The morning sun had barely crept over the horizon, its weak light shimmering across the barren expanse of sand and stone. Caleb sat cross-legged on the ground, holding a stiff reed stalk to his shoulder that he'd taken for comfort. He realized that he needed a walking stick immediately after she told him they were traveling immediately. Without it, he would have fallen several times stumbling in the dunes; although he still wished it was a spear. He stared up at the webbed hammock where Ginko lay sprawled, her long legs dangling over the sides. She had constructed it with an almost lazy grace, the silken threads gleaming faintly as they clung effortlessly to the overhang of rock shading them both. Somehow that fragile looking thing was capable of holding up her immense frame.
Her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, the faint hum of her breathing mixing with the wind's low whistle. Even in sleep, she looked composed, her face serene, with the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. Caleb hated that he noticed.
He shifted uncomfortably, wincing as his ribs reminded him of the punishment they'd taken. His stomach and jaw throbbed in dull protest, remnants of the blows Ginko had dealt when she'd taken him. He wasn't sure which ached more--his body or his pride.
Last night's journey had been a blur of exhaustion and silence, an unexpected continuation to a day already filled with endless walking and sun. Ginko had stayed ahead, her lithe form a shadow against the moonlit desert, if she allowed herself to be visible. It was a Herculean effort not to keel over, and Caleb was sure he had never pushed his body like that before. Having done it in solitude only made it worse. Ginko had returned to him occasionally, only to thrust a stolen waterskin into his hands. Each time, her words had been the same: sly, taunting, a reminder that he would surely die in the desert without her. Then she'd take off again, scouting ahead for shelter, counting on the fact that he'd follow in her steps.
"Still alive, are we?" she'd jabbed at him once, her dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Impressive determination for someone who doesn't even know where he's going."
Caleb had scowled at her then, but drank greedily from the water she offered. His pride wouldn't keep him alive, that much was true. But is this what she meant by needing endurance? Was this brutal gauntlet he was being forced through her 'affection'?
Now, in the daylight, with her suspended above him like some bizarre guardian spirit, those words came back to gnaw at him. He didn't know where he was going, and that terrified him more than he cared to admit. She had promised something waiting for him beyond the desert, something good, she'd said, as if that meant anything coming from her. It hadn't even been a full day, but already he felt like he'd been conned.
He wasn't convinced by her promises. Every step forward felt like a mistake, each hour under the watchful moon a reminder of his folly. What had he been thinking, agreeing to follow her? She was a demon; they thrived on tricking mortals, did they not? And yet, here he was, dragged along by her whims, driven by... what? Curiosity? Stubbornness? Something darker he couldn't quite name?
Ginko stirred in her hammock, her legs twitching slightly as she adjusted her position. Caleb watched her, his thoughts dark and tangled. Even now, she seemed entirely at ease, as if nothing in this world posed a threat to her.
She'd offered to build him a hammock, too--one that wouldn't stick to his clothes, she said with that same smug grin. "You don't have to suffer, you know," she'd said, weaving her own with casual ease. "Just say the word."
Caleb had refused, of course, sleeping fitfully on the hard ground instead. Somehow, accepting her help felt like losing. He was strong. Hadn't he proved that to her already? Yet she wouldn't give him back his spear, and the implication there seemed plain to him. It was clear that she didn't view them as equals. This was a master stringing along her newly acquired slave.
He ran a hand over his face, gritty with sand and sweat. The distance between them--physical and otherwise--gnawed at him. What was she playing at? Why wasn't she more forthcoming about their destination? And why, despite everything, did some part of him still want to see it through?
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of salt, or maybe stone heated by the rising sun. Caleb sighed, shifting his grip on his walking stick, staring down at the dwindling foodstuffs Ginko had taken from the caravaners. It'll be hours before nightfall, and this was all he had to occupy himself with. Then after that, another long hike; hours of walking to take them closer to... whatever it was Ginko was keeping from him. He only hoped it was somehow worth the pain. Otherwise, perhaps it was time he thought of an escape plan.
- - - - -
The following night was silent too, although it felt more like a continuation to the longest day in Caleb's life. He could hear the crunch of his unsteady steps over the hardening ground, a sign that desert had begun to shift. The desert steppes were finally giving way to the approaching plains--progress. But the endless monotony only seemed to mock him. His head throbbed, his muscles ached, and every breath felt like it dragged heavily. His exhaustion was suffocating, and despite getting some rest, he felt even worse now than he did last time.
His foot caught on an uneven patch of earth, pitching him forward until he collapsed on his knees. His stick clattered to the ground out of his reach, the shock of the impact reverberating through his already battered body. Caleb stayed there, face almost pressed to the cracked ground as he gripped onto a tuft of dry grass. His mind was a dull storm of bitter thoughts.
Maybe this was it. Maybe it was better to die here, lost in this meaningless place, than continue on a hopeless march. He imagined Ginko far ahead, unaware--or worse, well aware and amused. He could almost hear her laughter ringing faintly in his ears, mocking his foolishness for trusting her. The image burned into his mind: her smiling, smug and victorious in her little prank, while he withered away, alone.
But then her laughter vanished, replaced by a shadow cast across him, long and angular. Caleb blinked, his vision swimming, and looked up.
Ginko stood over him, her chitinous hand extended downward. For the first time since they'd met, there was no smirk, no sly taunt--just a strange, quiet compassion etched across her face.
"You're tougher than most," she said, her voice softer than he'd remembered. "But not invincible. Come on."
Caleb hesitated, shame and pride warring within him. Then, grudgingly, he reached out and took her hand. Her grip was firm but careful as she pulled him upright, steadying him when his legs nearly buckled again.
He opened his mouth to speak--to thank her, to curse her, he wasn't sure--but she didn't give him the chance. "You're not going to make it like this," she said bluntly, turning and kneeling slightly so that her back was to him. "Let me carry you."
"What? No," he protested, but when he heard how ravaged his voice was, it shocked him. He instinctively tried to pull back, but his body betrayed him, wavering on the edge of collapse.
"Stubborn idiot," she muttered, and without another word, her arms wrapped around his legs, hoisting him up.
He struggled weakly, but found himself too drained to fight. He fell into her, using what hand and foot holds he could find to not fall off until he naturally slid down to where she wanted, pressed against her back.
He drifted in and out of consciousness as she carried him, the unusual movements of her arachnid half keeping her gait smooth despite the added burden. At some point, he became dimly aware of the change in the air. The dry, scorching winds had softened, replaced by the faint coolness of shade and dew.
When he woke fully, the sky was faintly lit by the predawn glow. He was still seated against her back, secured by webs that bound his arms around her waist to keep him from slipping.
"Let me down," he grumbled, trying to wriggle free.
"Relax," she said over her shoulder. "We're here."
With a few deft movements, she cut the webs holding him in place, and he stumbled to the ground, barely managing to keep upright. He glared at her but froze when he saw what lay ahead.
A forest loomed in the distance, its twisted, ancient trees blanketed in glistening silk. The remnants of moonlight caught the strands, making the entire grove shimmer like a spectral web. At its heart was a massive tent-like structure, constructed from layers of woven silk, reinforced by a petrified column of wood that was its center. Caleb could see the outlines of provisions stored neatly within: a mismatched pile of barrels, crates, bundles of cloth. They were marked supplies that had gone missing, recently stolen and gathered over time.
