Chapter Twelve: Ring Around Gilligan
At least her hearing was unaffected. Her hands were shaky and freezing, her vision blurred, and her mouth was dry as sand and tasted vaguely of copper after her last coughing fit, but damn it, she'd hear them coming a mile away. Whether she could do anything about it or not was kind of up in the air.
Okay, her sense of smell was just fine, too. Unfortunately, the 'forest fresh air' scent was fighting a losing battle with 'hey, we haven't showered in two days' and 'vaguely burning human flesh.' It wasn't calming her stomach even a little bit.
Her toe hit a rock and she lurched forward, stopped only by the solid hands of Ambassador Tremaine and young Sean Avery. Poor kid. "Thanks," she breathed.
"Do you need to stop?" the ambassador asked, concerned.
She resolutely shook her head. "I'll stop when I'm dead."
"That's what I'm vaguely afraid of."
"Yeah, well," she puffed weakly, "'till then." Distracted, she missed another step, and this time she ended up on her elbows and knees in the dirt. The sudden motion upset her stomach, and she lost what little they'd found to eat. But the hands simply waited until she was in control and pulled her upright yet again.
"You know what?" Tremaine said softly, his hand staying firmly on her upper arm and giving is a squeeze. "I'm just gonna leave this here. For now."
"Sounds like a plan."