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Summary
Exhausted, scared, famished and overheated, Jemma came to a skidding stop at the edge of a small brook that looked to be a few yards across and a few feet deep. She dropped to her knees, sending them sinking into the damp muck at the water’s edge. Leaning over and swaying as a dizzy spell made her waver, she sunk both of her hands blindly into the cool water. In the back of her mind, her brain screamed at her that she needed to find a way to boil or filter this water but the scratchy, gritty, sandy feel to her parched throat and swollen tongue forced her not to care. Her senses were solely focused on her thirst as she cupped her hands together and began to lift a scoop of the cool water towards her mouth.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”