Be My Second Mate or Die
I muttered to myself, watching every inch of her progress with wide-eyed intensity.
Finally, Ellie’s fingers grazed the stem of the flower. She gave a small, triumphant smile, lifting it from the mud as if it were a delicate treasure. Relief washed over her face as she clutched the flower tightly, her eyes bright with hope.
“We did it!” she called back to me, her smile lighting up the damp, dark swamp. “This will save Tristian!”
I smiled back at her, but the knot of worry in my chest tightened.
“Come back to me, Ellie,” I urged, my voice louder than I intended, “Cross over—slowly.”
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