Chapter Six - Thirst
After a few minutes in the sunlight, Sunset felt a bit better. Not by much, but enough that the cold, clammy chill of fear was no longer crawling down her back every time she thought of the creature whose remains she’d found smashed beneath the shelving in the food barn.
This, she thought, turning and looking up at the big sign over the place. Was a bust. Another faint shiver rolled down her arms as she thought of the creature’s claws, and worse, its weapon. And here I was carrying a knife. The blade glinted in the sun as she held it up, it’s dark surface almost seeming to mock her.
No. She pushed herself away from the carriage she’d been leaning on. It was what I found and what I had. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there. She brought the knife down in a wicked arc, and almost jerked in surprise when the tip embedded itself in the metal door of the carriage, sinking almost a full inch in with a sharp, metal squeal before coming to a stop.
She stared at it with wide eyes. “And that’s why I need a sheath.” Her voice almost seemed to be absorbed by the parking lot, sucked away into the city. She gave the knife a sharp tug and it slipped free with a squeak, leaving a bright mark in the metal of the carriage.
“And why it’s useful.” Though it couldn’t hurt to learn to use one of those other weapons. Maybe. Later. When I have time. Right now—
“I still need water.” That was her first problem. “And shelter.” Food was … pressing, but shelter would matter more if the weather turned on her. And though there was plenty of it around her, it was both abandoned and in questionable repair.
“My mistake was assuming that the Food Barn would have food and water, not thinking that everyone else would have checked that as well.” For all I know they might have taken the food with them when they left. “And what was left might not be good after …” She took another quick look around the lot. “However many years ago this place was abandoned.”
There had been water in that pit she’d circled around. Dirty water, but water nonetheless. “Which means I would want to clean it unless I was really desperate. Which means I would need … Camping equipment.”
She pressed her lower lip out for a moment, running the words through her mind. That would work, wouldn’t it? Camping equipment, from what she could remember from the Guard exercises or the times that Pri—that her teacher had sent her, was usually small and compact. With a heating element of some kind in case you couldn’t start a fire.
“Which I definitely can’t at the moment,” she thought, eyes crossing as she peered at the hornless space in front of her head. “Even if I figure out how magic works here, there’s no telling how it might be different.”
It would be a blow, but if it came to choosing between having some clean water to drink and, well, not having that, all because she didn’t have magic …
I’d rather have the water. So maybe what I need is … whatever sort of store would sell things for camping?
She turned in a circle, looking at the buildings around the giant lot. And … I have no idea what that would look like. And I can’t read any of the signs.
Again she pushed her lower lip out, pouting slightly. This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Some destiny.
Still there was nothing to do for it but … Look around? She turned a slow circle, taking in the buildings around the large and empty food store. They all look like businesses, I guess. Dirty, overgrown ones, but businesses.
“So …” she said aloud. “I guess I’ll start … there?” She looked at the dusty, overgrown storefront to the right of the market and frowned. “Looks big enough.” Whatever it had been, the sign over its door had long been overgrown, and like the rest of the city, the exposed windows were covered in who knew how many years of dusty build-up. More than enough to keep her from simply telling what it was at a glance.
She could feel sweat starting to run down her back and chest, soaking into her heavy clothing. The heat of the sun was mixing with the dust she’d picked up inside the store around the openings in the fabric, and she rubbed at her neck with one hand, grimacing as she felt the grime there. “And I’ve only been here a few hours.”
A shower—or better yet a bath—would feel incredible. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this dirty.
Her frown deepened. “Like I’ve got enough water for that right now.” She would simply have to, as some of the castle staff put it, “deal with it.”
She reached the store, gratefully stepping into what little shade the front provided as she wiped a hand across the glass, making it slightly less murky. Still, it was enough that she could peer through the gloom and make out a little bit of the inside.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t a store that would have what she’d hoped for. It looked more like an office lobby or something. She couldn’t really say for certain. Not without being able to read the faded writing on the wall. But the stuffy, oversized chairs and couches definitely made it look less like a store and more like some other place of business.
And while it was dusty, it did not, she noted, look ruined. She tugged at the handle on the door, not at all surprised when the door simply clicked and refused to move. Locked.
“Still not sure what to make of that …” she muttered as she gave the door a quick push, and then one final tug. It stalled both ways, barely moving. “This place is locked, the Food Barn was locked … Did they think they’d be coming back?”
And if they did think that, why didn’t they?
She shoved the thought aside. “Whatever the reason, that couch looks comfortable. Might be worth coming back if I need someplace to sleep. Unless one of those houses I passed on the way here is fine.”
If she needed it then. She pulled herself away from the glass, back out into the heat of the sun, and moved down the sidewalk toward the next storefront.
It really was a unique-looking city. Just imagining what it would look like unabandoned, or at the very least clean was an exercise, but it kept her mind amused as she passed one storefront, and then another, and then another.
She passed each one by, stopping only to take a drink from her canteen—which was already getting alarmingly low—and to cross the street, making her way down the other side of the square.
That could have been a drink shop. Too bad everything’s dusty. No idea what that one is. Bookstore? She rattled the door twice before moving on, but flagged it in her head. I should come back later! She couldn’t read them yet, but if she found water, food, and shelter, and suddenly had time on her … hands.
I’d need to find something simple and basic, but everypony has to start somewhere. She took another drink from her canteen, and winced at the sloshing sound it made when she lowered it. Almost out.
And she would only need more. All the walking was making her new body sweat all the more, her clothing feeling outright damp in some places. But I don’t want to take any off until I’m sure I know what I’m doing. And what I’m looking at.
No. No. No. She passed several more storefronts. Some were in disarray. Some were damaged.
None had what she was looking for.
Come on … Come on. Just … a filter. A tent! Something!
Unless these people didn’t have tents. Or camping. Then what am I going to do? Die of dehydration? Wait for it to rain? I don’t even—
Her train of thought abruptly stopped as she saw a familiar looking shape through a cracked windowfront, standing near a back wall behind several desks.
“A water cooler!”
Her grasping hands found the door handle and tugged, only to slip free the moment it resisted, answering her attempt with a sharp rattle. Locked. And chained; she could see the thick loops of tarnished metal through the glass of the front door.
But there was water on the other side of that door. She tugged at it again, hard enough that she pulled herself toward the door, boots sliding over the dusty stone with a light rasp.
“Okay, so that’s not going to work.” Didn’t mean it was the end. She could still see the cooler through the dusty windows. “Maybe there’s a second door, or …” She took a few steps back, acutely aware of how thirsty she was getting as she looked at both sides of the building. One was flush with the next building over, but the other was open to an alley … that ended about two feet down in a large, very tall metal fence. A spiked, metal fence, one she had no hope of climbing over even if she felt confident with her new body.
Besides, there was no door down that way that she could see anyway. She swallowed, her throat dry, and brought her gaze back to the front of the storefront. Or business. Or whatever it was. The sign didn’t really offer any clues.
But with the door locked, the front windows were rather large … She glanced down at the knife in her hand. How do I break a window?
She’d done it before once. Or twice. On accident, never on purpose. And with magic, not with her hooves.
But glass was fragile. At least, if struck properly. It was also incredibly sharp. “So,” she said, eyeing one of the large front windows. “If I hit one with the point of the knife …”
She swallowed again. Purposefully breaking a window?
Then again, she was the only sapient being for miles as far as she could tell. And the storefront clearly was abandoned. Oh, and if I don’t get water I’ll likely die. She wasn’t sure how quickly it would happen with her new form, but quickly enough if she was already thirsty and sweating so much.
Ugh. And I need to get clean. And find a safe place to actually look at this body. And … “One thing at a time.”
She moved her back up against the side of the building, checked her grip on the knife, and then plunged it into one of the large glass windows to her right.
It shattered, great chunks breaking free, and she pulled her arm back just as quickly, one of the large shards slipping by and smashing against the sill, breaking into smaller pieces that scattered across the sidewalk.
“Hah!” She stepped away from the wall, looking down at her handiwork as another piece of glass broke free, skipping off the sill and shattering against the pavement. “And it didn’t even—” There was a bright line across the sleeve of her jacket, lighter than the dark brown coloration around it. Not a red line, thankfully, but her eyes slid to the shattered bits of glass where they’d crashed against the sidewalk. It was pretty simple to see from the angle of the line that she hadn’t been as fast as she’d thought.
“Well … Good thing this jacket is so tough.” She wasn’t sure what it was made of, but she wasn’t bleeding.
But she couldn’t get through the window either. Half the glass was missing, but that left half the glass still in the frame. A start, at least.
She balled her hand up, and then on second thought opened it and grasped the end of her jacket sleeve, pulling it back and inside itself so her hands were protected. Then she threw a punch, one of the remaining bits of glass snapping right out of the frame and falling inside the store. She swept her arm back and forth—not without care—breaking more pieces free and prodding with the knife when she needed a bit more force. After half-a-minute’s worth of cascading crashes, the bottom of the sill was clear enough for her to crawl over. As long as I don’t put too much weight on it. In fact, I should probably cover it with something.
But not yet. There were still pieces hanging from the top and sides. And the last thing she wanted to do was have one of them fall while she was clambouring over the sill. She shuddered as she had a sudden mental image of one of the large panes falling and cutting into the back of her neck.
If I had access to my magic right now … She shook her head. Prin— Her teacher hadn’t trained her to give up that easily. Betrayed her and held her back, yes, but not taught her to back down from an obstacle as simple as not knowing how magic worked in her new form.
But I have hands, and there’s plenty of debris around …
It took her a few tries to hit her first bit of glass, chunks of brick and stone landing somewhere inside the building with faint thumps. Throwing, it turned out, was harder than it looked. Even with fingers. Which almost made things more difficult with the way they wanted to cling to whatever she was trying to fling.
Still, her fourth throw was rewarded with a tinkling crash as her chunk of brick smashed through one of the remaining pieces of glass, sending it crashing to the street and down inside the storefront. Two more chunks followed it without her input, smashing against the sill and breaking into hundreds of razor-edged shards.
Maybe … I can get the door open from the inside after I go in. There was a pretty large amount of glass spread across the sidewalk now. I hope these boots are tough. My … ends, whatever they are, feel … squishy.
She took aim and hurled another bit of brick, smiling with dry lips as it smashed through another piece of glass. Not the one she’d been aiming for, but she’d take it. There were only two shards left now.
Make that one, she thought as her next throw struck the frame above the glass but shook a piece free anyway. Thankfully, there was plenty of rock and brick to throw; something had blown a hole in the brickwork in front of a nearby store. What, she didn’t know, but it had been pretty energetic. And one more to go.
Her next throw went wide again—hitting the one she had may have been a fluke, but she blamed her fingers—smacking against the glass of the window next to it and eliciting a sharp crack, a jagged break cutting across it. But it didn’t shatter, the chunk of brick bouncing back to the sidewalk.
Her next throw went wide as well, sailing into the window as the first few she’d thrown had and hitting the floor with a distant thump. As did the one after it, and the one after that. The fourth hit the wall above, not even coming close to the window, and bounced back.
“Ponyfeathers!” Her eyes almost crossed as she tried to look at her own forehead. “Would it have killed this species to have a good horn!?” What good were fingers if they couldn’t do magic? Plus, they were getting filthy.
She hurled another stone upward, only to hear it rattle off of something inside as it flew just past the bit of glass she’d been aiming for. “Come on! Come on!” Another miss.
She scowled. Maybe I should have grabbed one of those weapons I saw. That could have … No. She shook her head. I remember the minotaur said aiming took practice. And he said that it “kicked” when you fired it. Which makes sense. It has to obey the laws of motion, everything does.
“None of that helps you right now, Sunset.” She sighed, then picked up another chunk of brick. “But this could take forever anywa—”
With a tinkle not unlike somepony dropping a fine piece of porcelain her brick clipped the side of the final bit of glass. For a moment the pane seemed to hang there, thin lines spreading across it, and then with a calamitous cacophony of cracks it broke apart, smashing down against the windowsill and splintering across the sidewalk. For a moment silence reigned in the wake of its crash, but then Sunset threw her hands up. “Yes!”
Her cry echoed down the empty streets, but at the moment she didn’t care. She had a way in! To water! She could almost taste it already, her parched throat begging for the cool relief.
Thankfully, after a few careful steps, glass popping beneath her boots, she determined that they were indeed tough enough to withstand the sharp shards scattered across the sidewalk. Nevertheless, she avoided the larger pieces as she walked up to the now gaping window.
There was still glass embedded in the sill, small bits and pieces sparkling in the sunlight. She swept the blade of her knife across the sill, knocking the worst of it away.
But not all of it. Right, so I need some sort of cover. She shucked her backpack from her shoulders, the movement surprisingly easy, and then leaned up against the sill, which came almost up to her shoulder. She lowered the pack over the window, not letting go until she felt the strap go slack, and then, for the first time since she’d come through the portal, slipped her jacket from her shoulders.
It wasn’t too hard. The central zipper on the front was clearly made to be grasped with fingers, and she was able to undo it, which did make the air feel a lot cooler. Maybe I should just leave it off when I’m done. Underneath it she was wearing more clothing: A plain black short-sleeved shirt, somewhat tight and form fitting. The lack of longer sleeves meant she could see the skin tone of her hands as it continued up her arms and likely across her whole body.
And I feel like there’s another layer beneath this shirt around my teats, Sunset thought with a scowl. How much protection do these creatures need?
She laid the coat carefully over the sill, its outer side against the parts that could still have glass, and then with a careful hop and push of her hands, swung her upper body up atop it—only to let out a slight “Eep!” as she almost pitched over the other side to land face-first inside—and atop the glass there.. Only jerking her legs straight out behind her arrested her momentum enough that her weight pitched back, and she landed on her feet outside the window.
“Okay,” she said. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs like a hammer. “New body, different center of balance. Biped center of balance. That’s important.” She placed her hands atop the coat again. “So stop thinking like a pony, and think like a minotaur. If they couldn’t just jump over it, they’d get their hindquarters on it and then … swing their legs over?”
It seemed logical. But then again, so had her first attempt.
Either way, she needed water. Though she was cooler without the jacket on, she was still hot, and her throat felt drier with every passing minute.
If there’s a better way … maybe I’ll figure it out. When I’m not dropping onto glass. Her boots seemed tough enough, but she didn’t want at all to see what the glass would make of whatever ended her legs now. Or her fleshy … What’s the word for them again? Palms?
That sounded right. Maybe. Possibly. She shoved the question from her mind, focusing her gaze back on the windowsill. “All right, Sunset. You’ve just got to get your hindquarters onto that windowsill, then keep your balance while you bring your legs up and over. Easy, right?” She let out a nervous laugh. “And you’re talking to yourself,” she said as she walked up to the sill. A pane of glass crackled under her boot, making her flinch.
“Come on … You’ve got this.” She put her hands atop the jacket, checking the height, then turned, her back to the wall. “You’ve seen a minotaur do this.” Her hands found the sill once more, her new arms craned at an awkward angle behind her back. “They were just … a lot better at it.”
Talking aloud was making the dryness in her mouth all the more noticeable. She licked her lips and pushed.
Her boots rose from the ground, but with a grunt she dropped back a second later. This is harder than it looks. Then again, minotaurs had been fairly … developed, insofar as muscles went. Not that her new form wasn’t but … She pressed again, feeling her jacket slide with her, but again dropped with a grunt.
Okay, think. She let her arms drop. You’re not that weak, right? Maybe?
She looked down at the scattered glass around her boots. Or maybe you’re just not used to your new limbs … like your legs, Sunset! As much of your body as those take up, you’ve got to be able to get some leverage with them.
But … that would require hopping. Into a precarious position she already wasn’t very confident in.
The alternative was looking for water elsewhere. Or hoping for rain, since there didn’t appear to be any weather crews around. Nor many clouds, for that matter. Rain was … not a great bet.
And I don’t have anything to collect it with anyway, she thought, putting her back against the wall and craning her arms back. Which means—Deep breaths—that I just need to—
She pushed up, arms and legs working in concert, only to let out a short shriek of surprise as the wall behind her seemed to vanish, her body moving far quicker and more forcefully than she’d intended. By reflex she snapped her legs out again … and then she was balancing atop her jacket, eyes wide and arms outstretched as she teetered back and forth.
“Okay …” she managed to whisper. “So far … so good.” It felt like the most errant breeze would be enough to send her tipping one way or another. How do beings live like this!?
She kept her head as still as possible, eyes looking down as she began to slowly, carefully, move her arms down to the sill. The motion began to send her tilting backward, and she felt her abdominals contract, pulling her upper body up and bringing her back into balance.
Then her hands met the sill, and she sagged forward, legs resting against the wall. I did it! Sort of. More than likely the reflexive movement had been helped by the more instinctive bits of Starswirl’s spell. Because that definitely wasn’t all me. Not yet. This body is still too new.
She was atop the sill now, and that was what mattered. Carefully, ever mindful of the jacket she was sitting on, she pushed back, then brought one leg up and over the bottom of the window. There was a brief moment where the jacket slipped slightly, and she froze … But then her boot touched down on the glass-covered carpet inside the office, stability and solidarity returning.
Inside. She was inside. She leaned forward, swung her second leg in, and stood, glass crunching beneath her boots, even on the carpet.
And there, not two-dozen feet away, was the water cooler, up against the back wall but clearly visible in the dark light. She could taste it already, and she started across the lobby, not even bothering to reclaim her jacket.
Only to slow as she neared the cooler and got a better look at it, the flare of excitement in her chest whimpering and dying like a flame before a stiff breeze.
The water was … polluted. Green algae wreathed the water’s surface inside the container, feelers extending down toward the bottom of the jug and clouding the glass. Her eyes darted to the spout, only to see the dried remains of a tiny bed of moss that had grown beneath it and then, sometime later, died.
She couldn’t drink water with algae in it. Not without purifying it. She’d broken the window, clamoured over the windowsill, and for what?
Nothing, she thought, dropping onto a dirty couch with a dusty whump. The clouds rose about her, adding more dirt to her already filthy frame, but she didn’t care.
Maybe I could make a filter? She shook her head. No, who knows what’s gotten into that water. If there’s algae in it, there could be all sorts of other things, like diseases I’ve never been exposed to. It could kill me. “Augh!” She brought a fist down on the arm of the couch, kicking up more dust. If only it had been—
She paused. Sealed. These are sealed, right? Like canned food. And a business like this wouldn’t just have one. They’d have spares, wouldn’t they?
She pushed herself up, turning quickly as she looked around the lobby. So if so, where would they keep them?
She checked the lobby desks first, not finding anything but not too surprised by it. A flash of metal did catch her eyes however—a ring of keys. If one of them can unlock the front door, getting out will be easier than getting in. She checked the other, smaller desks next, but again, no luck.
Still, they hadn’t been the most likely place to store water. There had been a similar cooler in a few of the break rooms in the palace, and the water had always been kept nearby but out of sight. Like in a janitorial closet, or a broom closet. And though the lobby was dim, she could still see several doors against the back wall.
Naturally, they were locked, forcing her to flip through the keys one by one until she found one that worked. Handling things with her, well, hands, was getting easier and easier.
It still felt a little strange to be poking things with fingers and not a hoof. Or her magic. Still, as the lock let out a click, the first door opening, she had to admit they did seem to work rather well
And behind the first door was … An office?
At least it was a nice office. What bits of it she could see from the light coming in the doorway at least. And what made it through the completely overgrown rear windows. There was a large, almost massive desk with a few papers scattered across it, and a large, boxy device of some kind.
But no water. Nothing that looked remotely helpful. She closed it and moved on.
The next door wasn’t even locked, and was darker still than the office had been. Still, there was enough light for her to identify what was clearly a toilet of some kind, and a sink …
Well, one positive about not having enough water, she thought. I haven’t yet had to figure out how this new body relieves itself yet. Though the toilet looked fairly familiar, if not identical. Which probably meant—Think about it later.
She shut the door. But not without noticing the rolls of paper in a dispenser next to the toilet. That was familiar, if considered a frivolous expenditure even among the nobility.
And this doesn’t look like a noble’s office, she thought, glancing back at the rest of the lobby. It’s nice, but not that nice. Which meant … I should probably take one of those rolls before I go. Just in case.
She shoved down the mild feeling of discomfort as she moved to the next door. It was easy to do. It just needed to be buried next to her thirst, her unease at walking on two legs, and just about everything else she was trying to ignore, like leaving Prin—
Nope.
She cycled through the keys until she found one that fit the lock. The door opened with a faint squeak of old hinges, light spilling across … A supply closet. Nothing but a closet of shelving full of dried and dusty papers, notepads, what looked like writing utensils of some kind, paperclips, folders, and other items she couldn’t identify.
But no water. Not that she could see, anyway. And the door, annoyingly, was one of those ones that tried to close the moment you let go. She shoved it open a little wider, then reached for the writing utensils.
Strange … There’s no ink. She held one of them up. It looked like a fountain pen … save that it had an empty hole where the nub would have been.
Still, it was clearly a writing utensil of some kind, and there were a lot of them. She took several and tossed them on the floor behind her. Maybe later she could figure out how they worked.
If she didn’t die of thirst first. She stepped back, taking in the whole closet once more and frowning. But no, there was—
Wait.
The bottom of the closet was a cupboard. Or a smaller closet, inside a closet. Small doors, with handles, but … Just the height of the container on the top of the cooler.
Please, she thought, shoving the door back and then blocking it with her boot. Just please. The small metal handle was warm under her touch. Please please please …
She pulled it open, and let out a faint squeak.
Water, glorious water, sparkled under the light she’d just exposed it to. No fewer than four of the containers that sat inside the cabinet, and each one was as pure and clear as the last.
“Thank the Creator.” The words slipped free without a thought as she dropped down on the dusty carpet, staring at the bounty of water in front of her. At the moment, it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Carefully, one boot still holding the door back, she reached out and placed her hands against one of the containers. To her surprise, it didn’t feel like glass, but plastic. Strange. But as long as it was drinkable, that was all that mattered.
She wrapped her hands around it and tugged it out of the cabinet. It let out a faint, heavy thrum as it dropped to the floor. At the top of the narrow neck was more plastic and a small, thin tab that flexed when she prodded it with her finger.
Sealed. But that was what she had her knife for. The knife which was ...
Outside.
Still, she had a solution to that, too. Or a potential one, anyway, if the keys she’d left in the closet door were any good.
But first … She pulled out the second container—Jug?—of water and set it on the floor beside the first, before grinning and shoving it over to hold the door back once her boot was gone. The third dropped out of the cupboard with a heavy thrum like its sisters, followed by the fourth.
Then the cupboard was empty. Still it was far more water than she’d expected to find when she’d broken through the window. And she couldn’t wait to parch her throat with it.
I’ll need a tube of some kind, she thought as she left her bounty behind, heading for the front door. Set up a siphon so I spill as little as possible. And something to cover the hole I make after I’m done so that it doesn’t evaporate. Tape! There was tape in that closet! It would still work, right?
Would tape have chemicals in it she shouldn’t drink? I can improvise something.
The front lock resisted her efforts at first, as well as a few of the keys on the ring, but once she realized that the larger key near the end fit, the mechanism opened with a loud, grinding rasp. Much like the door, once she shoved it open.
How long has everything been left on its own? She collected her pack as well as her jacket, eyeing the open wound she’d left in the building’s exterior as she did so. She checked the jacket for shards of glass, brushed some dust from it, and then threw it atop her pack. The shirt she was wearing wasn’t exactly cool, but it wasn’t nearly as warm as the jacket had been. And even if she’d found water now, there was no sense in making herself sweat more and wasting it.
Think ahead. She moved back into the office, shutting the door behind her with another metal squeak and eyeing her knife. You don’t have anything to make a siphon with, unless you can find a length of hose here or a small bit of piping, but this doesn’t seem like the right place for it.
Food she was good with for at least another day or two. Shelter … well, as long as she was willing to break into someplace, she could manage for shelter. Assuming she didn’t mind a lot of dust. Or that a building didn’t fall down around her.
Which means food is indeed my next concern, she thought, dropping to her hindquarters in front of the jugs and using her knife to peel away the thin plastic around the neck. So close to her goal now, her throat felt drier than ever. I can stretch it out to two days if I have to, but I probably shouldn’t. Not with all the walking she was doing already. And while she didn’t feel hungry yet … Once I get some water in me, I might.
She could smell the subtle change in the air as the seal broke with a faint pop. Or at least, she thought so.
It didn’t matter, though, because she could see the faint, watery sheen of the surface just beneath it. Water. Plenty of it. How much she had no way of knowing, again not without references that fit her new body. But water all the same.
Okay, she thought, dropping the knife and pulling out her empty canteen. If I just pour this carefully …
Water sloshed over the side of her canteen, soaking the carpet, and she bit back a curse. More soaked her hands. But … most of it was getting into the canteen. And I have a lot of it, she thought as she tilted the jug up slightly. At which point water began running down the side of the jug, even when she placed the canteen right up against the neck. And now that I know what to look for, I might be able to find more.
The canteen was half full. Good enough. She let the jug fall back upright, not even waiting to see if it would tip the other way. The only thing that mattered was the water she was tipping toward her face.
Bliss. Pure bliss. Even the fact that the water was warm, almost hot, didn’t matter. It was wet, and her throat and lips had been dry.
Only when the canteen was empty did she come up for a breath, letting out a satisfied sigh and dropping the empty container to the carpet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so thirsty.
Moving a bit more carefully, she filled the canteen halfway once more, this time paying more attention and spilling a little less. Her reward wasn’t quite as refreshing as the first had been, but it was certainly still appealing. Only after it was empty as well, her stomach sloshing slightly, did she lean back on her arms and look at her find.
I have water. Lots of it. Enough to last her days. No, maybe even a week.
Pure, clean, water.
With a sigh, she sank back even further, staring up at the lobby’s high ceiling. There was still a lot to do. I need food. Shelter. And something to learn the language with. And figure out where everyone went. What that … thing … in the food mart was. What kind of war they fought here.
And find my destiny. She smiled and took another sip of from her first victory. One hoofstep at a time.