“Here be dragons.”
“That…that’s a joke, right?”
He cocks his head, eyeing me. “Why would anyone write a joke on a map?”
He’s got an excellent point about that. I swallow hard. “Maybe not there, then. Okay, new plan. I think we’ve got enough provisions to last us about a week. We’ll switch directions and head west, to move along the shore.” I trail my finger, indicating where we’ll go. “Once we hit the shoreline, we’ll head north. It looks like there’s a fair number of settlements in that direction, and if we hit the city that your other Aspect just left, they shouldn’t be expecting that.”
Kalos grunts. “I suppose.”
“Well, I think it’s a decent plan.”
“You made friends with a goat,” he points out. “I question your judgment.”
I keep smiling, because I’m used to endless grumping. Wasn’t David always an absolute Eeyore when he was in the worst of his cancer treatments? But one of us needs to keep our chin up. “You’re not wrong, considering I elected to be your Anchor.”
He eyes me. Humphs. If he weren’t Apathy, I’d say he was amused at my rejoinder.
I take the map from him and study it, reinvigorated by having a plan. There’s no scale on this map, but it shows a few roads and what look like rock-like landmarks. The temple area we just left isn’t too far from the city, so if we spend a few days in the swamps and circle back, I’m hoping we can hit the shore before we starve to death.
Otherwise, I might have to learn how to catch a gator.
Or eat Dingle.
No, actually. I’d never eat Dingle. That’d be like eating the family dog.
I’ll figure something out. I use my thumbnailto make marks on the map, trying to determine miles or leagues or whatever they’re called here. Of course, getting to town poses a new problem. “We’re going to need weapons to defend ourselves. Any ideas?”
As I glance over at the god, his lip curls. “How should I know? You’re the one in charge.”
“You’re literally agod.”
“Of disease.” He sniffs. “And I’ve been cast out on the mortal realm with a fool at my side.”
“Well, I’m not from here. You still probably know more than me.”
Eyes narrowed, he turns to look at me. His look could curdle milk. “Exactly why did they give meyouas an Anchor?”
I fold up the map. “Because no one else would take the job.”
Chapter
Ten
After two days of trudging through endless swamps, I’m ready to throttle Kalos. Or Dingle. Or myself.
I never thought I’d hate water so much. Or mosquitos. Or trees. Or mud. I’m lucky that the alligators or whatever else lives here avoid us. They instinctively shy away from us, and I’m guessing that it’s because of Kalos, and the same reason that the mosquitos don’t even bite him. He gives off some sort of vibe I can’t see, and they don’t mess with him.
I’m not so lucky as that. I’m bug-bitten over every bit of skin, even the parts that aren’t exposed. I can’t scratch because I don’t want to make things worse (and I know if I start, I’ll never stop) so I apply mud and grit my teeth. We have to pause multiple times a day so I can pull leeches off my skin. Luckily, they fall off with a touch of the herby-smelling oil that Jemet gave me. I’d cover myself in it, but the water would wash it away. So I just pause, dab, watch them fall off, pause and dab and watch them fall.
It’s amazing how you get used to even the worst things in the world quickly.
Dingle is having a blast in the swamp, at least. He eats everything within reach, frolics over roots and across fallen, rotting trees, and I’m constantly retrieving him out of trouble because he wants to explore. The last thing I want in a never-ending, bug-filled swamp? An exploring, hyperactive goat.
By the time we stop each night, I’m exhausted, filthy, and my feet are pruny with water and feel disgusting. I study the map over and over as I eye our diminishing supplies. My pack gets lighter every day, which is a good thing, but I underestimated how very hungry I’d be. As Kalos’s Anchor, I’m already eating three times what I normally do. Add in a day of exercise on top of that and even the tree bark that Dingle pauses to nibble on starts to look good. I’m rationing things as best I can, but we’re going to be cleaned out if we don’t find something—or someone—soon.
On day three of our endless swamp trudging, I put a hand over my eyes to shield them from the blinding afternoon sun. We’re walking directly toward it, now heading west towards (what I hope) is the coast, and it’s roasting my already sunburned face. “I wish I had a sun hat right about now.”
“That’s the only thing you want right now?” Kalos comments, the first time he’s spoken today.
