Snippet #2072469

Cammara made herself small. It hadn’t worked when Johno had accused her of trying to escape. As she’d learned, there were too many vulnerable places to protect them all, and it was easy for anyone to pry her open like a clam. She’d hated freshwater clams. Silly thing to think about now. She dragged her forehead across her forearm and buried her face into the crook of her elbow. PET nestled uncomfortably in the tangle of her limbs; it was large enough to shield her if she wasn’t trying so hard to wrap herself around it and hide it from the Scavenger. She heard the final blow, but didn’t know for whom. Acrid ozone burned her nostrils, along with cloying minerals that hung in her dry throat, making her closed eyes water and her lungs spasm to find fresh air. It overpowered the scent of blood and offal, meaning it was closer. Her ears pricked on the sound of his weapon pulling free and she looked up, meeting his eyes.

Cammara unraveled her limbs out of the defensive crouch, letting her feet hang off the wagon before dropping the short distance to the ground. Her focus went to the dead Scavenger. The size… she could only assume it had been a child. She regarded the man’s face and saw the surety there she lacked. He’d killed it. It looked dead, but so did a sleeping snake. Just in case the thing was faking the stillness of death, she kept him between them. Scavenger mortality wasn’t something she wanted to get close enough to confirm.

He began talking. Introduced himself as Milo. Names were details she didn’t think were important at the moment, and the inane details of his preferences bordered on surreal. But if they survived this, she’d get him his coffee. As green and creamy as he wished.

“Cam,” she returned, feeling acutely uncomfortable with the name exchange. Imogen had told her horror stories of mages able to curse or control a person if given a name. She found herself hoping he wasn’t a mage. If she’d saved a mage and in turn been saved, they were even, and she had only to wait for him to turn on her, which was only what she expected from anyone in the Wastes. But it would gnaw at her that she’d given the key to a mage. It would be akin to setting Gozer free. Only she could trust Gozer wouldn’t save her life. That was it, was it? She didn’t want to owe her life to a mage.

She listened to his plan. She was about to tell him outright he was crazy, but she held her tongue in check. He’d told her to stay behind and he’d protect her. They’d each done exactly that, and had come out of it alive. It was something to consider. Then again, she would have done it anyway. And he’d have done it anyway, because the Scavenger had attacked him. Mustn’t give him too much credit.

Only it was terribly hard to not be impressed. He’d killed it with a fork. In less than a minute. She was staring, wasn’t she? Cammara made a conscious effort to look away.

But his plan was still terrible.

Who retreats closer toward the city of gnashing hungry cannibals? Seriously, might as well crawl into a Scavenger’s mouth now. They have better technology, are on their territory, and already know we’re here. We have no advantage. We’re going to die.

Cammara’s fingers were back in the wagon. Where her fingers were, her eyes were, and at least this way she could keep track of them. It made sense that items used often would be within easy reach. It wasn’t proving true in practice. Surely there was something more. Better than possibly spoiled grain and a bag of salt, she amended. An idea struck her, and she stuck her hand under the carriage of the wagon, blinding searching out with her fingertips until she closed over something smooth and cool. Ripping it out from its hideyhole, she dangled a flask by its short chain. “For you. Use later,” she said before tossing it to Milo. It was alcohol, something better than the rotgut the other slavers had access to, and not at all like the smooth spirits Cameron made to keep them warm in winter. She knew whose it was. He wouldn’t miss it. She was confident it would dissuade Milo’s abused flesh from becoming septic.

“How long did it take you to decide that structure was defensible?” she said. Cammara couldn’t bite her tongue forever, and she rationalized there was no nice way to communicate how horrible his plan was. She spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t have time to be offended, and in no small part because there was a panic lying in wait to swallow her should they stay here a moment longer: “If it is good, that building hasn’t been vacant in seven centuries. Not my first choice for holding out a siege. It is a fine tomb. Very tall. I think though the locals would know best where the nearest watering hole is. They probably eat there regularly.”

Speaking of which, the furry beast had impeccable timing, like it had heard a dinner bell. Or maybe it had followed them in. It couldn’t have attacked in the ravine. Too many had been alive then. Predators didn’t attack herds (and there was no doubt in her mind that this was a predator); they attacked individuals that strayed from the group, or those too weak to adequately defend themselves. It was large, very large, so it didn’t need a pack to take down a human. There had been mountain lions and bears back home that hunted solo, but this creature wasn’t acting at all like either species. Its paws, massive as they were, were not structured for the terrain of the Ruins, which suggested strongly that the Ruins were not its native environment. Like a nut around a nail, it didn’t belong. “Milo, what kind of animal watches a chained lamb but does not eat it?” The question wasn’t as rhetorical as her tone implied, and despite the slew of analytical ground she’d covered, came quickly on the tail of her last words. The beast might not be hungry. Or it might be suspicious, familiar with the concept of traps. Or, as she suspected, it did not eat humans. Even if it wasn’t harmless, it wasn’t a flesh-rending Scavenger or the ancestral family home of a flesh-rending Scavenger.

“I think we should go back through the ravine. I don’t want to be trapped in a dark tower with no clear escape route and who knows how many Scavengers.”