Page 80 of Dawn of Hope

This will have to do.

I close the doors of the armory and head to the elevator to let myself down. The tavern hasn’t fully cleared out yet, some of the boys pass me heading toward the armory as I go. I grab a pouch of water and a few pieces of fruit and sling the pouch over my shoulder before heading out again. I let myself down and make my way to the entrance of camp.

Today feels different than any other day. Today feels real, like I am no longer learning and am the one in control of my time here.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers and tropical trees on the other side of the portal.

I step through, feeling determination rushing through my veins.

This is it, Mom. I’m going to find it for you.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Thick, sticky mud covers every inch of my body.

Today feels like a complete waste.

I spent all day trying to extract myself from trap after trap, wasting hours of precious time. Spit out in another part of the island, caught in a net, spun around in the opposite direction. Finally, after spending the last hour slugging through a pit of mud, I decided it was time to head back to camp and regroup tomorrow.

It’s like the island is laughing at me.

Just when I think I’m ready, having a plan and a strategy in place, the island humbles me.

I swipe at my face, pushing off as much of the mud as I can. I can’t wait to get back to camp and rinse this all off. I reach inside my shirt and pull out my map. Despite having my ass absolutely handed to me today, the map is pristine. It must be protected by the magic.

I shove it back into my undergarments and straighten my shirt. It was the best hiding place I could come up with, because I couldn’t risk itfalling out of my pants pocket, or having someone see a corner sticking out after a tiring day of searching.

I can’t figure out why Dane is so against having a map. He says it is because Weston could find us if he has one, but that doesn’t make sense to me. If Weston has been capturing Voyagers for years, everyone that he took knows how to get back to camp. Yet he’s never attacked it, never come after us.

A tiny seed of doubt settles in my mind. Is Dane being honest with me? Is there another reason he is against maps? Or are they truly unnecessary because of the island changing?

I kick as much mud as I can off of my boots before starting the walk back to camp.

I’ve learned so much from being paired with each of the Voyagers, arguably things I couldn’t learn from books. Porter taught me how to climb trees for a higher vantage point, especially the ones with thick sturdy branches that tower high in the sky. Rylan had shown me which foods I can salvage if I am stuck outside of camp at night, and needed to stay until the morning. Many of them had shown me small overnight shacks constructed across the island that could provide shelter. Taril had shown me lots of different poisonous plants that tended to be in the jungle areas, which, despite having the day I had, I did a great job of avoiding.

I never went back to sleep after I started sketching the map last night. I worked until sunrise, documenting everything I could remember. I have a good amount of detail so far, even though it is nothing like the maps I am used to studying with Edmond. Those had taken years to construct, and I don’t have that kind of time, let alone working on it in secret. I don’t pride myself on artistry either. My father had assigned me a drawing tutor who advised the king after years of working with me, that drawing would never be my strong suit, and maybe I should try to master other arts to impress foreign princes.

My skills are enough for this map, though. I don’t need to impressanyone, I just need to be able to get my bearings and take in any clues the landscape might provide.

It didn’t seem like any other Voyagers had a specific strategy for searching, or if they did, they did not share it with me. I don’t function that way. I need to be methodical and purposeful. I decided before heading out today that I was going to work each section, rotating around like a clock, starting with the area closest to camp. Even though I didn’t stray far, so much of my time was taken up by the tricks and I barely even covered any area at all.

So tomorrow will be another day. I hope the island will take pity on me and leave me alone. I can’t help but feel slightly discouraged. I can’t imagine being beaten down like this every day for years on years.

I trudge down the main path back to camp and pull the water skein off of my belt. I wipe the mud off the top and chug some of the cool, fresh water. It doesn’t hit me until now how exhausting this day was, and how much work my body had put into getting free. I pause to clip the skein back on my belt when I hear a rustle in the trees nearby.

Not again.

This is way too familiar, too close to my first day on the island. But I am not day one Lennox.

I keep walking, hoping that I’m wrong and it’s just a scuttle of a small animal in the brush, but the rustling doesn’t go away.

I stop abruptly and listen, trying to determine which direction it is coming from. When I stop, it stops. Goosebumps rise on my arms as I realize that it definitely isn’t an animal. Whoever is out there is stalking me.

The Voyagers all know me, so there is no reason for them to creep in the shadows. The island has never outright attacked us on the main path, which can leave only one thing.

It has to be a Castaway.

I push my legs to carry me faster down the path, without running. I don’t want whoever is following me to suspect I know they are there. Hopefully, it will just seem like I am eager to get back to camp.