Relief washed through me as mud squelched beneath my boots. The water level reached my elbows now.
Confidence rising, I pulled the flowers from my mouth, shivering in the crushing cold.
Three more steps and the water was only at my waist.
An overwhelming wall of light hit a nearby palm tree, bark exploding out in a small fire before it was immediately quenched out. The rumbling of thunder was deafening.
Temporarily unable to hear, the roar of a swell cresting toward me went unnoticed. It flashed in my peripheral vision two seconds too late.
Twisting myself to get out of the way, I fell to my hands and knees as my head went under the water line. I pushed back up against the pressure of the water clamping me down, managing to regain my footing as I gasped for air.
Too late, I realized that I'd lost my grip on one flower when I fell.
If I tried to catch up to it with the current going as strong as it was, I wouldn't make it to the outpost before sunset.
Gritting my teeth against the protesting pain of my ankle and the ice settling into my bones through my frozen skin, I turned away from the river and continued walking back.
It took closer to two hours to walk the final stretch, injured as I was. And every step was arduous. Distantly,I wondered if I was suffering from the starting stages of hypothermia. I could no longer feel the fingers that gripped my last remaining blossom.
Trudging back through the gate, I held my flattened and mud-caked King Protea close to my chest. My teammates were gathered where we'd first introduced ourselves, holding their own flowers. Displeasure darkened my expression when I saw Orin. Pasha wasn't with the team.
“Cutting it a bit close,” Georlan said as I approached. There wasn’t enough strength left in me to respond.
“How many did you get?” Mikalyn asked, and I held up the one drooping flower I'd managed to obtain. “Oh, well, that's okay! One is better than none.”
Her confidence in that far outshone my own.
I sent an ugly look at Orin, who avoided looking at me.
Searching the courtyard, I noted that Sarina's team hadn't returned yet. Unease stirred to life in my gut.
Rosa and Benji both looked like they were injured, she was cradling her left arm with her right, and he had a bloody trail of scrapes down what I could see of his right arm and leg. They both held onto two flowers though.
Pasha was standing beside Zevrial near a wall. Relief shot through me. It looked like they were in a deep conversation. The expression on his face was murderous.
Izaiah and Talissa looked no worse for wear, both clutching several flowers in their hands.
My breath snagged as I caught sight of Henrik.
There were only four people standing where his team should be.
One half of his face was darkening into a plum hue, his right eye swollen shut. There was a trail of blood snaking its way down the side of his face from his hairline. His right arm was limp at his side, and covered in bloody injuries. I took a steptoward him but stopped when Zevrial approached him before I could.
“We only have about ten minutes ‘til sundown.” Pasha returned to our team, wiping rainwater out of her face. “Do you think the last team will make it back?”
“Better for us if they don't,” Orin replied.
“My roommate is on that team.” I glared at him.
“Oh,” he said, unmoved.
My nerves had me fidgeting as we waited for the final team to return. Or maybe it was because I still couldn't feel my hands. The sun was a shrouded sliver of gray light above the horizon now. There wasn't much time left.
“C'mon, come on Sarina,” I muttered.
The squishing sound of heavy footfalls carried ahead of their owners. The breath I'd been holding came out in a whoosh as her team poured through the gate.
Like everyone else here, they were covered in mud-soaked clothes and looked haggard. Unlike everyone else, they didn't appear to have any injuries, and in their arms they carried–
