It was better to burn than to itch. At least Dulce thought, as she spent the majority of the car ride scratching at her numerous mosquito bites. They made small to large welts on the surface of her skin, each of them pulsing red, topped with scratches that didn’t even tease any sign of relief. She surreptitiously pushed her arms and hands against the hot glass of the car window and the metal seat belt parts of the car. The scorching heat was a brief reprieve from the itchiness.
The only ones she did not scratch at (though she desperately wanted to) were the large gashes above her ankle. When she had awoken and slipped out of her sleeping bag, she thought she had gotten bitten by some bees, wasps, or poisonous spiders. She suspected it was a possibly large spider or tarantula, as there wer
