Trial by Fire

by Josephine Angelini

  “You’re tired,” he said, like he was reminding her she needed to buy milk at the store. She regarded his sleeping bag meaningfully, arms crossed.

  “I thought this was my tent.”

  “Your single-tent privileges have been revoked,” he said, looking down at his own hands as he unrolled his bag. For a second, it looked like he was smiling to himself, but when he looked up at her, his face was stern. “Lie down.”

  Rowan set his sleeping bag down against the foot of hers, in a T formation. She was just about to argue with him when a giant, jaw-cracking yawn overtook her. The truth was, Lily felt so exhausted that she didn’t really care where he slept. She stretched out on top of her bag as he climbed into the bag at her feet. He reached out for her, pushing his hand under the hem of her jeans and clasping on to her newly healed ankle. She tried to jerk her foot away, but he only held on tighter.

  “In case you try to wander off again,” he told her. His expression made it clear that there was no point protesting—he wasn’t going to let go. Lily settled back hesitantly while Rowan lowered the lamplight and settled down.

  His hand was refreshingly cool on her hot skin—almost as if he were pulling some of the heat and congestion out of her through the palm of his hand. Lily felt her nose unstuff, the ache behind her eyes lessen, and her fever begin to drop.

  She knew she should probably be terrified of someone who’d threatened to kill her only moments ago, but she wasn’t. The gentle pressure of Rowan’s fingers on her calf soothed her. But as her muscles started to slacken, his seemed to get tighter and tighter. Even though Lily was exhausted, his tension was keeping her awake.

  “What is it?” she finally asked.

  “You’re really dehydrated,” he replied, throwing off his blankets and crossing the dark tent. “Didn’t Tristan tell you about the canteen?”

  He brought it over to her without waiting for a response.

  “I’m fine,” she said stubbornly.

  “You’re not fine. Drink,” Rowan urged, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. She took a few swallows, realized how thirsty she was, and drained the whole canteen in one long draw that left her gasping for breath at the end.

  “Thanks,” she said, handing the canteen back to him. “How did you know I was so thirsty?”

  Rowan didn’t answer her right away—he just shook his head and smiled to himself. After a long pause he finally said, “I’ve been taking care of you for so many years now, I know your body better than you do.”

  Rowan stowed the canteen and climbed back into his bag. He reached out and grabbed on to her ankle again, but this time she didn’t try to pull it away.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Lily opened her eyes and saw an arm. A big, thick male arm. The skin was smooth and a few shades darker than her nearly translucent shoulder, which was pinned beneath it.

  She knew it was Rowan’s arm—the same guy who had said he would happily kill her—but she couldn’t seem to get herself to pull away from him in disgust. Every part of her felt like it was in exactly the right place.

  Lying on her side as she was, she normally had to put a pillow between her skinny thighs to keep her knees from pressing too hard against each other, but Rowan had placed his bent leg in between hers. She had no pillow for her head either, but it didn’t matter. Rowan had put his lower arm under her head to cushion it. Lily always needed something clasped to her chest when she slept or she would feel untethered, only to dream of falling and shake herself awake. This morning she found that she was clutching Rowan’s hand to her heart as if it were her anchor.

  She felt Rowan pull in a shuddering breath as he awoke, his diaphragm fluttering against her back. Lily eased away from him, embarrassed. No matter how good he felt, she didn’t know this guy, and she had no business cuddling with him.

  Lily was trying to figure out how to crawl away as inconspicuously as possible when Rowan untangled himself from her, stood, and left the tent in a few swift motions. She sat up and stared after him, confused.

  The way he’d spoken to her when they were alone last night in the tent, the genuine concern he’d shown over her well-being, had made her think that they could eventually make it through a conversation without wanting to throw rocks at each other. But he stormed out as if she’d wronged him somehow.

  Lily got up and puttered around the tent for a few minutes, rolling up the sleeping bags, trying to convince herself that there was no reason for her to feel ashamed. She was a prisoner. It’s not like she’d asked to share a tent with Rowan, and she certainly hadn’t asked for him to spoon with her.

  “Lily? Are you awake?” Tristan asked from outside the front flap of her tent.

  “Coming,” she called, and lifted the flap. Tristan glanced behind her and into the tent.

  “Where’s Rowan?” he asked, his eyes cautious.

  “He got up and left a few minutes ago,” Lily replied, joining him outside.

  “He just left you alone?”

  “Not too good at guarding people, is he?”

  Tristan and Lily shared a tentative smile before his eyes drifted up to look at the froth of hair on top of her head. Lily’s hand automatically shot up to try to smooth it down. It felt even bushier than usual, and there seemed to be an impressive collection of sticks and leaves in it.

  “I’m going to need a personal moment,” she said wryly. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could get a bath out here, is there?”

  “I’ll take you to the lake,” Tristan replied with a laugh. “You’re going to need some fresh clothes too.”

  Lily looked down at her stained NO NUKES T-shirt and torn jeans. She was filthy. “Yeah, I guess so. Thank you, Tristan.”

  “What’s a nuke?” Tristan asked, leading her through the maze of tents.

  “A nuke is short for a nuclear weapon or a nuclear power plant,” she answered, winding her tangled hair into a bun and knotting it on top of her head. “Do you have nuclear energy here?”

  Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Describe nuclear energy to me.”

  “Oh boy,” Lily said. She took a deep breath and dove in. “Okay, well. There are these things called atoms, teeny tiny bits of matter that are the building blocks of the elements.”

  Tristan unhooked the front flap to a large tent, holding it open for Lily to enter, with a wry grimace on his face. “That sounds like what we call elementals. They’re the smallest parts of the elements.”

  “Exactly!” Lily said excitedly. “Same thing, different name. Well, long story short, nuclear energy comes from fusing or splitting the insides, or nuclei, of the heaviest elements to turn matter directly into energy.”

  “The heaviest elements are really unstable,” Tristan said, his eyes narrowing. “They throw off particles that corrupt cells and cause a wasting disease. If it isn’t caught in time, the corrupted cells overtake the healthy ones. It’s a very painful death.”

  “We call it cancer in my world,” Lily said solemnly. “Which is why I, and a lot of people who think like I do, want to get rid of the nukes. Problem is, not only does nuclear energy power our cities inexpensively, but it’s also the source of our most powerful weapons. My world runs on inexpensive energy and powerful weapons.”

  “That sounds very familiar,” Tristan said with a dark look. “And your shirt helps to change people’s minds about nuclear energy?” he asked.

  “Probably not,” Lily said with a self-deprecating shake of her head. “But a girl can dream.”

  Lily wandered into the center of the tent, taking a closer look. It was a storeroom for all kinds of supplies, including clothes. She turned to find Tristan, still standing by the entrance, thinking deeply.

  “Tristan?”

  “Sorry,” he said, snapping himself out of it. He led her to a small pile of dresses. “Do you see anything you like?”

  “I don’t really do dresses,” Lily said, balking. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure,” Tristan replied, gestur
ing to the jeans she was wearing. “Women wear breeches here, too, although not usually women of your station. But whatever you prefer.”

  “My station, huh?” Lily mumbled uneasily.

  Tristan didn’t comment, but he watched her carefully. She was an American. In her mind, everyone was supposed to be equal. To mask her disapproval, she turned more attention than necessary to the pile of “breeches,” feeling the odd but supple material between her fingertips.

  “What is this? Is it leather?” she asked, pulling her hand away. “I don’t wear leather or fur.”

  “It’s wearhyde. Very much like leather, except it’s grown from a culture.”

  “So this was never part of a living animal?”

  Tristan shook his head. “A few cells taken from a living animal, but that’s all. Raising an animal takes a lot of green and a lot of space. It’s much less expensive to just grow replicas of their skin in the stacks. I’ve noticed you wear a lot of cotton.”

  “Yeah,” Lily said, looking down at her outfit. The way he’d said “cotton” made it sound like gold. “Is it expensive here?”

  “Most natural textiles, like cotton, wool, and linen, take a lot of land to grow,” Tristan said.

  “It’s a big country. Plenty of room,” Lily replied. She thought of the towers of vegetables and the hydroponic greenhouses she’d seen in the cities, and of how they seemed now, in retrospect, to be a kind of vertical farming. She also recalled how heavily guarded they were. A strange notion occurred to her. “You do have farmland and ranches here, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but not many. The Woven started to overrun most of the continent almost two hundred years ago. All the large farms and homesteads in the west were lost,” Tristan said.

  “Tristan?” she asked carefully. “What are the Woven?”

  “They are a mistake,” he began quietly. “About two hundred years ago it was decided that in order to build our cities larger and more efficiently we needed stronger, bigger animals that didn’t require as much food. Animals specifically designed for new types of labor.”

  “Two hundred years ago, huh?” Lily interjected. She wasn’t a history genius, but she’d just studied this period in depth last year for a civics project. “We had an industrial revolution about that time in my world. So, how did you make the Woven? Did you breed them?”

  “No, that wouldn’t have been possible, not on the scale that we needed. The witches wove the germinating cells of many different types of creatures together. Some generations of Woven were very successful. We still use them today.”

  “The things at the bottom of the vegetable towers,” Lily guessed.

  “Guardians, they’re called,” he replied, nodding. “Others, especially those that were part insect—”

  “Part insect?” Lily exclaimed. Tristan nodded and continued.

  “They were harder to control. They got loose.”

  “Insect?” Lily repeated again, trying and failing to tamp down her culture shock.

  “They’re very strong,” Tristan said with a shrug, like that would explain why they were made.

  “So is iron. We made a bunch of machines to build our cities.” She made a rueful face. “But I guess they sort of took our world over, too.”

  Tristan gave her a puzzled look.

  “Forget it. I’m just trying to understand it all.”

  “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he said, his brow furrowing compassionately.

  “Yes.” Lily shrugged, feeling overwhelmed. “Is there anyone who can help me get back to my world?”

  “Honestly? We thought it was impossible to do what Lillian did.” Tristan sighed helplessly. “None of us has a clue.”

  “I just want to go home, Tristan.”

  “I know you do.” He moved closer to Lily, and put his hand on her upper arm to comfort her. “But I’d be sorry if you did. I much prefer you to the Lillian we have here.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled up at Tristan. “But she’s a hag.”

  They shared a much-needed laugh, and Tristan gestured to the piles of clothes. “Pick whatever you’d like. We should hurry.”

  Lily started shuffling through the clothes, looking for something that might fit her. There was only one pair of pants that looked about her size. While she tried on the buttery soft leather-like jackets, Tristan found her a shirt. Lily touched it, noticing that it was made of something like linen.

  “Is it okay for me to take this?” she asked, aware that he was choosing something expensive for her.

  “Of course,” he replied, giving her a funny look. “You can have anything you want.”

  The whole way down to the lake, Lily worried that Tristan had given her the linen shirt because of some misguided belief that she, like Lillian, had the right to certain privileges that others didn’t. Lily didn’t believe in elitist nonsense like that. It bothered her so much that she stopped Tristan, turning him around to face her, as they reached the shoreline.

  “I’m not a lady, you know,” she blurted out. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she wondered if that statement implied the same thing here as it would in her world. “What I mean is, I’m not entitled to any kind of special treatment. In my world, I’m just an ordinary girl. Well, mostly ordinary.”

  Tristan looked surprised at first, and then pleased. He tilted his head down closer to hers, moving slowly. For a moment, Lily wondered if he was going to kiss her, but he stopped a teasing distance away from her mouth. “I don’t think you could be considered ordinary in any world,” he said.

  He was flirting with her, she realized, and she immediately felt suspicious. Not because he was technically her guard and she was his prisoner, but because flirting came too easily to him. Just like it did to her Tristan. She took a step away from him.

  “I thought you wanted to clean up?” he asked after an awkward pause.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Well, go ahead.”

  “Aren’t you going to give me some privacy?” she asked incredulously.

  “Can’t. Wouldn’t want you to run away again, now would I?”

  “I’m not going to undress in front of you,” she said, offended.

  He stepped back and turned around. “Is that better? I promise I won’t peek.”

  Lily stared at Tristan’s back while she peeled off her mangy T-shirt and shredded jeans. Her white Chucks had been on their last leg before she’d come to this world, and after a night of marching through the forest primeval they were utterly destroyed. She quickly stripped off her underwear and bra, jumping when Tristan faked a turn around with his head.

  She squealed and ran into the water, shouting, “Don’t, Tristan! I’m totally naked!”

  His shoulders shook, and he tilted forward with laughter, but he honored her wishes and didn’t turn around. “It’s really charming that you’re so modest. Are people usually this shy in your world?”

  “Yes!” Lily shouted through chattering teeth. “Sweet jeezus, this lake is cold!”

  Lily took a few deep breaths and dunked her head underwater. She washed as quickly as she could, then ran out of the water. She took up a small square of material that Tristan had brought. It was some kind of synthetic fabric that turned out to be incredibly absorbent, and she dried herself with it in a few fast swabs. When she was fully dressed in her new outfit, she told Tristan he could turn back around.

  “What?” she asked, when he gave her the once-over.

  “You look like a rebel,” he replied with a little shake of his head. The way he said the word “rebel” made it clear that he wasn’t talking about disaffected youth. “I know you don’t understand yet, but trust me, it’s incredibly ironic.”

  Lily fell into step next to Tristan, scrunching her curls dry with the ever-thirsty bit of fabric as he led her back to the fire. Apart from the growling in her empty belly, she felt remarkably at ease.

  The wearhyde pants and jacket moved like the softest of leather on her legs and across her back, the boots were w
ell-balanced and light, and the smog-free air was like a blessing to her lungs. The hills rolled and stacked themselves into the distance, just as they did in Lily’s world. The leaf-covered ground shuffled and crunched underfoot in exactly the same combination of birch, oak, and beech leaves as she remembered from her woods. The landscape was bigger, the trees older, and wildlife wilder than anything she knew, but this was still a New England forest in late autumn.

  Lily had read Emerson and Thoreau. She’d read Walden sitting on the shores of Walden Pond, but she hadn’t felt like she was experiencing that same natural wonderland that they’d been moved to expound upon so long ago. It might have been because even at Walden Pond, she could hear the traffic on Route 126 droning away a few hundred yards behind her. But she finally understood all the poetry. Like a fish that had been pulled from its bowl only to be placed on the other side of the glass, she had a new perspective on a room she’d lived in her whole life. Except unlike the fish, she could breathe better outside the bowl.

  Then there was Tristan. She glanced over at him as they neared the center of the camp. His shape, his scent, even the length of his stride were all the same, and all were second nature to Lily. He wasn’t the version of Tristan who had hurt her, but he was still basically the same person, and that was the problem. He had the same easy way with women—the same flirtatiousness. Even though this Tristan had never done anything to hurt her, Lily found herself bristling at the same charming smile she used to love.

  As they joined the main group congregated by the fire, she recalled Lillian’s words. You belong here, and wondered if it was true. Then she thought about the Woven out there in the woods, and decided that she most definitely did not. This world was far too scary for Lily.

  She looked up and saw Rowan staring at her over the fire, his eyes searching hers. Any thoughts of belonging were abruptly discarded. Rowan definitely didn’t want her here, and his distrust colored everything else. Rowan glanced from Lily to Tristan, and then his eyes darted swiftly away, like he knew her well enough to make assumptions about her character. It annoyed her beyond reason.