He lifted his head, his eyes blinked a few times, then he sat up.
“Jade?” he answered, his voice a croak.
“Oh, Mason! I’ve found you.” She crouched down and tried to reach out to him with her hand. “Can you get it?”
He rose to his feet and stretched out to touch her, but the distance was too great.
She turned to the natives. “Please. Help.”
One of the men cut down a vine and tied it to the base of the tree, then threw the end down into the pit.
Jade waited to see if Mason had the strength to haul himself out. The other men helped, pulling on the rope as he clambered up the sides. Just as he reached the top, the sides of the pit disintegrated, sending dirt flying. From out of the bloom of dust emerged Mason to stand on firm ground.
She ran into his arms and he held her tight, breathing heavily with rasping breaths.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she wept, burrowing her nose into his vest, not caring about anything. She succeeded in her mission—she’d found Mason and he was alive.
He brushed aside her hair and tilted her head back. She hoped for a kiss, but his lips were cracked.
“Water,” Mason whispered.
/> He drank a whole bottle before he spoke again. “How?” he croaked. “How did you get here?”
“Callo’s ship. I fixed a few problems with the stabilizer and landed near the village. They helped me.” She nodded in the direction of the three men, who waited in the shadows of the trees, still nervous about Mason, who easily towered over their slight, athletic forms.
Jade’s stomach churned with both delight at finding her lover and trepidation at his response to her disobedience. He continued to regain his composure, gradually stretching out his hunched form, although the dirt clung to his skin and clothes. She handed him the communicator, which he examined, noting the numerous messages of concern she’d sent over the previous day.
“I dropped it when I fell in the trap,” he explained, his gruff voice losing its dryness.
“I couldn’t leave you here,” she said, opting for the simplest explanation.
“So I see,” he noted wryly, then pulled a face, letting his displeasure seep out. “Now isn’t the time to discuss it.” He brushed down his clothes before inspecting the contents of the bag she’d brought. He nodded at her choice of weapons, then packed them away again.
He cocked his head at the natives. “You don’t speak their language, so how—”
“No, but I can draw in the dirt.” She gave a little shrug.
Mason frowned. “They ran away from me.”
“I got lucky,” she added, trying to play down her success.
“Lucky, yes,” he said with brevity. He had shadows etched under his eyes. He needed proper sleep and food.
“They know about Krul. They don’t like him either.” She told him about the drawing and how they’d scrubbed it out.
“Where is he?” Mason asked.
“Somewhere near here.”
“The river is close.”
The water churned and the air did seem slightly cooler, helped by a gentle breeze.
“Yes,” she agreed. “You need to rest. Sir,” she added. She had to prove to him that she was still his to command.
He scratched the deep stubble on his chin. “The bounty hunters?”
“I don’t know.” She hadn’t attempted to draw them in the dirt. “If they’ve not been here, then perhaps they haven’t found Krul either.”