got to my feet and stumbled off in a scatter-minded fashion, only vaguely aware of the direction I was going in. “Perhaps I should try drinking the clouds,” I mumbled wearily. The suggestion was so earnest and so full of hope, I had no choice but to bend my will to the slippery insanity. Jumping off one foot then the other, I sucked in air with all my might before tumbling dramatically to the ground and earning myself a drink of dry dust.
“Perhaps I should try running as fast as I can, to try and collect water droplets in the air.” I flailed my arms around in a pathetic hash of movement while I shuffled myself forward. After a few minutes, I realized with weary giddiness that a horde of thin droplets had materialized on my limbs. I slurped them down, and recoiled at their salty flavour. “Not water,” I concluded, before walking off again.
“Perhaps I should try drinking the strange yellow vial in my pocket,” I suggested while snickering a little.” I paused to consider the prospect. In many ways it was the most ridiculous of my options, yet it was the only one that carried tangible possibility. Right there, just resting by my thigh was an opportunity for me to be free of hunger and thirst and possibly even survive. Would I deny my body this? I tried to rationalise further. Professor Wenchenberg could have given this to me. He would want me to survive, even if I couldn’t see any logical reason for it. The Grimlars on the other hand would love giving the trainees a vial of poison. They’d probably laugh themselves to tears at the thought of a stupid little Ickle-bit accidentally killing himself.
“Keep your pockets clean.” Profesor Wenchenberg’s voice repeated in my head. Did he mean for me to get rid of what was in my pockets, or to keep what it was inside? It seemed certain that he knew about this beforehand, but whether or not he made his intentions clear was something else entirely.
I removed the vial from my pocket and held it up to the light. “It almost looks like molten gold,” I mumbled to myself after a while. I licked my wilted lips and laughed weakly. “Yeah, it really does in this light doesn’t it? Pure gold.” I had just said this when a memory in my head suddenly fluttered. I remembered that just three nights ago I was reading about gold. I pressed my sandy palm into my sticky forehead as I thought about this for another moment. “There was something about gold and dragons,” I said, now pacing back and forth. “It said that gold was the reason dragons lived so long. Wasn’t gold supposed to be the life essence of a dragon?” I cocked my head to one side and felt my mouth fall agape as a new thought crossed my mind
“This may be a dragon soul,” I said, surprising even myself. It took me a moment to fully realize what I said and when I did, a horde of questions swarmed me. “Where would the professor get a dragon soul? Why of all people would he give it to me? What are the odds of survival if I were to drink it?” To become one of the Quenched would be to risk everything, but did I have anything to lose? Was there any other way to survive?” I clenched at my chest, feeling terribly sick at the thought of making a decision this big. There I was, slowly dying from the elements and letting myself believe that there was no way to fix it. The vial made its presence known as I continued to walk forward, bumping against my leg with every step I took.
“I’m going to die,” I admitted coldly. “Today or tomorrow or even years from now; I’m going to die.” I wiped my salt stained face with my arm and sniffed a bit. “It doesn’t even matter what I do now. The outcome is all the same isn’t it?” I asked as if expecting an answer. I gritted my teeth and shook my head but just kept talking. “Why am I running from this great big thing that’s always going to catch up with me? What’s the point in running if its only
“Perhaps I should try running as fast as I can, to try and collect water droplets in the air.” I flailed my arms around in a pathetic hash of movement while I shuffled myself forward. After a few minutes, I realized with weary giddiness that a horde of thin droplets had materialized on my limbs. I slurped them down, and recoiled at their salty flavour. “Not water,” I concluded, before walking off again.
“Perhaps I should try drinking the strange yellow vial in my pocket,” I suggested while snickering a little.” I paused to consider the prospect. In many ways it was the most ridiculous of my options, yet it was the only one that carried tangible possibility. Right there, just resting by my thigh was an opportunity for me to be free of hunger and thirst and possibly even survive. Would I deny my body this? I tried to rationalise further. Professor Wenchenberg could have given this to me. He would want me to survive, even if I couldn’t see any logical reason for it. The Grimlars on the other hand would love giving the trainees a vial of poison. They’d probably laugh themselves to tears at the thought of a stupid little Ickle-bit accidentally killing himself.
“Keep your pockets clean.” Profesor Wenchenberg’s voice repeated in my head. Did he mean for me to get rid of what was in my pockets, or to keep what it was inside? It seemed certain that he knew about this beforehand, but whether or not he made his intentions clear was something else entirely.
I removed the vial from my pocket and held it up to the light. “It almost looks like molten gold,” I mumbled to myself after a while. I licked my wilted lips and laughed weakly. “Yeah, it really does in this light doesn’t it? Pure gold.” I had just said this when a memory in my head suddenly fluttered. I remembered that just three nights ago I was reading about gold. I pressed my sandy palm into my sticky forehead as I thought about this for another moment. “There was something about gold and dragons,” I said, now pacing back and forth. “It said that gold was the reason dragons lived so long. Wasn’t gold supposed to be the life essence of a dragon?” I cocked my head to one side and felt my mouth fall agape as a new thought crossed my mind
“This may be a dragon soul,” I said, surprising even myself. It took me a moment to fully realize what I said and when I did, a horde of questions swarmed me. “Where would the professor get a dragon soul? Why of all people would he give it to me? What are the odds of survival if I were to drink it?” To become one of the Quenched would be to risk everything, but did I have anything to lose? Was there any other way to survive?” I clenched at my chest, feeling terribly sick at the thought of making a decision this big. There I was, slowly dying from the elements and letting myself believe that there was no way to fix it. The vial made its presence known as I continued to walk forward, bumping against my leg with every step I took.
“I’m going to die,” I admitted coldly. “Today or tomorrow or even years from now; I’m going to die.” I wiped my salt stained face with my arm and sniffed a bit. “It doesn’t even matter what I do now. The outcome is all the same isn’t it?” I asked as if expecting an answer. I gritted my teeth and shook my head but just kept talking. “Why am I running from this great big thing that’s always going to catch up with me? What’s the point in running if its only
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