Selah was so sick of being upright. Her skin poured sweat. Her eye sockets were embers. Her tongue was sandpaper.
They’d been walking for an hour.
“Can we please have a water break?” Selah begged.
Rose stopped to consider. “I suppose now is a good time for a sip,” she said.
When Selah had seen Rose at the well before they left, filling at least two canteens of water per person, she thought she was crazy. Now she wished they’d brought more.
Rose opened a canteen she’d strapped on her back and untwisted the cap. She took a small, delicate sip. Selah wiggled her toes in anticipation. She swore she could smell the water.
Then Rose passed the canteen on to Artemis. On and on went the canteen, to everyone’s mouth but Selah’s. It was an infinite circle of mouths except her own. At this poin
