The Feral Sentence- Complete Box Set

by Shade Owens

  What if she did die? I kept telling myself she’d be okay, but there was no way of knowing for sure.

  I shifted my attention to Proxy, who now appeared to be talking to herself.

  “I think Proxy knows what she’s doing,” I said, staring Trim in the face. I’d never seen her this worried before. “If anyone can save Fisher, it’s her.”

  Trim nodded and looked away, seemingly on the verge of shedding a tear or two. She swallowed hard, then pulled her thick round shoulders back and slapped the spear in her hands.

  “Well the best thing we can do for Fisher is make sure she gets to the Cove in one piece,” she said.

  The ironic part in all of this was that had anyone else been attacked by the crocodile, Fisher wouldn’t have allowed us to construct a bed for transportation. She’d have left the woman at Redwood, explaining to us that one person wasn’t worth the risk of getting us all killed.

  While I admired Fisher for her matter-of-fact ideologies, I didn’t necessarily always agree with them. Maybe it was a good thing these women had elected me as their leader. Maybe I’d save more lives—then again, maybe I’d get us all killed.

  Everything about Kormace Island was a gamble.

  “How big’s this Cove?” I asked, my eyes remaining straight ahead. “Is it big enough for—”

  But Coin’s hand swung sideways and slapped me across the chest. Everyone stopped walking, and Coin’s big golf ball eyes were glued on me. “Did you guys hear that?”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Stop tryin’ to scare us,” Franklin said, moving past Johnson and making her way to the front.

  “I ain’t tryin’ to scare nobody,” Coin hissed. “I heard somethin’.”

  “Yeah, like what?” Franklin said, jabbing her spear toward the jungle. “A bird? A monkey?”

  Coin looked at me, then at Franklin. “Didn’t sound like no animal.”

  I scanned the jungle to our right and across the river. There was nothing but giant walls of greenery—massive leaves and tall grass making it impossible to see beyond the jungle’s perimeter.

  “If ve stopped for every sound ve heard,” Everest said, her tired eyes rolling toward Coin, “ve’d never make it to da Cove.”

  I could tell the women were anxious to keep moving. And it was no better to practically stand still like a bunch of ducks. Although we were doing our best to stay within the jungle, we were still following the edge of the river, which meant we were easy to spot.

  I jolted my head sideways, signaling everyone to keep moving.

  “Keep your eyes on the jungle,” I said.

  I took one step forward, and the sound of something scraping was enough for me to swing back around with my arrow pointed straight ahead.

  “Whoa!” Rocket said, raising a flat hand against her forehead and squinting her eyes. “Easy, Brone. It’s Fisher’s bed. It’s stuck.”

  She tugged on the rope, and that same scraping sound overpowered the river’s heavy flow. Ellie gave another tug, but all it did was send her tripping back a few steps. Trim lowered her spear and took a step toward them, but Rocket raised a stiff hand and said, “It’s okay. Just stuck on a tree. We got this.”

  She bent down at one end, her small back curved, and wrapped her fingers around one of the bamboo supports. Ellie rushed around to the foot of the bed and did the same thing.

  “One, two, three,” Rocket said, her third word sounding more like a grunt.

  Together, they raised the bed to their waistlines and stepped over the fallen tree. At the same time, Proxy appeared beside Fisher, her scraggly head moving from side to side as she examined her wounds.

  “In one hour’s time, I’d like to reapply some cleansing herbs to reduce the swelling in her leg,” she said.

  “How’re you gonna know it’s been an hour, genius?” Franklin asked. “Got some magic watch we don’t know about?”

  Proxy closed her eyes and pointed at the sky. “Actually, by studying the sky, one is capable of—”

  But I didn’t hear the rest. All of a sudden, it was as though I were being sucked into a lucid dream—a nightmare, to be more precise. Across the green-watered river, standing hunched on a boulder underneath a canopy tree, was a woman with red markings across her eyes, a half-skull mask on the bottom of her face, and hair so wild she looked like an animal.

  I didn’t have the time to comprehend what I was seeing because I heard something at the same time. The sound hadn’t come from across the river where this woman stood—it had come from beside us—from within the jungle. Quickly turning around, I spotted three more shadowed faces with bright red markings around their eyes.

  All sound around me vanished, and the jungle’s greenery began to blend into one massive swirl, spinning around me like a tornado as it had in my dream.

  Jesus Christ, Brone, focus.

  I was thinking so fast, it felt like everything around me had somehow transitioned to slow motion. Rocket and Ellie were still carrying Fisher’s bed; Ellie’s face was all red and her mouth was half-open as she spoke with Proxy, but I couldn’t hear anything.

  I could sense Trim and Coin beside me, but I knew they hadn’t seen the figures; they hadn’t spotted the Northers. I glanced into the jungle one more time, noting the handcrafted bows fastened to their fur-lined backs.

  They were all Archers.

  We were surrounded.

  Then, I did the only thing a strong leader could have done. Without thinking, I lunged toward Proxy, shoving her as hard as I could against Fisher’s bed. In one chaotic motion, Proxy’s head whiplashed back and everyone’s arms flew into the air as they attempted to catch their footing.

  But they didn’t stand a chance. I’d pushed hard enough to force Fisher’s bed into the river, bringing along with her Proxy, Rocket, and Ellie.

  They fell backward, eyes widened in confusion by my betrayal. Ellie’s arms slapped the water around her, her thick wavy hair becoming black and glossy, and she gasped to catch her breath, her mouth and nostrils wide open.

  If this was the feeling of heartbreak, I’d collapse any moment. Ellie kept looking back at me, not understanding what was going on. I watched her wet head float away into the rapid current, and the three of them attempt to stabilize Fisher’s bed. I knew they were heading straight for the waterfall, but I’d had no other choice. Had I not done anything, they’d have been killed or captured; and if they’d been captured, Fisher would have died.

  The sound of angry voices exploded around me, and a sharp point jabbed me in the chest; only, this wasn’t a Norther’s doing, it was Trim’s. She was staring at me with ferocious eyes underneath bushy eyebrows that led me to believe she’d be the one to end me.

  Her nostrils were flared as wide as her open, rotten-toothed mouth, and the skin on her forehead formed rolls between her eyebrows. Her jab turned into a painful prod. But I didn’t have the time to explain myself because the sound of a whistling arrow zoomed by Trim’s face, landing in between two river stones at our feet.

  Then, from inside the jungle came three women pointing metal-tipped arrows at our faces. The biggest of them all, a woman wearing a leather combat vest, a skull mask, and a necklace with what appeared to be a massive shark tooth, stepped forward. She had a small blond bun at the top of her partially shaved head, and her hands were veiny and muscular—almost enough to mistake her for a man.

  She aimed her bow at all of us, one at a time, then pointed it down toward the slimy rocky surface, the mask on her face sliding up right below her eyes.

  “On your knees!”

  CHAPTER 10

  Their leader—the one with the small blond bun at the top of her head—circled us, her hollow, animallike eyes scanning us from above her half-skull mask. It covered the bridge of her nose, cheeks, and face down to the top of her neck and almost looked like burned wood, its surface dry with black stains and cinder ash spots around the teeth.

  She kicked aside our weapons, and I watched as my bow—Eagle’s bow—landed
inches away from the flowing river. My quiver rolled down a slant and several arrows fell out.

  I shifted from side to side, and a sharp rock jabbed into the skin of my knee.

  “Hands behind your back,” the leader ordered, her voice muffled and raspy from behind her mask.

  I looked at Trim who was glaring up with a crease in the middle of her forehead. What was she thinking? Was she planning to attack? Was it better to fight for our lives? My eyes shifted to two other Northers who stood farther back, their arrows pointed at our chests. We didn’t stand a chance.

  There were five in total—I hadn’t seen two of them until I craned my neck to see behind the leader. If we tried to fight, they’d release their arrows and kill us instantly. What were they planning, anyway? Why hadn’t they killed us when they first saw us?

  My heart pounded hard, and my face was so hot it was probably red and blotchy.

  This was it, I thought.

  I was going to die.

  As long as Ellie was okay… That was all that mattered, wasn’t it? That was the reason we were here, and they weren’t. Who was I kidding? There was no way of knowing if they’d even survived the waterfall drop. I shook these thoughts away. It was better to have given them a chance to survive than to let them stay in this position—at the mercy of the Northers.

  “Tie them up,” the leader said.

  Two of the Northers stepped forward. One of them had a similar skull mask while the other wore a bandana-like cloth over her face. It was brown, though I was certain it used to be white—most likely a sheet of cotton.

  I watched them as they moved in, wondering if they had any shred of humanity inside. These were the monsters we’d been fighting for so long, and they were precisely that: monsters. They moved with such confidence, their shoulders drawn back and their arms swaying from side to side. It was almost like they weren’t even human, like robots programmed for battle.

  “What do you want with us?” Johnson shouted, her face distorted in anger.

  Everyone looked at her, including the leader of the Norther clan. She slowly tilted her partially covered head, her soulless eyes narrowing to two black lines. “You can ask Rainer yourself.”

  Rainer? So, they weren’t planning on killing us? Why? What did Rainer want with us? Wasn’t she satisfied enough already? She’d proven herself to be the most powerful leader on Kormace Island when she massacred Murk’s people—my people—and burned our village to the ground.

  So why were they still hunting us if they weren’t trying to kill us?

  Two strong hands grabbed my wrists, pulled them behind my back and wrapped a rough, stringy material around them until my palms were stuck together.

  Trim was next.

  For a moment, I thought she might jump to her feet and start bashing some faces in, but she didn’t budge. I could tell it was eating her alive. All she wanted to do was kill these pieces of shit.

  I didn’t blame her—I wanted the same thing. Had they not been pointing arrows at us, I’d have taken my chances and fought without a second thought. But if I got up, I’d be killed. It was better to wait and see where this was going.

  I glanced at Franklin who looked like an injured baby donkey, her eyes big and fearful, her jaw twitching. For the first time, I felt sorry for her. She may have trained as a Battlewoman, but that was equivalent to training a pilot in a simulator and throwing them into a multiengine jet to fly solo. She’d never been in battle—at least, not on Kormace Island.

  Her badass tattooed exterior was now unnoticeable. All I saw was a girl on the verge of death—a girl who didn’t know what to think, feel, or believe. She bit down on her lip, and her eyes caught mine. She didn’t glare or scowl. She almost looked like she was going to cry.

  I tightened my lips and nodded as a way of saying, We’re going to be okay.

  I didn’t know whether that was true or not. There was a good chance we weren’t coming out of this alive, but she needed reassurance and it was my job to give it to her.

  “Vatch it!” Everest shouted when one of the Northers grabbed her wrists.

  The leader stepped forward, her tall leather boots crunching over small river stones.

  “Something wrong?” she asked, slowly bending down to meet Everest in the eyes.

  “I’m old,” Everest said. “Vat do you expect?”

  The leader straightened her posture and slowly turned to the other Northers.

  “She’s right,” she said. “She is old. And if she’s old, what does that mean?”

  “Can’t produce,” said one of the other Northers, baring a set of brown crooked teeth. “Useless.”

  She sounded like a cavewoman, or worse, someone who’d been raised here on Kormace Island with no education whatsoever.

  In one swift movement, the leader reached down and slapped two hands on Everest’s shoulders, her fingers clasping hard. Everest let out a yelp, but the leader didn’t stop. She picked her up and dragged her across the river stones.

  “Stop it!” I shouted, but no one listened.

  “Let me go!” Everest yelled, slapping a weak hand against the Norther’s padded shoulder.

  The leader grabbed her by the back of her colorless hair, and Everest grimaced in pain, the folds of her face multiplying. What was the Norther doing? Why was she dragging her toward the river?

  “Let her go!” Trim growled.

  Everest tried slapping her attacker one more time, but the Norther didn’t flinch. She bent her knees, tightened her grip around Everest’s shoulders, and threw her into the river with a loud splash. Everest’s wet white head resurfaced, and she croaked and flailed her veiny arms in every direction possible trying to stay above water.

  But then, the Norther standing beside me—the one who’d spoken like a cavewoman—drew her bow, pulled back, and released an arrow, the string of her bow making a snapping noise. I barely had time to see what happened, but the silence that filled the air told me she hadn’t missed her mark.

  I looked at Everest as she floated away in silence, an arrow protruding from her neck, a pool of murky red water forming around her.

  “What the fuck?” Johnson snapped, and she tried to get up.

  But the Norther behind her smacked a solid hand on her shoulder and she fell back to her knees.

  The leader slowly turned to Johnson, her eyes squinting with pleasure. “She wasn’t of any use to us.”

  “She was a human being! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Johnson spewed.

  My heart was beating so hard I felt it in my throat. Why was she doing this? Was she trying to get herself killed?

  The leader dropped into a crouched position in front of Johnson—a condescending stance that exuded dominance—and dug a shiv against her throat. She slid the blade up her neck, along her freckled jawline, and across her lips.

  “One more word out of you, and I’ll slice those pretty lips right off,” she said.

  Johnson winced and pulled away from the knife’s sharp point, and the leader laughed. She stood up tall, her leather belt making a chafing noise with her movement. I wished I could see her face—see the monster behind the mask. But the Northers—all five women standing before me—were covered from head to toe. Even their arms, despite Kormace Island being hot and sticky all year round, were covered with a beige meshing that made it almost impossible to see their skin.

  I felt a dull pull on my arm and the Norther behind us let out a grunt. “Get up!”

  I struggled to my feet, doing my best to maintain my balance with my hands tied behind my back.

  “Get in line,” the leader ordered, waving a black fingernailed hand at each of us.

  Johnson stood at the front and I stood between her and Trim. Beside Trim was Coin, then Hammer, with Franklin at the back of the line. There was so much emotion in the air it seemed as though electricity was pulsating through all of us. I could sense Trim’s anger—her wanting to torture these women. I, for one, wished I could rip off the Norther’s mask, plung
e my hands into her mouth, and snap her jaw in two.

  I’d never felt so much hatred in my life. At least when Greg attacked my mother, I’d been able to do something about it. It was my decision to swing that iron pan. But now, I was at their mercy—at the mercy of these filthy, horrid excuses for human beings. How much longer would I be able to keep my mouth shut? The idea of killing one Norther became appealing, even if it meant I’d be killed immediately after.

  But it was too late now. My hands were tied and my bow and arrows were too far away.

  The leader paced back and forth across the line we’d made, twirling her shiv in the palm of her hand almost tauntingly.

  “Who’s the leader of this little group you have here?” she asked.

  Leader? I swallowed hard and my heart skipped a beat. What did they want with the leader? Did they expect me to give them information on something? On someone? Would they torture me for it?

  But I didn’t even have time to step forward. Trim raised her chin, her dark frizzy hair falling and masking the back of her neck, and said, “I am.”

  I parted my lips, but Trim turned to me and didn’t say anything. She’d never looked at me like that before. It wasn’t a look of pride, but rather, one of purpose. She pulled up one corner of her lips and her eyes softened above her acne-scarred cheeks.

  If I’d had to guess what she was trying to tell me, it would have been: Let me do this.

  At once, her features became distorted—her lips drooped, eyes went wide, forehead wrinkled—when the leader grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the ground. Trim landed on her hands and knees, a loud crack filling the air around us as she hit the rocks.

  “That’s going to be a bit of a problem,” the leader said, and she front kicked Trim straight in the ribs, propelling her onto her back.

  “No!” Johnson shouted, but one of the Northers moved forward with her arrow drawn at Johnson’s face.