Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
An animal, I adamantly insisted to myself. It was just an animal.
Even as my mind tried protesting that, I shoved my uncertainties aside and kept walking. As I came upon what appeared to be my first real challenge, I paused to study it even as my whole system went ugh.
Seven thick logs zigzagged in a forward-fashion along the center of the floor. A portion of the floor that was covered in cacti spines, which meant there would be no running over or around it. The thing was … the logs themselves were also covered in spines, so there would be no walking over them either.
There were, however, square patches of baked earth zigzagging beneath the logs in the alternate forward direction. Which meant that the only way to pass the obstacle was to jump over each log diagonally, always ensuring that my feet landed on a square.
It didn’t sound too hard. Typically, I wouldn’t worry about it. But my coordination wasn’t at its best, and my balance was shot to shit.
Swearing to myself, I shoved my damp curls from my face and crossed to the first log. I’d fought my way through harder challenges today. Of course, I hadn’t felt weak as a kitten then, but …
Shaking off that thought, I tossed my leg over the log and pressed my foot down on the square there. All right. So far so good.
A growl echoed throughout the cavern.
I stilled, my heart thrashing in my chest. The growl had come from somewhere behind me, and I wasn’t sure just how far behind. Terror crawled over me, sharp and ice-cold.
Move, move, move.
Trying for stealth, I carefully eased my other leg over the log. Which was right when the square began to tremble. Shift. Crumble.
Fuck. The grating sounds did not help my need for stealth.
Moving as fast as I dared, I cleared the second log. The exact same thing happened: the square shook and heaved and felt as if it would crumble to nothing. So, once more, I acted fast. The pattern yet again repeated itself with the third log. And the fourth. And the fifth.
I quickly eased my first leg over the sixth log—
Another grating growl drifted through the passage.
I made a misstep as my body jerked in panic, and my foot landed right on the bed of thorns. I clenched my jaw to muffle a pained hiss as I snatched my foot back and then carefully stepped onto the square. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. The thorns had pierced my boots and stabbed the bottom of my foot.
I couldn’t afford to baby the injury, though. Couldn’t afford to even think about it. I needed to get on the move again pronto.
With swift but weak movements, I managed to clear the obstacle, placing my feet back on stable ground. Stable, rough, hot, sandy ground that was already making my brand new wounds burn like hellfire. It was only my fear of facing the minotaur that kept me moving.
I tried making as little noise as possible, straining to hear any more sounds that would indicate he was close. My breaths were coming short and raspy now. Each one felt like sandpaper on my scratchy throat.
When nothing seemed to be pursuing me, I wondered if I’d misjudged just how close the minotaur was. That made me frown. Several times now I’d thought that he was nearby, but he never caught up. I never came across him any of the times I’d thought that he was somewhere up ahead.
A thought then struck me. Was it possible that he wasn’t even real? That this was merely a mind game? Could we have been told that we might be stalked by such a creature only to ramp up our fear?
Maybe. I’d heard screams and growls, yes. But who was to say that they were real? I’d only come across one dead body—poor Finian—and he’d sadly met his end at the hand of a pool of ice, not a minotaur.
I turned a corner … and saw a tumbleweed rolling toward me. Swearing, I pressed my back against the wall to avoid it. A wall so hot I jerked forward slightly, almost causing me to crash right into the tumbleweed.
Puffing out a breath once the passage was once more clear, I began to walk again. I flapped the front of my tunic, wishing that I had something to fan myself with. I was so sweltering hot that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam wafting from my skin, or to find that my sweat was sizzling like grease in a heated pot.
I’d earlier told myself that I’d never complain about heat again. Ha. How naïve I’d been.
It had helped that my clothes were initially wet—it had given me some reprieve from the heat. But they’d dried fast. And maybe it was due to the temperature, but every scent that clung to them seemed more pungent than ever.