Chapter 6
When Keston came to, his eyes focused on the stars, freed from the storm, at least for a few hours. Drowned. How could he see the stars if he died, devoured by an angry lake and lost to the world in a watery grave? Or could it be, had he somehow managed to find his way back to dry land, carried to safety by the very same waves meant to do him in?
Every single inch of him ached, from the throbbing in his head to what he suspected was a pulled muscle in his side. And the more awake he became, the more he realized it hurt to breathe, each draw of oxygen—and boy did it taste wonderful—meant having hundreds, thousands of needles pricking him in the chest all at once. When he swallowed, he was reminded of a time when he was a kid and got to stay home from school because he came down
