As we walked, the sunlight didn't feel as cruel anymore, but that didn't mean the world felt any kinder. My head was swimming, the fever digging its claws deeper into me with every step. I could feel it—like a storm brewing inside me, ready to rip through my body at any moment.
Alex had stopped a few feet ahead of me, pulling the map from his jacket pocket. He unfolded it with a frustrated flick of his wrist, the paper crinkling loudly in the stillness.
"Where the hell are we?" he muttered under his breath, scanning the faded lines and marks.
I stood a few paces behind him, swaying slightly as I tried to keep my balance. The air felt too heavy, each breath a labor. I wanted to tell him to hurry up, to just pick a direction and move, but my mouth was too dry to form the words.
