Her eyes watered and her head felt like it was about to explode. Not like a migraine— migraines didn’t willfully attempt to chew through her body. Pain singed her ears; she wasn’t sure if they were bleeding, but they felt like they could be. Horrible prickles erupted from her every cell. Ana’s shredded wrist sent fire through her body, so hot she might have been glowing. All of her bubbled—except for her throat, which felt clawed by something in her windpipe. Ana didn’t think she could go on much longer, but she was unwilling to stop a second before then. When she closed her eyes—which she could only do for seconds without Liam wanting to stop and make sure she was okay—Ana could feel where everything started: the wrist that promised her rotting end. She kept her face from Liam as they stepped through a pack of decomposing bush dogs. The sky was slowly pulling layers of charcoal onto its long sweep of blue. There was nothing unusual, seeing fallen dogs.
