Her head throbbed and her body ached. Exhausted and queasy, she refused to open her eyes. She didn’t want to get up. She wanted to stay in bed, sleep all day. Only she wasn’t in a bed, she thought hazily. She cracked open her lids. “You’re not in Kansas anymore either, Dorothy,” she whispered. She was in the wild. In a tent. In a sleeping bag. Alone. River bolted upright, tamped down a surge of panic. She looked down and noted she was still wearing her bra. Felt inside the cup and, yes, thank God, the map was still hidden there. For a blip of a second she’d worried Spenser had stolen it and run off. Her cheeks flushed with shame. Then again, he was the one who kept harping on his obsession with the lost treasure. She shook off her anxiety, breathed deep. She smelled burning wood and…oatmeal? A campfire. He was out there. Cooking breakfast, watching over her. I won’t abandon you. River sat there for a moment, gathering her thoughts and wits, reflecting on the night before.
