Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2) by Mikey Campling Page A

“Hey! Hello! Is anybody there?” There was no reply, but something scuttled away through the undergrowth to my right. It was probably just a rabbit or something. I hurried on. The trees were definitely thinning out. There must be something there . I jogged forward, breathing hard, the sweat running down my brow. It was so much lighter here. Perhaps there really was a picnic area after all, or something like it—some other sign of civilisation. I’d find out soon enough. I was almost there. I stepped out from beneath the trees, squinting in the sunlight.
    “Oh no!” I stood, gasping for breath, and shook my head. There was nothing. It was just an empty, grassy clearing. There wasn’t even a picnic bench. I ran my hands through my hair and a cold trickle of sweat ran down the back of my neck. “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.” I stood and stared at the ground. All I’d done was waste energy. Now I was even thirstier, and my leg muscles were killing me. “Idiot,” I muttered. “Stupid bloody idiot.”
    I shrugged my backpack off and sat down heavily on the grass. I stretched my legs out in front of me. My feet throbbed and tingled with tiredness. I pulled my trainer shoes and socks off, wiggled my toes down among the cool grass and took a long, slow breath.
    Without really thinking I plucked a tall stem of grass and peeled the lower leaves, exposing the pale base of the stem. I put it into my mouth and crushed the stem with my teeth. The juice was sweet and tasted so good, almost like butterscotch. But the taste didn’t last and it faded away to leave a faint bitterness. I threw the stem away. There were plenty more. I didn’t even have to move.
    I stayed there for a while, picking out the juiciest looking stems, then peeling them and sucking the juice. There can’t have been much goodness in them, but at least I wasn’t quite so thirsty, and the slightly sugary taste cheered me up. I should have a look around , I thought. Maybe I could find something better to eat .
    My socks were still damp with sweat so I shoved them into my backpack and put my trainers back on my bare feet. I stood up, threw my backpack onto my shoulders and set off around the edge of the clearing, studying the ground as I walked. I soon spotted some clover leaves nestling among the grass, and I bent down to pick a handful. I had the vague idea they were safe to eat. Perhaps it was something I’d remembered from my SAS book, but I wasn’t sure. I gave them a sniff. They didn’t smell of anything very much, just a general smell of greenery. “Could be worse,” I muttered. At least they didn’t smell even remotely like almonds. I nibbled the edge of a leaf. Not too bad . I popped a few of the leaves in my mouth and chewed them as I walked. I swallowed them down but they were only tiny and my stomach was churning like crazy. “Aha,” I whispered. “A dandelion.” I could definitely eat those. Dad had always been a foodie, and he’d once put the leaves in a salad and sprinkled parts of the flowers over the top. He’d told us you could make some sort of coffee substitute from drying out the roots. At the time, I wouldn’t eat the leaves despite his cajoling. Now, I wished I’d been more appreciative. Thanks, Dad .
    I squatted down and examined the crown of frilly leaves. The leaves on the edge were bigger, but they looked old and tough. Carefully, I pulled a younger leaf from the centre and pushed the whole thing into my mouth. “Oh my god,” I moaned. I pulled a face. The leaf was unbelievably bitter. I forced myself to chew it and swallow it down. Something tasting that bad had to be good for you. Reluctantly, I pulled a few more of the smaller leaves. “Best to get it over with,” I murmured. I put them all into my mouth at once and chewed them up as fast as I could. I had to force myself to swallow my mouthful of bitter mush. “Ugh! I preferred the grass.” I shook my head. Did I really just say that out loud? I worked