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I spent half the summer loving this flavor. There’s something distinct about it, rich and sweet without being overwhelming. It’s almost like fine wine or chocolate, and it cleans the foul taste from my mouth.
And I realize any healing properties it has won’t magically save me, but right now I need all the help I can get.
A little glucose to keep my brain working, plus whatever enzymes are in this stuff.
Iwillsurvive.
My hands are greedy as my nausea lifts and the hunger hits again. I break off large bits of honeycomb and cram them in mymouth. Soon, I go full hangry Pooh Bear, wiping honey off my chin and licking it off the back of my hand.
No, I’m not pretty right now.
I’m determined.
Luck hasn’t been on my side lately, but this tastes a little like destiny.
I’m feeling more lucid by the minute as my body pumps glucose into my blood, more aware of my surroundings than I have been since yesterday, even as the night gets denser and the woods turn eerie.
A soft summer breeze blows through the trees. Aside from the creaking branches, it helps everything feel a little less stifling.
I should keep moving with the wind literally at my back.
“Don’t give up. Not now. Not ever,” I whisper.
Though maybe I should rest just a few more seconds to keep up my strength.
Also, now that I’m fed, I’m impossibly tired.
We’re talking bone-deep exhaustion that could send me smacking into a tree. I’m not sure I’d even notice.
I slouch down against another huge tree trunk, my feet screaming at me.
Okay, okay. Just a minute or two, then we’re moving again.
Colt would love this cool secret nest.
Archer would shake his head and warn me how dangerous it is.
The thought drops in my head like a pebble on a lake. Every time I imagine Archer and Colt, my heart twists tighter.
If they could see this place, I bet Colt would cook up a whole new biology project. Archer would hold his son back from the bees, and I’d loan Colt a bee suit to keep him safe, and then we’d hang back, holding hands while the teenager explored to his heart’s content.
Oh, that hurts.
There’s no running away from them, is there?
I can’t just zoom in and out of their lives like a lost little bee without expecting to leave a trace.
If Archer was here, you’d ask him to put a new cabin deeper in the woods, and he’d tease you for wanting him to build this deep in the forest just so you could live next to the bees.
Despite everything, a tiny smile curls my lips.
I can just imagine him, all gruff words and shining blue eyes—outwardly grumpy but really just a softie. Indulgent and sweet.
Big daddy perfection to the end.
I miss him.
I miss everything—except for the gigantic tangled mess of my family’s drama.