"Cady?" Maggie stared, then scrambled over therocks toward the other girl.
Arcadia was still lying in the hollow, but her body was now limp. Her dark head sagged tonelessly on her slender neck. Her eyes were shut; theskin over her face was drawn tight.
"Cady! Can you hear me?"
For a horrible second she thought the older girlwas dead. Then she saw the tiny rise and fall ofher chest and heard the faint sound of breathing.
There was a roughness to the breathing thatMaggie didn't like. And at this distance she couldfeel the heat that rose from Cady's skin.
She's got a high fever. All that running andclimbing made her sicker. She needs help, fast.
Maggie looked backupat the boy.
He had finished with the handkerchief and wasnow taking the top off some kind of leather bag.
Suddenly Maggie's eyes focused. Not a leatherbag; a canteen. He was tilting it up to drink.
Water.
All at once she was aware of her thirst again. Ithad been shoved to the back of her mind, a con stant pain that could be forgotten while she wastrying to escape from the slave traders. But now it was like a raging fire inside her. It was the most important thing in the world.
And Arcadia needed it even more than she did."Please," she said. "Can we have some of that?
Could you drop it to me? I can catch it."
He looked at her quickly, not startled but withcool annoyance. "And how am I supposed to getit back?"
"I'll bring it to you. I can climb up."`"You can't," he said flatly.
"Watch me."
She climbed up. It was as easy as she'd thought;plenty of good finger-and toeholds.
When she pulled herself up onto the ledge besidehim, he shrugged, but there was reluctant respect in his eyes.
"You're quick," he said. "Here." He held out theleather bag.
But Maggie was simply staring. This close, thefeeling of familiarity was overwhelming.
It was you in my dream, she thought. Not justsomebody like you.
She recognized everything about him. That supple, smoothly muscled body, and the way he hadof standing as if he were filled with tightly leashed tension. That dark hair with the tiny waves springing out where it got unruly. That taut, grim face, those high cheekbones, that willful mouth.
And especially the eyes. Those fearless, blacklashed yellow eyes that seemed to hold endless layers of clear brilliance. That were windows on thefiercely intelligent mind behind them.
The only difference was the expression. In thedream, he had been anxious and tender. Here, he seemed joyless and bitter ...and cold. As if hisentire being were coated with a very thin layer of ice.
But it was you, Maggie thought. Not just somebody like you, because I don't think thereis anybody like you.
Still lost in her memories, she said, "I'm MaggieNeely. What's your name?"
He looked taken aback. The golden eyes widened,then narrowed. "How dare you ask?" he rapped out. He sounded quite natural saying "How dareyou," although Maggie didn't think she'd ever heardanybody say it outside of a movie.
"I had a dream about you," Maggie said. "Atleast it wasn't me having the dream; it was moreasif it was sent to me." She was remembering details now. "You kept telling me that I had to dosomething....' ?
"I don't give a damn about your dreams," the boysaid shortly. "Now, do you want the water or not?"
Maggie remembered how thirsty she was. Shereached out for the leather bag eagerly.
He held onto it, not releasing it to her. "There'sonly enough for one," he said, still brusque. "Drink it here."
Maggie blinked. The bag did feel disappointinglyslack in her grip. She tugged at it a little and hearda faint slosh.
"Cady needs some, too. She's sick."
"She's more than sick. She's almost gone. There'sno point in wasting any on her."
I can't believe I'm hearing this again, Maggiethought. He's just like Jeanne.
She tugged at the bag harder. "If I want to share with her, that's my business, right? Why should it matter to you?"
"Because it's stupid. There's only enough forone."
"Look - !'
"You're not afraid of me, are'you?" he saidabruptly. The brilliant yellow eyes were fixed onher as if he could read her thoughts.
It was strange, but she wasn'tafraid, not exactly.Or, she was afraid, but something inside her wasmaking her go on in spite of her fear.
"Anyway, it's my water," he said. "And I saythere's only enough for one. You were stupid to tryand protect her before, when you could have gotten away. Now you have to forget about her."
Maggie had the oddest feeling that she was beingtested. But there was no time to figure out for what,or why.
"Fine. It's your water," she said, making her voicejust as clipped as his. "And there's only enough for one." She pulled at the bag harder, and this timehe let go of it.
Maggie turned from him, looked down at theboulders where Cady was lying. She judged the distance carefully, noting the way one boulder formeda cradle.
Easy shot. It'll rebound and wedge in that crack,she thought. She extended her arm to drop the bag.
"Wait!" The voice was harsh and explosive-andeven more harsh was the iron grip that clampedon her wrist.
"What do you think you're doing?" the boy saidangrily, and Maggie found herself looking intofierce yellow eyes.
Chapter 8
What are you doing?" he repeated ferociously.His grip was hurting her.
"I'm throwing the water bag down there," Maggiesaid. But she was thinking, He's so strong. Stronger than anybody I've ever met. He could break mywrist without even trying.
"I know that! Why?"
"Because it's easier than carrying it down in myteeth," Maggie said. But that wasn't the real reason,of course. The truth was that she needed to get temptation out of the way. She was so thirsty thatit was a kind of madness, and she was afraid ofwhat she would do if she held onto this cool, sloshing water bag much longer.
He was staring at her with those startling eyes,as if he were trying to pryhis way into her brain.And Maggie had the odd feeling that he'd succeeded, at least far enough that he knew the real reason she was doing this.
"You are an idiot," he said slowly, with cold wonder. "You should listen to your body; it's telling youwhat it needs. You can't ignore thirst. You can'tdeny it."