“Breanne,” she whispered. Her sister continued to snore. “Breanne,” Mackenzie said a little louder, rising on one elbow to shake her sister’s shoulder. “What?” Breanne mumbled. “Ouch—stop it!” “Are you all right? Breanne, talk to me!” Breanne turned her head and half opened one eye. “Is room service here yet?” “How can you be so calm?” Mackenzie asked, her voice rising. “This isn’t a hotel! We’re trapped here! And we almost drank from that cup last night!” “You’re getting hysterical again,” Breanne said. “What cup?” Mackenzie struggled to get her voice under control. “The cup the guy with the pipes warned us about. The solstice cup!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember any cup last night.” Breanne rolled over. “Is that your stomach? For Pete’s sake, Mackenzie, find something to eat!” The bundle that held Mackenzie’s smuggled food was still in the corner where she’d left it. She tried not to think of the previous night’s feast as she took out the two remaining fish and the last crust of bread.
