That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction

by A. M. Lalonde

  Astrea dodged through the familiar twists and turns of the terrain. Fallen moss-covered logs, brambles, and low hanging branches were no match for her lithe movements, even with the limited visibility. The blur of white had nearly disappeared, the pound of hoofs fading under the cloak of fog when it slowed.

  She caught up to the creature as it fell to its knees. “Please don’t.” That voice again. Astrea glanced around, but still didn’t see anyone.

  Taking the canteen from her side, she splashed some water on the lolling tongue. She didn’t want the creature to die – and if it had to, she didn’t want it to be by her hands. The unicorn’s eyes closed, and she could almost convince herself he was asleep. She held on to his head a little longer, her fingers running through the soft mane.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Then, she let out a shrill whistle.

  Several minutes passed before she heard the crash of branches. Rosin’s red mop came into view first, and her younger brother nearly tripped on a branch when he caught sight of her and the unicorn. “Whoa! How’d you get that?”

  “Saw it feeding,” Astrea replied. “You have any luck?”

  “No. Nothing. These woods are quieter than a cat in a tree.”

  Astrea and Rosin both glanced up. Lynx attacks had been on the rise, carrying away unsuspecting villagers in a flash. The elusive cats didn’t often attack humans, but times were tough for all in the Mist, or at least what few creatures hadn’t left yet. A shiver ran down Astrea’s back, though there was no sign of the predator. Too bad the lynx were so smart; if catching one wasn’t so dangerous, the tribe might not be in the shape they were in now.

  Another set of approaching footsteps brought Tiki, Astrea’s older brother. Several bronze curls flew free, despite the band of leather he used to keep his hair tied back. “Whoa! Nice find. Sure we can use it?”

  Astrea shook her head. “I’m bringing it to council to see what they say, though I don’t think they can afford to turn it down.”

  Rosin had his hand on the flank. “Just doesn’t seem right.”

  “I know.” Astrea placed the head on the ground, then stood. “We should get moving. Don’t want sleeping beauty here to wake up before we have a chance to get him in the cage.”

  Tiki slapped his hands together. “Right. Let’s get to work.”

  It took about an hour to get the travois strung together and another hour to load and drag the unconscious animal back to the village. They came in panting, greeted by shock and wonder from the rest of the tribe as they took their captor to the cage at the center.

  The unicorn began to stir shortly after they locked him up, and Astrea cast a regretful eye at the beautiful creature. Maybe council would spare him. She had the sinking feeling that if they did end up eating him, he’d be tough and gamey, and bitter with the taste of the forest’s loss.

  Chapter Two

  It didn’t take long for the council to assemble. Word of fresh meat had spread through the village like dragonfire. Astrea stood near the back of the crowded circular room, leaning against the rough wood wall.

  Mavin sidled up to her, arms crossed. “Think you’re pretty great, bringing in a unicorn?”

  “Shut up, Mavin.” Everything about the boy—only one moon her elder—drove her insane. The way the curls always got in his eyes, his tall, gangly body, the flappy ears that stuck out even under that unruly mop.

  “Even with all that mud on you, your skin looks too clean.”

  Astrea rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Well maybe you’re too dark.”

  “My skin is a galaxy of freckles. You? You’ve barely enough for a constellation.”

  Mavin was always picking on her. Her skin wasn’t as freckled as the rest, her hair more carrot than copper. Even her eyes were different, in their odd slant and rare blue coloring.

  The tribe—or the Rudan—were the only humans in the fog. Not that other humans weren’t outlawed by Illumians. The Banned would wander in on occasion, seeking shelter. They all grew sickly and died, all except for the redheads, who were immediately adopted into the tribe. Council decreed that there would be no mixing with the outsiders, for fear their blood would weaken the tribe. If, by chance, a child was born without red hair, they would be killed. The message was clear: those who were weak, who didn’t belong, were not welcome.

  “Lay off, Mavin,” Tiki said, inserting himself between the two. Astrea flashed her brother a half smile, mouthing her thanks as the council called for quiet. Mavin scowled and slunk off. Probably looking for another victim to torment.

  She saw Mamaa and Pawpaw enter the circle, taking seats a little closer up. Her mother caught her eye, a strange look rolling over her face, then in a blink melting into her usual warm smile. Those looks were becoming more frequent as of late. Astrea had attributed it to the famine, a mother’s worry for her children, but in light of her latest catch . . . Astrea shook her head, willing the doubts to subside. She belonged, just like everyone else, no matter what Mavin said. Didn’t catching the unicorn prove that? Didn’t everything she’d ever done prove that?

  Rosin bounded up to Astrea as the council members began their discussion, and she ruffled his flopping curls. He leaned against her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. A few more moons and he’d be too tall. She rested her chin on his head, silently willing him to stop growing. It didn’t seem right for him to be knocking on the door of manhood like he was.

  “We need meat,” one woman in the center was saying, her pinched face made even more severe by the tight bun high on her head.

  “But at what cost?” said another man whose forgotten age clung to his bones with a frail ferocity. “Unicorns are magical beasts. Who knows what kind of curse we will heap upon our heads.”

  “That knowledge comes from Illumia.” The man who spoke spat on the ground, a lower council member, though no less influential than the others. “We turned our backs on their laws long ago.”

  The animals of the forest had been leaving, driven out by the dwindling supply of edible vegetation. The trees had stalled their growth, and what few vegetables they were able to grow in the ever-present fog had all but died out. The villagers would be next if they didn’t do something soon. Many had suggested that they leave, but where would they go? The sea to the east and the Dragon Range circling the valley left little choice. Even if they survived the Dragon Range, the tribe of banned would never be allowed to leave the Mist. The Illumians would see to that. And there was no guarantee that conditions were any better anywhere else in the Mist valley. They couldn’t afford to move, but they couldn’t afford to stay. Villagers were dropping off, taken by animals or illness or the council’s never ending quest to pare out the weak.

  But no matter how much they needed the meat, killing a unicorn felt all wrong, like Astrea’s feet had before her body sprouted six inches a few summers prior.

  Astrea watched the heated back and forth, her own heart teetering to the same beat as the council. The Rudan needed the food. Killing a unicorn was wrong. They would die without it. His death might bring more harm than good. Astrea’s heart refused to settle, even after hunger won out the council.

  Her brothers congratulated her, then ran off to help secure the village for the night. Astrea wasn’t so lucky. The crowd trapped her with their praise and thanks. She smiled and nodded, but their words did nothing to heal the wound she felt, their kindness shredding her raw heart.

  The slaughter would take place in the morning, which meant tonight there would be no sleep for Astrea. It’s for the village, she reminded herself once again, though her heart refused to believe. Maybe she really wasn’t like the rest.

  Chapter Three

  Astrea wove through the concentric circles of huts, a shell of protection the Rudan had designed to withstand the hazards of the fog. Not that the village was attacked often; the fearsome reputation of the band of outlaws provided nearly as much protection as their carefully built defenses. But the safety she once felt here now tighte
ned like a noose around her itchy neck.

  She stopped at the well, hauling up a bucket to wash the mud off. The cool water felt good, cleansing her skin and soothing her frayed conscience. Before long the dirt was gone, her wet skin prickling in the cool night air. It was time to return home.

  Her heavy footsteps slowed as she approached their hut. What would mother say? Would Mamaa be proud she caught the unicorn? Disappointed? And what of Astrea’s own misgivings?

  She swallowed hard, taking the last few steps to her house and slipped inside. The dark warmth of the hut ensconced her as she closed the door. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the firelight, which cast the sweet smell of pine from its blazing embers. Mamaa rocked in a corner, the familiar squeak of wood on earth mixing with the hurried tat of her darning needles.

  “Astrea, will you fetch my satchel? I need my knife.”

  Mamaa didn’t even look up, her fading red hair nearly blazing in the firelight, and Astrea’s lips wormed their way into a half smile. She admired her mother’s innate sense. Astrea grabbed the satchel from the floor where it sat beside the door and took it to her mother.

  “Oh, Mamaa, I think I’ve done an awful thing.”

  “The unicorn?” Mamaa asked, taking the satchel. She looked at Astrea, that same odd look passing over her face.

  Astrea dropped her head. “Yeah, the unicorn. I wish I’d never seen him.” She sat on the ground by her mom’s chair, scratching at the dirt that made up their floor, compacted by the steady wear of family life. Small clumps broke off, embedding under her nails, something her mother usually scolded her about.

  Mamaa cut the string, then put the knife back in the satchel, pulling out a small, white parcel wrapped in twine. “Don’t go hanging yourself over that. It’s a godsend, really.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll even be able to eat him. He’s so majestic. It seems an awful thing to do to a creature so rare.”

  “You’re not going to eat him.” Mamaa pushed the parcel into Astrea’s hands.

  Astrea stopped and stared, the package hanging limply in her hand. “But council ruled for it.”

  Mamaa waved her off, like what she’d said didn’t carry the heavy weight of finality. “There’s not much time. You have to go.”

  “What? Why?”

  Mamaa sighed, brushing back a stray wisp of hair, her look so full of misery and pity. “You’re in danger if you stay here. Not just from the tribe, but from the fog.”

  “Danger? I don’t understand.”

  “You’re different, little star. You need more than the Mist can give you . . . more than I can give you, no thanks to the famine.” She got up and pulled Astrea’s arms into a makeshift table, moving the parcel onto them and pulling a necklace out of a loose flap. The pendant had a sun swallowed by crescent moon, three stars between them.

  Mamaa slipped the necklace over Astrea’s head and tucked it under her tunic. “This is important. Don’t lose it.”

  Astrea stared at her mom, questions flaring through her head too fast for her drying lips to form. After a few moments, she grasped one, though it seemed wholly inadequate. “I’m different?”

  Mamaa shook her head. “I don’t have time to explain. The parcel you hold in your hand contains milk,” Mamaa pressed on, despite Astrea’s desire for time to stop, “and everything I know . . . everything I’ve been keeping from you. It’s all in there.”

  “My place is here.” The words felt hollow, and Astrea could barely squeak them out. Her mother wouldn’t look at her.

  “You have to take the unicorn and go.”

  Astrea’s eyes widened, her heart jumping as her mind rejected everything that left her mother’s mouth. “No. The tribe needs this. You’ll starve if I take him.”

  Mamaa shot Astrea a look, the one that used to convince her as a toddler that she’d die if she didn’t do as her mother asked. “You need this. Besides, we don’t slaughter unicorns. Even outlaws have principals.”

  “I don’t want to go. Whatever it is, I can face it.”

  “You will die if you stay!” Mamaa shook, eyes glistening with unshed tears as her gaze finally met Astrea’s. “I can’t sustain you any longer. You have to go. You won’t get a chance like this again.” Her look pierced Astrea to her core. Mamaa shook her head, whisking around the small room with incredible speed for her age, throwing various items in the satchel.

  Astrea stood, following her mother around the small room, her fingers digging into the forgotten parcel. “What about my brothers? What about Pawpaw?”

  “Your father knows.” She stilled, her gaze leaving the present.

  Astrea touched her arm. “Mamaa?”

  She gave Astrea a small smile and patted her hand. “He’s out making sure the boys don’t come back until you’re gone.”

  A tear rolled down Astrea’s cheek, and she wiped it away with blind fury, her nail leaving a burning trail. “Am I really such a burden?”

  Mamaa stopped again, enveloping Astrea in her soft embrace. “No, child. You’re all I ever wanted. I just wish I could keep you longer.” She took a breath and straightened back up. “But I can’t protect you if you stay.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “You’ll do as your mother says.” Astrea’s father lumbered through the door, his hulking form filling the frame.

  “But Pawpaw—”

  “Do you want to die?”

  Astrea shook her head.

  Pawpaw ran his hand over his chin-halo of a beard, not a hair moving out of its natural formation. “Your mother kept you alive for all these years. Don’t waste it now. Do as she says. Go.” His muscular arms crossed, and Astrea knew she had no choice. Father’s word was law in this household.

  She hung her head, the torrent of tears stinging her eyes and rattling her shoulders. All those times spent crying because she didn’t feel like she belonged. The long talks with Mamaa. The fighting to fit in. All in vain. She was being cast out, like the misfit she’d always known herself to be.

  “All right,” Astrea croaked when she found her voice again. “But I won’t take the unicorn. I won’t condemn the village.”

  Mamaa looked like Astrea had raised a hand to her. “And be taken by the Lynx or ogres or fog knows what? No. You take the unicorn. Do it for us, little star.”

  Pawpaw put a hand on her shoulder, the stern look on his face betrayed by the softness in his eyes. “We’ll survive. We’re not entirely incapable without you.”

  “But—”

  His voice hardened. “The time to argue has passed. Go, before some village idiot decides to slaughter the poor creature tonight.”

  Astrea looked to her mother. Mamaa’s mouth was set, though there was a tremble to her jaw. She didn’t want to go, but she couldn’t disappoint her parents. She plunged headlong into her mother’s outstretched arms, squeezing her tight.

  “You can do this,” Mamaa soothed as she stroked Astrea’s hair. “You’re my strong, brave girl.” As they separated, she pulled the parcel from Astrea’s hands and slipped it back in the satchel. “Be a good girl and drink the milk for as long as you can. It will help keep you strong and healthy. Don’t waste a drop. And keep that necklace on you at all times. You hear me?” Astrea nodded. Mamaa draped the bag over Astrea’s shoulder and took her daughter’s face in her weathered hands. “Go. Find Illumia. It’s your only chance.”

  Illumia, land of sunshine and idiots, if the stories she’d heard held any truth. She didn’t want anything to do with them. Why would her parents send her there? What made them think Illumia would even take her? She was a child of the Banned, outlawed and outcast.

  Astrea turned to Pawpaw and gave him a hug. These were the only goodbyes she would get, and she was determined to savor every last fleeting moment.

  “Tell my brothers I love them?”

  Pawpaw nodded.

  When she broke away, her father gave her a kiss on the forehead, and Astrea took the last few steps to the door. With one final glance at her par
ents, something she hoped would etch them firmly in her memory, she struck out into the night.

  It was a fool’s errand, traveling to Illumia, and apparently she was to be a fool.

  Chapter Four

  Astrea stole through the village like a Lynx, silently padding past the villagers and huts she used to call home. All of this felt wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But her parents were right. The consequences she would face—they all would face—if she stayed were too great. At least that’s what they told her, though she still didn’t know why. But she believed them, with every fiber of her being. If she left now, she might spare her family greater heartache, maybe even their lives. Outlaw rule could be severe.

  Her footsteps left the dirt and met hay, sending a soft crunch into the air. The unicorn lifted its head, staring at her from behind the bars. It let out a breath, lips flapping from the force.

  “Shhh,” Astrea whispered, creeping to the door. “We need to escape. I need you to be quiet so we don’t wake the village.” How foolish, talking to a beast, Astrea admonished. It’s not like he can understand you.

  “Oh, sure. Blame the unicorn. No. I think I will wake the village. We can all sit down and have a meal.”

  Astrea whirled at the hollow voice, but she didn’t see anyone. “Who’s there?” she hissed.

  The unicorn side-stepped to the edge of the cage, attracting Astrea’s attention once again. “Interesting. I’m afraid it’s just you and me.”

  Astrea cocked her head to the side, worried the stress had finally gotten to her. “Can you speak?”

  The unicorn appeared to blink. With one eye. “No. But you can hear.”

  Astrea shook her head, trying to rid herself of the piling questions. “I don’t have time for this. We have to go. Now.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Astrea spun to face the familiar voice, her expression sour. “Mavin.” It figured that he would be the one to discover her. The weasel watched her every move, always searching for a chance to best her or bring her before the council for a chastising. Not that she gave him much chance, but she still had the scar on her leg from when he had pushed her out of a tree as they raced to the top.