirsty I’d become. When I halted, the pair of footsteps behind me did as well. I listened for the sound of running water so that we could fill our canteens. I was feeling disoriented, and felt somewhat idiotic for not having thought of it earlier.
Taking a step, and then pausing, I repeated the pattern until the bright trickling sound came from the south, and I relaxed. My body still hurt, but I was stubborn. I could find a rhythm.
While I walked with renewed zest, Antonio had grown stern once again. That same vacillating behavior he seemed to exhibit often reared its ugly head.
“¿No vas a hablar conmigo?” I asked hesitantly and immediately was rewarded with a hint of exasperation in his eyes.
“You are here to learn from me, not the other way around. If you have a question, ask. I will not baby you the entire weekend,” he said rudely.
My brow furrowed and my heart sank, so I kept quiet, rather than start a fight. If this weekend was less important, I might have stood up for myself more.
