by N. D. Wilson
Cyrus shut his eyes again. Both of his hands were on his chest. He clenched his fist and felt his fingers close around the bamboo cane. He felt for the silver knob on top. The jolt of cold when he touched it told him that the tooth was still inside.
“Where are we?” Cyrus asked.
“When I woke up,” Mercy said, “we were in this weird temple made of bones up the mountain from here. I dragged you as far away from there as I could as soon as I could. You should drink something. We’ve been here two days and you’ve been sweating the whole time.”
Cyrus was drifting off into a strange dream with black water. Maybe he could drink that.
“There is water pretty close,” Mercy said. “You can hear it. But … hey!”
Mercy opened Cyrus’s eyelids with her fingertips. “You won’t believe this. It’s patrolled by these giant dragonflies. And I mean giant.”
Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows and his eyelids snapped back shut.
“Fine,” Mercy said. “Pass out again. But tell me your name first.”
Cyrus exhaled slowly. “I am called the Desolation.”
Mercy said something, but he didn’t hear. He was floating in black water, and his ears were below the surface. For some reason, it was easier to open his eyes here.
Dan was seated at a little metal table with his head in his hands, staring at the water.
When he saw Cyrus, he exploded out of his chair. His laugh sent ripples across the surface.
GRATITUDE
Paul S. for the push
Jim T. for the bittersweet
Mallory L. for the first launch
Lovely for the dreams
My attic-dwelling bunk-bed readers for the excitement
Every last one of y’all for joining the Smiths in Ashtown
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
N. D. WILSON is the bestselling author of the 100 Cupboards series and Leepike Ridge. Once, in the fourth grade, he split his buddy’s arrow while shooting at a mattress from twenty yards. Now he writes at the top of a tall, skinny house, where he lives with a blue-eyed girl he stole from the ocean, their five young explorers, two tortoises, and one snake. For more information, please visit AshtownBurials.com.