She doesn’t argue, which tells me how tired she really is. She climbs onto me and gets her arms around my neck, her legs around my middle. I start up the rock face, careful with every handhold, taking nothing for granted with her up there.
I get her into the overhang and put her down on the stone floor.
“Wait here. I’ll find us something to eat and something softer than rock to sleep on.”
She nods, already looking like she might fall asleep sitting up.
I go back down into the trees while there’s still enough light to see by.
Carla
I must doze off, because the next thing I know, Magma is climbing back into the overhang with his arms full.
“Hey.” I sit up, and my body protests the movement. “Did you find what you wanted?”
He nods and puts everything down between us without a word. There are two coconuts he cracks open. A handful of small, dark purple fruits I don’t recognize, about the size of plums, piled on a broad leaf. And something that looks suspiciously like a fish, already cleaned, that he must have caught somewhere close. I didn’t even know we were near water again.
“What are those?” I point at the purple ones.
“Jaboticaba.” He puts the leaf down between us. “They grow straight off the trunk. They’re sweet, but their skin is a little tart.”
“Oh. Never heard of them. I’m really hungry, so I’ll try anything. Thanks so much.”
“Good, because the fish is raw. We can’t start a fire out here. It’ll draw the Reds to us like a beacon. Just pretend you’re eating sushi.”
“I happen to love sushi.” I smile at him, but he gets busy arranging palm fronds along one side of the overhang, smoothing them flat, and then layering a few more on top. He doesn’t end up returning the smile, which stings.
“Is that for sleeping on?”
“Yes.”
I wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.
We eat in silence for a while. The fish is good, smoky somehow even though I never saw a fire, and the jaboticaba bursts tart and sweet against my tongue. Under any other circumstances I’d be making a much bigger deal out of how strange and wonderful it is to be eating fruit I’ve never heard of in the middle of a jungle that wants to kill me. Tonight I don’t have it in me.
“Is there a river close by?” I ask.
“Yes.” He nods.
“Oh my gosh. How did you catch that fish? You don’t have fishing line or a hook.”
“With these.” He lifts his hands. “Shifters are quick.” He starts to smile but then doesn’t.
I’m strangely disappointed in how subdued he is.
“Are we still on track? Like, are we close to the town?”
“We’re going the right way.”
That’s not really an answer, but I don’t push. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the fronds he’s still smoothing flat, even though they don’t need any more smoothing. His jaw is tight.
I think about asking him what’s wrong. I turn the words over a few different ways in my head, and then I let it go, because I’m fairly sure I already know the answer.
It’s me. It’s what happened earlier. He regrets it happened. Maybe he even blames me for it happening.
I get it. I do. I think he even feels guilty since Flint is his friend.
I swallow the last bite of fish and don’t say anything else.
