Page 256 of Interion

“If you'd shut up and actually look, I'm sure we'll find it,” I snapped, picking up the pace again.

My patience for conversation with Adele was paper-thin. During my short—and unfortunate—time at her side, I'd discovered she couldn't run and talk at the same time, so that's exactly what I made us do. We ran at a slow pace for about an hour. With each step, I heard her breathing grow more labored. Dehydration had to be setting in hard by now, and neither of us had found a single drop of water. Judging by how far we'd come, I figured we were already in the field where I'd seen the green glows, and from the sun's position, it had to be close to 5 p.m. I slowed down, my thirst and hunger catching up with me. After all that running, my mouth was so dry my throat felt raw.

“We should be near the edge of the third area by now. There's got to be a vial around here somewhere,” I said, panting.

Adele collapsed onto the ground and stared up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Her chest heaved frantically, and her lips were dry and pale. If I was starting to dehydrate, she had to be worse off. We needed to fix this today, or she wouldn't have the strength to keep going tomorrow—and I sure as hell couldn't carry her the whole way.

“I'll watch for vials. You look for food and water,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Fine, but let's stick together.”

I held out a hand to help her up. The Yonserian ignored it and got up on her own, even though she looked ready to pass out. I nocked an arrow and set off hunting. This time, I was focused on bagging a bird. I could hear them singing, but every one I spotted was too small to be worth the meat—and harder to clean besides. We circled the area, and with each wasted minute, I grew more nervous and restless. Was it too much to ask for an owl or a hawk? Hell, I'd take a vulture at this point.

“Don't you miss your nation?” Adele was staring more at the sky than at the forest. The question caught me so off guard I stopped dead in my tracks.

“No…” Thinking about my old life wouldn't do me any good during the test, so I kept it short and blunt: “Drutes treated me like garbage. I don't miss that.”

She kept gazing at the sky, biting her lip as she thought it over.

“I miss Yonser. The cold, ice skating, the theaters, the walks through the frost—especially the serun caterpillars. I miss everything. I'm like an ugly duckling, out of place in Interion.” A blue butterfly fluttered across our path, and Adele stopped to watch it. “I wish I were a butterfly so I could fly back home.”

I frowned, glancing between my ally and the forest around us. That was the strangest conversation we'd ever had, and her soft, slurred voice had to be a symptom of dehydration. Worried, I turned my attention back to the hunt and tuned out Adele's rambling so I could focus on fixing our problem.

“No, little butterfly, I can't fly. I can't keep up with you,” I heard her say behind me.

“Be quiet! You'll scare off every animal out here if you keep that up.”

She acted like she was at an amusement park, smiling at everything around us.

“The forest is strange,” she murmured.

My steps were silent as a heron's, while hers were heavy as an elephant's.

“This is a swamp—it's different from the start of the test.” As I hunted, I also scanned the treetops for the blue flower, but I didn't spot any.

“Swamp? Are swamps usually this dark, full of butterflies and talking trees?”

I spotted a large white bird perched on a branch, so I drew the bowstring taut and aimed without any sudden movements. Its eyes found mine anyway, and it stared back with haughty indifference. It was a creature of the forest—it saw no danger in an earthbound thing like me. But I was a hungry earthbound thing, incapable of feeling any remorse for the animal that was about to become my dinner. When I released the arrow, it struck the bird's chest dead center. It plummeted from the tree and hit the muddy ground with a wet thud. I ran over, ready for a second shot in case it was still alive, but found it stone dead. The arrow had pierced its heart.

“Got one, Adele!”

I grabbed the bird and headed back to her. She was looking around with bright eyes, admiring the swamp. I remembered what she'd said before about the place—that it was dark and… full of butterflies and talking trees?

“Adele?” I lowered the bird, holding it by its feet. “You all right?”

“Yes. Everything's wonderful. Do you see the lights too?”

All I saw around me was the dark swamp. My mood soured.

“Did you drink toxic water?”

She blinked several times, trying to grasp the words as if they were shrouded in fog. Then her eyes went wide.

“Are you crazy? I didn’t drink any—you saw me! I dropped the water when you pulled me.”

She seemed to come back to herself somewhat, but there was still a hazy look in her eyes.

“Then why are you hallucinating? What’s all this about talking butterflies?” I demanded, worried and angry at the same time.