Free Terra by Gretchen Powell Page A

my hands, and I notice an unfamiliar metal ring wrapped around the neck.
    “I’ve been drinking the same water, using the same portable filter, and I’m still standing,” he finishes.
    I lower my hand from my neck and assess myself. Granted, it doesn’t feel like I’m dying.
    “How is that possible?” I think aloud, staring at the pool. The purification process for drinkable water takes days. There’s no way the toxins could have been filtered out so quickly. My system should already be shutting down.
    My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Well, at any rate, you can understand why I was alarmed,” I say.
    “Sure,” he says, though I feel like he’s just placating me.
    “So this… thing,” I say, rapping my fingernails against the metal ring, “is some kind of water filter?”
    “Uh, yes?” he answers.
    “And you just… fill it up? And it purifies the water? Instantly?” My eyes dart back and forth from the bottle in my hands to the pool, my bewilderment leaving a long, awkward silence between Adam and me.
    “So, Mica?” he says, finally breaking the silence. “Who’s that?”
    His attempts at empathy are grating.
    “He’s my younger brother.” I stand up and am pleased to find how much stronger I feel already. I throw the backpack over my shoulder and walk over to the pool. I bend down and rip a few green blades from the ground, then toss them into the water. They fall gently to the surface, and the absence of hissing and steam confirms that the water’s not acidic.
    Tentatively, I dip the canteen into the pool and fill it halfway. I shoot Adam a guarded look and, after he nods, I take a small swig. There’s no burning; not even that metallic aftertaste I’ve become so accustomed to from Marketplace canteens. The bottle is empty again before I know it. I dip it into the cool water a final time, filling it to the top before I screw the cap on and put it back in Mica’s bag.
    “Well, thanks,” I say awkwardly. Adam nods and I take off in the opposite direction of the wall, toward the tree line. I am moderately annoyed, but thoroughly unsurprised, when I hear him follow me.
    “So now that we’ve established that you’ll live to see another day, how about your name?” he calls to my back.
    I ignore him. Now that I’m conscious and rehydrated, I have to get home. Mica must be freaking out. All I need to do is reach the other side of this encapsulation dome, or whatever Adam called it. If it is a dome, I have to hit another wall eventually. As soon as I find it, I can look for another door panel and hopefully get back to the surface far away from wherever the raiders have set up camp.
    “If I save your life a third time, will you tell me?”
    I frown. I can’t deny the fact that he’s already helped me more than anyone who isn’t related to me would ever bother. And how have I shown my gratitude? By giving him a bloody lip, mocking him, and yelling at him.
    I slow my stride to let him catch up. “My name is Terra,” I say as he falls into step beside me.
    “Terra?” he says, laughing raucously. “What kind of ridiculous name is that?” I whip my head toward him, affronted, and he shrugs. “Old-fashioned, remember?”
    “In my defense,” I say, “I was delirious from dehydration when I said that. I can’t really be held responsible for my words.” My eyes flit to his lower lip. “Or actions.”
    “Okay, fair. But that means I can hold you responsible for both from now on, right?”
    “I really am fine now,” I say. “I don’t need an escort.”
    “Precedence begs to differ,” he says lightly, grinning lopsidedly.
    I scowl, and we fall into silence, trekking side-by-side through the greenery. As we work our way further into the woods, fallen leaves and twigs crunch beneath our feet. There are no clear paths marked, so I occasionally have to force my way through thick bushes and groups of branches in order to continue forward.
    I can’t keep my eyes from wandering as we