Draxin Alistair (16)'s Arc

Chapter 3 of 22

The desert swallowed Grants Lake behind them within an hour. Draxin walked with one hand shading his eyes and Zag tucked into the crook of his neck. He kept scanning the sand for the ten-year-old tracks he had promised himself he would find. There was nothing. The wind had been working these dunes since before he was born. Whatever trail the men in long coats had left was gone. "We've been walking in a circle," Zag said. "We haven't." "That rock. I've seen it twice." Draxin looked at the rock. He didn't answer. He turned east instead, toward a smudge of color on the horizon. As they got closer the smudge became trees, curling up out of the sand with leaves in orange and red and green. A whole small forest, alive in the middle of nothing. He was halfway to the tree line when he saw her. A girl sat on a low root, still as a lizard, a white and blue cat mask covering her face. Black ponytail. Gray tank top. Ripped brown pants. She did not look at him as he passed. He did not stop. "Weird," Zag whispered. "Everyone out here is weird." Draxin pushed between two twisted trunks. The shade was cool. He was thinking about water when the ground shook. He froze. It shook again. Then a low, wet snort came from behind the trees on his left. The thing that stepped out was the size of a wagon. Muscled like a bear. Black stripes cut across fur that was half green, half red. Its face was pulled back in a tiger's snarl, and two thick horns curved forward from its skull. It saw him. It lowered its head. Draxin ran. He crashed back the way he came, Zag clinging on and shrieking. The beast tore after him. Roots snapped under its hooves. He burst out of the trees and saw the masked girl already on her feet. "Run!" he shouted. "Big thing, run — " She moved before he finished. She caught his outstretched wrist, pivoted under his arm, and flipped him. His back hit the sand hard. The air left him. She stood over him with one boot near his throat. "Not me," he wheezed. He pointed past her. She turned. The beast was already through the trees. She pulled him up. They ran. Twenty steps in, Draxin stopped, spun, and charged the bull. He drove his shoulder into its neck. It hooked him with a horn and threw him. He hit the sand again, rolled, got up, hit it with his fist. It swung its head and caught him in the ribs. He went down hard and couldn't get his arm under him. The beast lowered its horns over him. The girl's boot slammed into the side of its skull. To be continued…