“Oof!” Thud.
Gideon paused mid-step and sighed. He turned back to find the man he’d been charged to protect sprawled in the dirt.
Gritting his teeth, Gideon grabbed Zeke by the arm and hauled him up. “Need another break?”
“No, no… Just tripped… I’m fine.” The younger man’s face was red, his breathing labored.
We need help. Because—to put it frankly—the world has gone to crap, and we need a hero to save us. That’s why I went searching for that forgotten island, somewhere between the Old World and the New—Avalon. On this island I would find a mountain, and the king sleeping beneath it.
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In honor of my first Crossing the Line—or equator, as landlubbers call it—I bought a parrot. Scarlet she was, with a tuft of white atop her head, which I smoothed down, saying, “I’ll call you Poll Whitecap,” thinking of the foam-topped waves.
“Can’t believe you paid so much for…
Peter had thought dying would be an awfully big adventure.
But not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one staring it in the eye.
He couldn’t let Jane face death without him, because he couldn’t face life without her.
He watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing labored and ragged.
“So why Tarshish?”
The man’s shoulders tensed, but he continued counting out the coins for my fare. Finally, he shrugged. “I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
“Right.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Tarshish, nice? Either the man was greatly misinformed—no one went to Tarshish on holiday—or…
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