The other trees varied among more middling heights. Some were not unlike the tall, twisting ones, but with smaller, hand-shaped leaves of a more subdued red. Some had navy blue leaves that hung down like limp rags, fluttering softly in the wind, another had mustard-colored leaves, shaped like open clamshells.
Pale gray lichen hung from branches overhead, thin and delicate as moldered lace. Acid-pink carpets of frizzy moss grew thick on old rotted trees, along with blue and orange fungi. Thin, whippy seedlings grew in the spaces where sunlight pierced down through the canopy with leaves of salmon and amber and turquoise.
The ground in between it all grew thick with scrubby, cobalt gorse; thickets of thorny, red-skinned twigs; and the occasional stand of pale yellow canes that rattled against each other like old bones.
Where nothing grew, striated black rock thrust from the earth in jagged formations. Running the length of their journey, a wicked escarpment of black rock overlooked a steep ravine that gouged through the planet all the way to the furthest horizon.
Lyra trailed clumsily behind Asier, stumbling over the uneven ground and bumping into him again and again. She tripped over papery white roots and marbled black stones. Even when the ground was level and clear, she swayed with exhaustion.
“You need sleep,” Asier observed.
The sound of his voice startled her. Neither of them had spoken for more than an hour.
“Later. Let’s just get to your ship.” With a concerted effort, she straightened her shoulders, blinked her eyes wide and alert.
“Humans sleep very frequently,” Asier said. “Since being captured, have you slept?”
No. “I won’t be able to, Asier. This planet isn’t safe. My instinct for survival won’t allow my brain to go into a sleep cycle.”
“I will carry you.”
Lyra’s eyes widened. Her entire body flushed. “But—”
“You can trust me.” He reached behind his head, tying the bandana tighter.
Suddenly, she was not tired at all. And she wanted nothing more than to be taken into his arms. “I trust you. But I won’t be able to sleep like that.”
He scowled down at her until her meaning sank in. His expression softened as his eyes sharpened, pupils dilating. His gaze pinned her in place. Her skin prickled with heat. She could close the distance between them with one step.
“Tell me about the spiders again,” Lyra said breathlessly.
Around them, trees creaked. Leaves rustled. Dappled sunlight shifted over the ground.
“They can leap as high as you are tall,” Asier answered, his voice even deeper, more rumbling than usual.
She nodded. Cold fear ate at the hot desire. “What else?”
“They secrete a corrosive digestive fluid. They don’t chew their prey. They dissolve them.”
“What an unpleasant way to die,” Lyra said lightly. She shivered, unsure whether it came from fear or from desire. Either way she suddenly had the wherewithal to start walking again.
Asier fell into step beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, burning hot, but she didn’t dare look over at him. After a moment, she sensed him look away from her.
“You could sleep on the ground. I would keep watch.”
She shook her head. “We’ll lose time.”
“You’ll lose your life if you are too exhausted to think and react.”
Lyra opened her mouth to argue that she could think and react just fine, thank you, when she stepped onto a soft patch of soil. Her foot plunged through it, and she sank up to her knee. The soil churned, and she felt something clamp onto her leg—something large and strong, and piercing sharp.
She screamed as it yanked her down. Her leg plunged into the ground, up to her hip. The painful bite crawled up her flesh, piercing, constricting.
Asier’s arms were around her in an instant. He wrenched her from the ground, pulling her leg free with a spray of soil. A grub-white, slime-coated, segmented worm, as thick as Lyra’s bicep, was wrapped around her leg. Bristling black setae stabbed through the armored fibers of her flight suit, piercing her skin.
Most of the monster’s body remained below ground. Movement pulsed down its segments as it fought to drag her under.
Asier held fast to her with one arm, growling in his own language as he searched frantically in his jacket with his free hand. Lyra screamed again, using her free leg to kick and kick and kick—driving her heel into its translucent, throbbing body until the slimy, thin skin broke and green viscera spilled out.
The massive worm slackened, and Asier ripped her out of its grasp. The two of them flew backwards, landing in a heap.
Twitching and pulsing, the pallid monster retreated back into the earth.
Lyra couldn’t stop screaming. She was hurting her own ears, and abrading her throat, but it was the only thing she could do.
A massive steely hand descended over her mouth, silencing her. Beneath the ringing in her ears, she could hear Asier snarling incomprehensibly. She didn’t have to speak the Scaeven language to recognize some colorful swearing.
Her chest heaved as she sucked big draughts of air through her nose. She twisted her face away from Asier’s hand, gasping when her mouth was free.
“If you think I’m going to sleep now,” she wheezed, “you are completely cracked.”
Asier said nothing.
She realized she was pressed against his chest, sprawled between his thighs. His big, hard body was warm behind her. His arousal was an intimidating pressure against her back. She sat up abruptly and rolled away from him.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, still lost for breath.
Asier took a second to reply. “Your leg,” he said finally.
She looked down. The right leg of her flight suit was shredded where the worm had wrapped around her. Tufts of armored fiber fringed bare swaths of blood-smeared skin. Dozens of the worm’s barbed setae were still embedded in her flesh. The pain hit very suddenly, and her leg buckled beneath her.
Asier surged to his feet, rushing to her. He caught her arms and hauled her upright.
“I’m taking you to rocky ground,” he said. He scooped her into his arms, carrying her as easily as if she were a child. The pain in her leg was an unbearable fire. Embarrassing tears filled her eyes.
Asier found an upthrust table of the black, basaltic rock and laid her down gently. She whimpered.
He pulled a knife from his jacket. “I’ll have to cut the trouser leg away,” he said.
She nodded, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.
Starting at her ankle, he slid the knife up the armored fabric. It cut through like butter. Even through the pain, Lyra was astonished. That was some knife. She’d seen armored flight suits deflect everything from laser fire to ballpoint pens.
Asier flipped the fabric aside and leaned in close to examine her leg. Black setae—as hard as horn, as long as her pinky finger, and just as thick—had broken off of the worm’s body, and protruded from her skin.
Working as delicately as he could with his massive hands, Asier began plucking them out. Each one ripped away with a pain like a hot knife stabbing in and out of her leg. With each one, she whimpered. The pain was getting worse. Her breath came in shuddering sobs and she curled in on herself.
It was too much to take. The horrible burning agony was consuming her flesh, dissolving her bones. It radiated from her leg and into her mind until all she could think, and feel, and be was pain. Unbearable, excruciating pain. Blackness edged the periphery of her vision. It ate inwards, faster and faster.