Parched by Melanie Crowder Read Free Book Online Page A

satchel and frowned at the clump of fruit and aloe she had gathered that morning. Food that she had planned to take with her when they left the homestead for good. She spilled it all onto her mat and began cutting the aloe spears into short, juicy strips.
    Fine. She would get the boy healthy.
    But then he was on his own.

23
Musa
    Light lay across Musa’s face in uneven stripes. He could feel it warm on his cheeks and glowing orange against the insides of his eyelids. He lay on his back, on something almost soft, his legs and arms splayed at all angles.
    He blinked. There wasn’t ever any light in his shack, and Sivo never let him just lie around without his hands and feet chained.
    Musa blinked again and rolled his head to the side. His breath caught in his throat with a rasping sound and he coughed, his whole body seizing.
    Lying nose to nose with him was the largest dog Musa had ever seen. She had a black snout and soft wrinkles puckering the space between rich, brown eyes. Her coat was cinnamon-colored, lying like a thick blanket over hard muscles. The hair ran backwards along her spine, all the way up to her neck.
    The dog whipped her tail through the air, and a pink tongue shot out and licked Musa on the nose. He jerked back, his hands flying up to protect his face. The air filled with dust from the dog’s thumping tail, and Musa sneezed.
    He lifted his hands away from his face and stared at his wrists in surprise. Strips of a green plant with a tough outer skin and a gooey underside were wrapped around them. He lifted a wobbling leg into the air and turned it from side to side. His ankles, too.
    Sivo had never bothered to heal the boy’s cuts and sores—as long as Musa could stand and shuffle around with his dowsing sticks, little things like wrists worn raw didn’t matter.
    Musa lowered his leg. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. He was in a large wire cage; there was nothing but dry desert grasses, withered shrubs, and hard dirt beyond. Someone had woven bark through the steel links in the roof, enough to shade a trough for the dogs, the mat he lay on, and another bed of sorts tucked into the opposite corner. A rock held open the chainlink door.
    Musa sank down onto the mat. His arms ached from holding himself up, even for such a short time. The dog crept closer, sniffing at his breath and nudging his fingers.
    The door was open. No one was guarding him, except maybe the dog. But she didn’t seem to want to hurt him. He could leave. He wasn’t a prisoner here.
    Movement outside the kennel caught Musa’s attention. A girl with white-blond hair cut in a jagged line at her chin strode through the yard, a dozen dogs trotting around her. Ruddy skin peeked out of patchwork clothes that hung from her like laundry on a line. She was thin, but she didn’t look weak. Her head swiveled toward Musa, her pale eyes narrowing. Her whole body stiffened and her hands curled into the fur of the dog at her hip.
    The Tandie had said that no one could survive outside the city. But there she was, frowning over Musa, her gaze moving from the dog at his side and back to him again. She shrugged a bulging satchel over her head, knelt beside him, and upended a scattering of fruit onto the ground. Her mouth pulled in a tight line as she sliced through the rind of a thin- skinned mangosteen and pried the halves apart.
    Musa swallowed, saliva trickling into his mouth as he watched her lick a drop of juice off her palm.
    â€œWhy are you helping me?”
    The girl flinched at the sound of his voice. She arranged the fruit on a leaf and slid it over to him, shifting to unwrap the vines that held the aloe in place around his ankles.
    Musa looked away from the angry, glistening flesh underneath.
    â€œWho are you?”
    Her hands stilled. She didn’t look up when she spoke.
    â€œSarel.” She formed the word thickly, as if it were unfamiliar on her tongue. “Eat.”
    Musa