The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (positive books to read txt) 📗

me that there was something dangerous on the other side of the mist.

Samuel and I remained frozen for several minutes. My shoulders were starting to ache from holding my arms up for so long. I had good muscle control, but no matter how strong a person was, they wouldn’t be able to hold a position like this forever.

Suddenly, there was a creaking sound from above, from something moving in the canopy. I started to look up, when the bushes I was trained on moved. I froze, sweat trickling down my neck.

I heard the rustling moving away, and I frowned. Whatever it was, it was not attacking, but moving away. I took a few steps after it, pushing through the dense undergrowth, trying to make it out. The movement stopped, and for a second, the mist thinned, casting a shadow.

It was large, barely distinguishable, but I froze as I could make out one significant detail. It was standing on two legs.

Suddenly recalling Alejandro’s words, I wanted to move on from the area as quickly as possible. Alejandro had told me that “mist ghosts” existed, but I’d never believed him. Now, I wasn’t entirely sure what I had seen, but it had been tall, as tall as me, and large.

And, given that the forest reacted to it like a predator, it might change its mind and come back. I had no intention of becoming a meal. Samuel and I would make a wide circle around, as it was right in our path. It was better to be delayed than to walk into a trap.

Behind us, the silence persisted, and I felt as if thousands of eyes were watching me. I kept my gun in my hand as we moved as quickly and quietly as possible away from the area.

It took several hours for me to stop checking over my shoulder.

10

Violet

Everything ached, from the top of my head to my toes. Each step I took was agony, and I wasn’t sweating, which was a bad sign. Shivering, I leaned on my makeshift walking cane, and pulled the canteen from my pocket, sucking down the cool water. This was the third time I had drained it, and each time, to my amazement, it had filled up again. It must have been designed to draw moisture from the atmosphere somehow.

I wiped my mouth, coughing. I shifted my bag, grimacing at how heavy it felt on my shoulders, checked my compass, and then started moving.

I wasn’t moving quietly. I knew it, and I hated it. Each step I made was obnoxiously loud, even to me, and I was on the verge of delirium. The bite wounds on my thigh continued throbbing, as if reminding me that the centipede had won. Or, at least, would win, very soon.

Ignoring my macabre thoughts, I pressed on. Cutting the walking stick had been a good idea on my part. It was perfect for pushing brush aside as I passed by. I was leaving a trail, but I figured it didn’t really matter—as animals were going to be following my scent anyway. And if anyone was looking for me… well, I wouldn’t be around for much longer, so let them find me.

I stopped my depressing line of thought yet again, not willing to agree with the part of me so eager to surrender. I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

I pressed forward, the leaves rattling all around me. The steps seemed to merge together as I focused solely on the ground in front of me. I stumbled and tripped constantly, but I picked myself back up, and kept going.

Talking to myself helped, a little bit. I kept urging my body on. It was hard. Each step felt like I had run a mile without stopping.

In a small clearing, I paused to take another break. I allowed myself the luxury of sitting down, but only to check my wound. The area around the bite was no longer red, but purple and swollen. The entire area was about as big as my fist. Liquid welled from the punctures with that same yellow pus tinged scarlet with my blood.

Crap.

I ripped another piece of my dress. What I was about to do was going to hurt, a lot, but I needed to drain the wound. Taking a deep breath, I started to squeeze the wound, forcing the infectious fluid out.

The agony was tremendous, like someone was shoving red hot pokers into my thigh and wiggling them around.

I managed to choke back my scream, but after I finished, I collapsed, dizzy from the pain. It took me a few minutes for it to pass, but when it did, I managed to rinse the wound off and wrap it with a new rag. The old one, I tossed on the ground.

It was tempting to stay there. The moss and debris covering the ground was soft, and I was so very tired. But I couldn’t let myself—I knew that once I closed my eyes, it would be impossible to get back up. So I forced myself to stand, using the walking stick to help keep my balance. I groaned as the weight of the bag hit me, and I almost collapsed again.

It was the egg. That blasted egg. It was weighing me down. I had to reconsider trekking through the forest with it, but I was worried hiding it this far into The Green would mean that it could never be recovered. I had to be smart about where I hid it, if I was going to leave it anywhere at all.

My mind wasn’t feeling particularly up to the task. It was difficult to hold a thought long enough to continue it. I took a long drag of water, and resolved to eat some of the food. Maybe it would help.

I pulled a tin out of the bag and cracked it open. The protein gel was so unappetizing, I felt my stomach tighten in protest, trying to force it out before it even went in. But