Finding Elora

Chapter 33

ABBY

How long is Mason planning to lay on me and purr?

I stare blankly at the ground, undecided if I should get up and try to push him away or lay here and accept my inevitable death. I'm leaning towards the latter.

I'm cold, wet, and miserable, and death isn't feeling like the worst thing in the world anymore.

"I think she's warm enough, Mace," Kie says.

He's sitting by my feet. I occasionally feel him brush against me as he shifts, but he's been pretty quiet since arriving. He'll mumble something to Mason every once in a while, but I haven't been paying attention.

I don't care much for what he has to say.

This was my second failed attempt to run away, and I know I won't get another.

Even if I find a good opening, I'm too weak and tired to try. I haven't been getting enough food, water, or sleep, and the amount of energy and calories my body has burned trying to keep me warm this evening has pushed me over the edge.

I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically, and I'm tired of trying. I give up.

Let them kill me or give me away to Zaha—I don't care.

"Mace..." Kie sighs.

He told Mason to get off me about ten minutes ago, too, but Mason ignored him then and seems intent to do the same now. He probably thinks his purring is threatening and scary, but I think it makes him sound like a house cat. An oversized, barely trained house cat.

I tap my fingers against the ground, counting the seconds.

I must admit Mason's body heat is warming, and not being rained on is a huge relief, too. The drops are loud as they hit the top of the tarp we're all squeezed under, the noise drowning out my thoughts.

Not that I have many.

I'm doing my best not to think, and so far, I'm doing a pretty stellar job.

Mason kicks up his purring, and I feel him wiggling on top of me a moment later. When he and Kie appeared, the last thing I expected him to do was lay on me, but it's been hours and he's showing no signs of stopping.

I don't understand the purpose.

It's probably a weird shifter trait. Maybe they like to cover their meals with their scent before they eat them. Or he's just doing this to fuck with me. That feels like something Mason would do.

A steady stream of rainwater pours off the corner of the tarp. It lands only a few inches before my face, creating a dirty puddle. I'm sure I'm covered in mud, there's no way I'm not, so I don't mind the slight splashing from the puddle.

Sighing, I stick my pointer finger under the stream of runoff.

The rain is letting up. I can tell by the sound, but I can't see it. It's pitch black at this point, and my flashlight is out of arm's reach. My nut bag is by my knees, also out of reach, but I hope it's still filling.

I'm looking forward to drinking what's collected, and I might cry if either Mason or Kie have knocked it over.

Several minutes pass before I prop myself on my hands and knees and try to sit up. My back presses against Mason's stomach, but he doesn't budge. I still don't understand why he's spent the past several hours laying on me and purring, but it seems he's not done.

I continue trying to push up against him, wanting him off me.

All he does is press down harder, slowly adding his body weight until I collapse beneath him.