"He is a disease, Hana. A pink, fuzzy disease. You shouldn't have let him stay." Caspian declared irritably.
"He's a resource," Hana said, splashing water onto her face to clear the lingering heat of the dragon's breath. "And right now, I need resources more than I need your jealousy. Now get those berries and turn around. I'm coming out, and I'm still very much hungry."
Caspian grabbed the Peppercorn vines with a huff, his tail dragging behind him in the dirt as he marched back toward the camp.
Hana waited until the heavy thud of his footsteps faded before she stepped out of the water. Her skin tingled—partly from the cold, and partly from the strange, dual marks on her body that seemed to pulse.
Huff.
She looked at her hands. They were clean, but the world was still a mess.
"One million points," she whispered, pulling a large Salt-Leaf from a bush to wrap around her damp hair. "I'm going to need a lot more than spices to get through this."
