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I rolled over and got more comfortable.
That would last for a few minutes before I once again felt that lump digging into my back.
When I blinked and opened my eyes, I stretched and peered up at the night sky.
The stars were completely different from what I was used to.
But right then, that wasn’t what took me most by surprise.
It was the fact they were moving.
Of course, that was impossible—at least, not at the speed I was watching them move now.
Another sliver of sand slipped down the back of my shirt, causing me to shiver.
Then I realized.
The stars and the sky weren’t moving.
I was.
But how could that be?
I reached down to Egara’s arm wrapped around my waist.
My hand came in contact with something cold and slimy.
It wasn’t Egara.
My groggy eyes burst open, suddenly wide awake.
I peered down at that strong arm wrapped around my waist.
It was green.
And there were no fingers on the end of the long arm, no knob of wrist muscles.
In fact, no muscles at all.
Even if I thought it was his arms clasped tightly around me, I knew it couldn’t be Egara.
I couldn’t feel his muscular chest pressing comfortingly against me.
I couldn’t feel his powerful heartbeat pulsing.
Or the warm sensation of his breaths pressing against my neck and the occasional kiss of his lips while he dreamed.
Then there was that mysterious sand sliding under my shirt and out the other end.
And then, of course, there was the smell.
The rancid stench of rotting eggs hit me full-bore.
The thing wrapped around me wasn’t Egara’s arm.
But it was an arm.
It trailed like a thick rope across the desert floor behind me, pulling me up an incline.
