below the surface of the sand. Tara awkwardly cast the rope to the lion. It landed short, disappeared under the surface of the sand. The lion roared in frustration.
With one arm, she tried to keep the knight’s scorching head above the sand. She reeled the rope back in, flung it out again. This time, it slapped down beside the lion.
The lion knew what to do. He grasped the rope in his powerful jaws. Tara tied the other end of the rope under the knight’s arms. He’d half-disappeared in the quicksand, limp as a rag doll dressed in tin cans. She wrapped her hands around his neck, shouted at the lion.
The lion pulled, trotting away with his end of the rope, as effortlessly as if he were tearing a leg from a gazelle. With a sucking sound, Tara and the knight were dragged free of the sand pit, landing in a filthy heap on more solid ground.
Exhausted, Tara lay on her back staring up at the blazing sky. She rubbed sand from her eyes. A shadow fell over her. The lion. He dipped his head and began licking the sand off her face with a tongue as rough as a cheese grater. Her cheek was burned where it had come into contact with the knight’s searing breastplate, but she didn’t want to offend the lion by pushing him away.
“Thank you,” she told the lion. He sat back on his haunches as she sat up, and began batting at the end of the rope.
Tara struggled to get the rope disentangled from the knight. She got it off him, then turned her attention to the golden helmet obscuring his face. The red feathers on the top of the helmet had been destroyed by sand, broken like the plumage of a dead bird.
She pulled the helmet away, as carefully as she might pour the yolk from a cracked egg.
Harry’s battered face was under the helmet. She pressed her hand to his hot cheek. He was unconscious, but she could feel the movement of breath across his cracked lips.
How had this happened to him? What terrible enemy had chewed him up? Her tears sizzled on his breastplate. She bent her head to kiss him. His eyelids fluttered, and his fingers twitched, but he did not come to.
Tara turned to the lion. “I need to take him to water.”
The lion padded over to Harry, nudged him with his nose. He lay down beside the fallen knight. Tara thought she understood. She dragged Harry over the lion’s back. As effortlessly as if he carried a kitten, the lion stood up and began to walk east.
Tara wound her fingers to pick up her skirts to follow.
The lion would lead them to water. She was certain of it.
T ARA WOKE TO FEEL SOMEONE SHAKING HER .
At first, she thought it was the lion, that she’d stumbled somewhere along the journey, and that he was nudging her awake.
But it was Harry.
“Tara, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open to find that Harry had grasped her arms and was shaking the dream out of her head. A twinge of fear flickered through her, seeing the concerned expression on his face. The bedside lamp was on, and Harry’s hair was mussed from sleep.
“I—I’m awake.” She shivered. She was suddenly cold, and when she spoke, her breath made ghosts in the air.
“Are you all right? You were mumbling in your sleep and kicking the covers like they were trying to eat you.” Harry bundled the blankets around her. “You’re freezing.”
“I was dreaming,” she said, allowing Harry to wrap the covers around her and turn out the light. He curled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm.
“You want to tell me about it?”
“I’ve been dreaming about the Tarot,” she said. She felt guilty burdening Harry with these … visions. Especially when she hadn’t fully digested them herself. She sensed that her relationship with the cards was changing, and that it wasn’t just this deck. Something deep inside her was stirring … She could feel it uncoiling like a snake. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
For the moment, Tara allowed herself the luxury of the warmth of Harry’s arms, of
With one arm, she tried to keep the knight’s scorching head above the sand. She reeled the rope back in, flung it out again. This time, it slapped down beside the lion.
The lion knew what to do. He grasped the rope in his powerful jaws. Tara tied the other end of the rope under the knight’s arms. He’d half-disappeared in the quicksand, limp as a rag doll dressed in tin cans. She wrapped her hands around his neck, shouted at the lion.
The lion pulled, trotting away with his end of the rope, as effortlessly as if he were tearing a leg from a gazelle. With a sucking sound, Tara and the knight were dragged free of the sand pit, landing in a filthy heap on more solid ground.
Exhausted, Tara lay on her back staring up at the blazing sky. She rubbed sand from her eyes. A shadow fell over her. The lion. He dipped his head and began licking the sand off her face with a tongue as rough as a cheese grater. Her cheek was burned where it had come into contact with the knight’s searing breastplate, but she didn’t want to offend the lion by pushing him away.
“Thank you,” she told the lion. He sat back on his haunches as she sat up, and began batting at the end of the rope.
Tara struggled to get the rope disentangled from the knight. She got it off him, then turned her attention to the golden helmet obscuring his face. The red feathers on the top of the helmet had been destroyed by sand, broken like the plumage of a dead bird.
She pulled the helmet away, as carefully as she might pour the yolk from a cracked egg.
Harry’s battered face was under the helmet. She pressed her hand to his hot cheek. He was unconscious, but she could feel the movement of breath across his cracked lips.
How had this happened to him? What terrible enemy had chewed him up? Her tears sizzled on his breastplate. She bent her head to kiss him. His eyelids fluttered, and his fingers twitched, but he did not come to.
Tara turned to the lion. “I need to take him to water.”
The lion padded over to Harry, nudged him with his nose. He lay down beside the fallen knight. Tara thought she understood. She dragged Harry over the lion’s back. As effortlessly as if he carried a kitten, the lion stood up and began to walk east.
Tara wound her fingers to pick up her skirts to follow.
The lion would lead them to water. She was certain of it.
T ARA WOKE TO FEEL SOMEONE SHAKING HER .
At first, she thought it was the lion, that she’d stumbled somewhere along the journey, and that he was nudging her awake.
But it was Harry.
“Tara, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open to find that Harry had grasped her arms and was shaking the dream out of her head. A twinge of fear flickered through her, seeing the concerned expression on his face. The bedside lamp was on, and Harry’s hair was mussed from sleep.
“I—I’m awake.” She shivered. She was suddenly cold, and when she spoke, her breath made ghosts in the air.
“Are you all right? You were mumbling in your sleep and kicking the covers like they were trying to eat you.” Harry bundled the blankets around her. “You’re freezing.”
“I was dreaming,” she said, allowing Harry to wrap the covers around her and turn out the light. He curled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm.
“You want to tell me about it?”
“I’ve been dreaming about the Tarot,” she said. She felt guilty burdening Harry with these … visions. Especially when she hadn’t fully digested them herself. She sensed that her relationship with the cards was changing, and that it wasn’t just this deck. Something deep inside her was stirring … She could feel it uncoiling like a snake. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
For the moment, Tara allowed herself the luxury of the warmth of Harry’s arms, of
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