“Wait. What?” I ask, incredulity rising as my heart skips a beat.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Sandra says, now bouncing out of bed like she’s late for a flight. She rushes over to the stone basin. “I’m roasting,” she complains for the millionth time, dunking her head under the cool waters with a moan of relief.
Oh, she definitely forgot to mention that little detail between all her crying.
“Listen, Sandra, ‘we’ and ‘farmer guy’ don’t go together. I’d rather go back to that awful training room,” I snap, glaring at her back.
“Ack, it’ll be fun! Something different! Plus, it’ll get us out of this volcano,” Sandra replies, scrubbing her face and hair so vigorously it looks like she’s trying to tear them off. Honestly, terrible for her skin.
“I like this volcano...” I mutter, speaking before thinking. “Ugh, whatever. Is this farmer guy at least hot?” I ask, while a delightful image of a muscular, rough, and ready Klendathian with a cowboy hat and a cheeky smile forms in my mind.
“Umm...” Sandra turns with a sly smile and a laughably steamy ginger head. “Yeah...” Her gaze drops. “Oh, yeah, he’s gorgeous, Lexie. Totally your type.”
The image in my mind solidifies with crystal-clear clarity.
“Come on then, hurry up! Let’s meet this hunk!” I almost shout, giddy with excitement.Wait...Sandra doesn’t know my type. Hell, I’m not even sure what my type is anymore. My grin morphs into a narrowed-eyed suspicious glare directed at Sandra. She only smiles while dressing, looking as innocent as a new credit card.
Once Sandra is dressed, we head through the rocky tunnels, navigating the hazy steam with ease. We make good time, walking with confidence, the route now familiar to us. Some aliens pass us, offering polite nods and greetings of respect. What they make of us being here, or this bizarre arrangement, I can only guess.
From what I’ve seen, we’re the only females around, which gave us the heebie-jeebies at first. It felt like being the only two women in a singles bar full of roided-up space jocks. But I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Despite towering over us, they greet us with smiles, offer treats, and even guidance. The only downside? They’re all old and terribly maimed or disfigured. I let out a sigh, shaking my head. You can’t have it all, I guess.
The tunnel leads upward, and soon the howling wind from the entrance echoes through the passage. I already miss the sizzlingheat from the lava rivers below and instinctively pull my furs tighter. Sandra, in contrast, lets out a relieved sigh, savoring the cooler air with each step. Streaks of daylight pierce through the rock, illuminating the area in purple hues.
Two massive Klendathian’s stand guard like ash-covered statues, equipped in thick metal armor. Above us, fierce alien faces are carved into the black granite, glaring down as if challenging any who dare enter.
This must be where Dracoth learned his permanent scowl.
The guards give us the faintest of nods as we pass. Ash drifts from their long gray hair, which reminds me to nudge Sandra. But she’s already wrapping her face with a strip of leather like how I would use a scarf on a ski trip. I don’t mind the ash, though, finding it pretty, like goth-inspired leaves fluttering through the air, carrying a salty-charred taste that puts pleasant heat into my lungs.
We continue onward, our eyes scanning the narrowing entrance, marveling at the monstrous craggy teeth that line either side, floor, and ceiling. It’s like we’re exiting the gaping maw of some ancient stone dragon. The wind picks up, swirling my long blonde hair as we finally step out of the jaws, leaving the shadow of the mountain behind.
I shield my eyes against the shifting ash and embers, struggling to make out the landscape ahead. I see endless black-gray crags, towering mountains, and even volcanoes spewing molten lava and billowing clouds of smoke into the atmosphere.
“Um,” I shout over the howling wind. “I don’t see any farms, Sandra!” I ask, already feeling my stomach sinking with worry. “Unless they’re farming lung cancer.”
“He said it’s behind the first ridge,” Sandra replies, her voice muffled beneath her scarf. “Must be that one,” she suggests, pointing toward a nearby rocky hill.
“Uh-huh,” I grimace, following her gaze. “Did Farmer Joe also promise free candy from his beat-up van?” I mock, already questioning what kind of craziness Sandra has dragged me into. I glance back at the volcanic mountain looming behind us, longing to be back in its warmth, away from this desolate, ash-covered wasteland.
“It’s not like that,” Sandra chuckles, waving me forward. “This guy’s trustworthy. Sure, all the Klendathians have been really kind.” Richcoming from the woman who’s in love with the giant murder bore who chained us up!But still, I follow, because sticking together feels like the only sane option, even if my gut says otherwise.
I feel tiny and insignificant, like we’re walking on some blackened version of the moon. It’s barren, with no sign of life anywhere—just endless cliffs and towering mountains. Even the massive purple Klendathor sun and moon struggle to penetrate the thick clouds and fog that hang around us like a damp, suffocating blanket.
Far in the distance, an enormous mountain vanishes into the heavens above like something from biblical times. The peak erupts with streaks of violet lightning that illuminate the smog and shake the ground with booming thunder.
“Farmer Joe better be loaded and have an eight-pack, or I swear, Sandra.” My frustration is simmering, ready to blow like one of the volcanoes smoldering on the horizon.
Sandra barks a brief, nervous laugh, her gaze dropping, and I smell a little ginger rat. There’s no stud. I’ve been had. Manipulated and taken advantage of as usual.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sandra!” I yell, my voice cutting through the howling wind. “You’ve dragged me out to this fucking wasteland for nothing!”
Sandra just laughs, which infuriates me more, stoking the blood-boiling rage that flows in my veins, ready to erupt.
“What’s so funny?” I snap, glaring at her.
“Nothing, you’re just funny,” she retorts, still struggling to contain her laughter. But I’m not seeing the humor—quite the reverse, in fact.
“I’m sorry, okay?” she says, her voice softening. “I just... wanted company. And I knew you wouldn’t come if I didn’t make it sound like fun.”
