Parched by Melanie Crowder Read Free Book Online Page B

picked up a mangosteen and placed it in his mouth. He chewed and tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry and instead he sputtered, choking. Sarel exhaled in a sharp burst and pulled him upright until he was hunched over, spitting the seed into his palm. The dog was on her feet now, nosing her blunt head under Musa’s chin and licking the juice from his jaw.
    Musa stared at the massive head in front of him. “I’ve never seen a dog friendly like this—somebody’s pet. In the city, dogs are wild. They’re mean.”
    â€œIt’s people that make dogs mean,” Sarel said in a clipped voice. “And they’re not my pets.”
    Musa tried another bite. He swallowed, this time without choking.
    Sarel tied off the vines that held the fresh bits of aloe in place around his ankles and moved up to his wrists. She peeled back the yellowed strips one by one.
    Musa didn’t ask any more questions. As soon as Sarel finished the last knot, she backed away from him. She slung the empty satchel over her shoulder and hurried out of the kennel, as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
    The dogs shook as they stood, whipping a spray of dust into the air and trotting after her. Sarel hadn’t gone a dozen steps when the big one with the watching eyes rubbed up against her, shoving her snout under the girl’s hand. The tension in Sarel’s shoulders slackened and her body settled into a shuffling rhythm as they set out again into the desert.
    Musa rolled onto his side and folded his knees into his chest. She was the one acting like a mean city dog—scared and bone-thin and ready to bite. So why was she helping him?
    It didn’t matter. He had made it. He could feel the water, a constant thrum at the base of his skull. Underground, just south of where he lay, wide around as a lake.
    In the morning, when he was feeling stronger, Musa would find a new pair of dowsing sticks and mark out the edges—see if he could find a place where the water came aboveground.
    If it ever did.
    But he couldn’t let
her
see. If Sarel found out what he could do, she might betray him, like Dingane. Or use him. Hurt him, like Sivo.
    No, he wouldn’t tell her anything. He would have to find the water without her watching. No one would have that kind of power over him again.

24
Sarel
    Everything Sarel owned was spread out on the mat in front of her. A bone-handled knife, a square of leath-er pierced with a dozen sweet thorn needles, a long-stemmed ladle, and a blunt shovel blade with a branch lashed to the place where a handle should have been.
    Three deflated water bladders were stacked in her lap. Sarel nodded as she counted, her forehead pinched in concentration. Six more lined the fence, belled out with all the water she could scrape from the grotto pool. There was enough left in the gaps between stones to last the pack the few days more she’d need to find fruit and nuts to equal the water. It took twice as long, gathering food for Musa, too. But she was almost ready.
    She rolled up to her feet and paced the length of the kennel, stepping over the sprawled dogs in her way. Musa was sleeping in the corner, an arm draped over Chakide’s ribs. They had to go, whether he had recovered enough to travel or not. Sarel swatted through a cloud of gnats, slapping at the air long after the swarm had gone.
    Back and forth she paced, back and forth.
    And then she stopped and swiveled, peering across the homestead to the curve of stones that marked the grotto entrance.
    They had to go. But she would take something from this place with her.
    Sarel swiped the knife off her mat and shuffled down the grotto path. She checked over her shoulder, to make sure no one was watching, and ducked down the curving stairs. Her eyes went straight to the spout and the ring of burnished stones that surrounded it.
    Sarel unfolded her knife and dug at the mortar around a white stone with a black vein