June nods and I let go of her waist slowly. I lift my legs and slide them both to one side then push myself up to a crouching position. I stand carefully and grip a branch above me as soon as it is within reach. I widen my stance then draw my sword. I wait for the bat-like beast to return.
I hear the whoosh of air as the creature swoops toward us, its jaw unhinged. My heart batters my ribcage so hard I fear a rib will be damaged in the process. I am panting when the beast comes within reach. I haul my sword high overhead with one arm and cleave the air. My blade meets with flesh and carves straight through it until it is freed on the other side. I have beheaded the beast. Its head careens to the ground below immediately, followed by the body, and both land with a clunk. The follow-through makes me begin to lose my footing and cling to the branch overhead, all the while squeezing the hilt of my sword so tightly with my other hand that my palms burn. I regain my balance just in time to watch a pack of Lurkers descend on the head. They begin devouring the meat that rained from the sky, but not before sniffing the air and investigating the area around them. They yelp and chuff softly. I crouch and sheathe my sword then slide beside June and press us both to the center of the tree. Will and his siblings do the same.
We remain out of sight until the wet slopping sound of feeding returns and we feel confident the Lurkers have resumed feasting. We breathe a collective sigh of relief when finally they finish and move on. June’s body shivers next to mine and I hold her tight until her body stills and her breathing becomes even. Several times during the night, I feel my grip on her slacken, feel my body tip forward and begin to fall, but catch myself just in time.
The night creeps at a painfully sluggish pace. I fear I will fall so I do not sleep, save for the intermittent dozing that leads to waking with a terrified start. When day finally dawns, I feel as if I may cry. I am bone-tired; exhausted in a way that surpasses physical exhaustion. But I know a daunting task awaits me. I must climb down from the tree. And I must hike for the entire day.
I groan and June stirs.
“It’s morning!” she exclaims as soon as the bleariness leaves her eyes. “You were right, Avery! You were right all along. I’m so sorry I doubted you,” she whispers.
“Me, too,” Will surprises me by saying. “You saved us again last night from that . . . monster,” he adds. “I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay.” His voice is sincere and serious.
“You owe me nothing,” I say softly and look him in his eyes. Then to the children I say, “We need to get down from here. I don’t know about any of you, but my backside is numb.”
A series of chuckles ripple among them and one by one, we make our way down the tree.
I do not know where our next journey will take us and I don’t know what the future holds. All I know is that as long as blood pumps through my veins, I will fight to keep us safe. I will fight for our right to live.
Chapter 2
At the base of the enormous elm tree we took shelter in, I stretch the many kinks in my back and shoulders. I feel as if I have been beaten with a stick. Parts of me ache that I didn’t know were capable of aching in the first place, namely my backside. I would love to soak them in hot water until the pain eases. I remember stories of hot springs and heated indoor tubs of water that existed before the war. My dad used to tell June and I about them. So many tales had been shared from one generation to the next, tales of comfort and safety, of luxury that June and I will never know.
I roll my shoulders and rub my throbbing thighs and legs and silently wish we would stumble upon a hot spring. I would like nothing more than to submerge my sore body up to my chin and revel in the soothing heat. I daydream about what it would be like to indulge in such an experience, to feel the tension inside me, inside each and every muscle, melt and become one with the water. My eyes burn and feel as if they have sand particles in them. I allow my eyelids to slowly slide shut. I envision myself wrapped in warmth, in soothing ripples of comfort. My breathing becomes slow and steady. Little by little, I feel as if I am falling away from my body, as if my mind has separated from it and is floating away on a lazy river.
The rough, rigid bark of the tree trunk scrapes against my cheek as my temple knocks against it. It comes as a rude awakening in every sense of the expression. I realize I fell asleep while standing and keeled over into the tree.
“Avery, are you okay?” I hear Will ask. His voice is filled with concern.
My vision is blurry for a moment but I see that he is moving toward me quickly. I blink several times in an attempt to clear the haziness.
I am embarrassed beyond words. My head pounds in time with the rest of my limbs and my cheek stings from the scrape.
“I’m fine,” I say to Will quickly. “I just, uh, bumped my head,” I add and nod stiffly.
My cheeks are blazing. I can practically see the glow from them lighting the space in front of me. I curse my fair skin under my breath. If I were as fortunate as Will and his siblings to have a rich, olive skin tone my shame would be hidden better. But I do not. And skin tone is the least of my problems at the moment. Eating and getting our group moving so that we can find a suitable place for all of us to sleep is.
Will’s brows gather. “Are you sure? You look a little pale and your cheek is bleeding. Maybe you should sit for a minute.”
I am about to open my mouth and dismiss Will’s worries when June approaches and steps between he and I. “Let me take a look,” she says to me and sets about inspecting my cheek. “Oh, it’s fine. It’s just a little scratch. No big deal,” she comments casually then changes the subject completely. “I hate to be a pest, but shouldn’t we eat and start hiking?”
I am in awe of June’s tact, as well as her timing. I’m grateful that she has not only diverted the attention from my humiliating face-first fall into the tree but also appears to have read my thoughts exactly. I want to scoop her up and hug her, but settle for offering her a small, sly grin instead.
“Yes June. You’re right. That’s exactly what we should do. Thank you.” My thanks are more sincere than they seem on the surface. I hope I didn’t overemphasize the words as I spoke them. I don’t want Will to think I’m unappreciative of his concern. I am thankful. But I’m not accustomed to fusses being made over me. “I’ll hunt for some breakfast for us and we can get out of here,” I say to June then smile warmly at both she and Will. Animals have been easier to find farther away from our cave so hunting should not be an issue, a point that pleases me. In my condition, I doubt I could handle wandering too far, or worse, engaging in a lengthy chase.
June winks at me. “I’ll go see if Riley and Oliver want to help get a fire started so that when you come back, we’re ready to cook,” she says then turns and heads to where Riley is inspecting what appear to be fangs just a few spear lengths away. I assume they belonged to the bat that tried to descend on us during the night. Perhaps they did not. Either way, whatever creature they belonged to, the fangs are all that remain of it. The Lurkers took care of the rest.
Will stays behind and we are alone.
“Seriously, are you all right? You fell pretty hard,” he says softly.
I scrub my face with both hands. As I lower them I murmur, “I don’t know if I’m okay.”
Will takes a step toward me. “Then why don’t you sit. I’ll hunt and you can just, I don’t know, be still for the first time since I’ve met you.”
“Huh, I don’t know if I can do that,” I say. “And for the record, I didn’t fall exactly. I fell asleep. Is that technically falling? Maybe it is,” I ramble.
Will’s eyes widen. His expression is equal parts concern and sympathy. “You haven’t slept in days,” he says. “Not at the cave and not in the tree.”
“Nope. And the night before you came was the first time the Lurkers spent the night howling and hissing just beyond our boulder.”
“So for three nights you haven’t slept,” he says.
“Yes, that’s right,” I admit.
/> I watch as his lips press together tightly and form a line. I don’t know whether he is angry, scared or worried, or a mix of all three. My thoughts are too fuzzy and muddled to identify his expression. I decide to ask him flat out. Frankly, I am too tired to do anything else.
“Will, why do you look so mad? Are you mad or worried or something else? I’m too out of it to tell. Just make it easy for me and tell me, because when you stand there looking like that, it confuses and upsets me.”
I cannot believe I just said what I said. I was direct, blunt even. My lack of social skills is glaringly obvious. Candid words haphazardly rushed from me, and I worry I have offended Will. We’re linked together now. The last thing I want is to have a tense relationship with him. Allowing the first thing that comes to mind to heedlessly spill from my lips may have done just that.
A nervous moment passes between us, during which I contemplate attempting to smooth matters, knowing fully that doing so would likely be a debacle.
I am relieved when the corners of his mouth bend upward and a slow smile spreads across his face.
“Mad?” he asks. “Why in the world would I be mad?” Will is shaking his head.
I shrug. “I don’t know,” I answer and shift uncomfortably.
“Well I’m not mad. I’m worried. I want you to be well. You’ve done so much for me and my sister and brother. I want to help take care of you.”
Through the fogginess of my sleep-deprived confusion, I swear I heard him say he wants to help take care of me. I’m not positive, but I think he did say those words. I don’t know how to react to such a statement.
“Uh, thanks,” I say awkwardly. “That’s, uh, nice of you,” I add and bob my head. I probably look like a fool and know that my head is little more than a crimson blob with curly blonde hair attached to it. But I’m too tired to care.
“No problem,” he says.
A small stretch of silence spreads between us. He looks from me to the woods back to me then the children and back to me again.
“So, I guess I’ll go hunt,” I tell him when I cannot endure the self-consciousness I am feeling another second longer.
“Oh, no, you should stay here and rest,” he says and places a hand on my upper arm.
His touch is warm and pleasant. I want to close my eyes and savor it. I would likely fall asleep immediately again and collapse atop him so I do not dare.
“No, that’s okay. You’re tired too. You didn’t sleep the last two nights either,” I say.
“You haven’t slept in three nights. You have me beat,” he says.
And you watched both your parents die at the hands of Urthmen, I think to myself. The thought echoes in my brain so noisily that for a moment, I worry I spoke it aloud. I glance at Will to gauge his reaction. I see that he is still wearing a small smile and looking at me expectantly. I assume that if I had said what I thought, he would not look so serene.
“Fine. Whatever you say. I’m too beat to argue with you,” I say feebly.
“Good,” Will says and rubs my arm gently. The act makes goose bumps dot my flesh. His eyes lower to the roughened skin beneath his fingertips, and I realize that he notices them. “Are you cold?” he asks.
I step back, away from him. “No, I mean, yes. I uh, I just caught a chill. That’s all,” I fumble pathetically. I cannot tell him that every time my skin comes in contact with his I feel as if I am being covered in a blanket of pleasant tingles. Even in my exhaustion-induced stupor I know better than to admit that.
“Oh,” Will replies. His features are clouded by an expression I cannot name precisely. It is difficult to read faces when I have to concentrate so hard on not falling asleep or just falling in general. “As long as you’re okay,” he adds and smiles thinly.
“I’m fine,” I say and smile back at him. “I’ll go join the kids.”
“Okay. See you soon,” he says.
I start to walk toward the children when Will calls out to me.
“Avery!” he says my name with urgency.
I spin. The act makes me dizzy. “Yes?” I respond.
Will inhales and opens his mouth to speak but closes it immediately. He waves me off. “Never mind,” he says.
“Are you sure?” I ask him and am thoroughly confused.
He is acting strangely. I hope I haven’t done something to cause him to feel bad. He has lost his parents and is the sole guardian of his brother and sister. He’s come under attack from Urthmen and had Lurkers scratching and clawing to enter the cave June and I took him to. He’s had an extraordinarily awful few days. I don’t want to make matters worse.
“Yep,” he says. “I forgot what I wanted to say.”
“Oh, okay,” I say and take a step toward the children. I can’t shake the sense that he’s not telling me the truth, that he wanted to say something to me but changed his mind. I don’t know. Maybe it is just fatigue scrambling my brain. I let it go. “Be safe, Will. I’ll see you soon,” I say.
Will smiles then turns and takes off into the woods.
When he is out of sight, June rushes to my side.
“What did he say?” she asks. A mischievous twinkle sparkles in her eyes.
“Nothing. He forgot what he called me for,” I answer honestly.
“Right,” June purses her lips and draws out each sound in the word. “And you believe him?”
“Uh, yeah, I do,” I say.
“Okay, believe whatever you want to believe, but I think he wanted to tell you something important,” she persists.
“Oh yeah? And what might that be, my all-knowing sister?”
“I don’t know all that. He just had a look on his face like he had something to say.” Her singsong voice suggests she is implying Will intended to make some major declaration. I don’t know what ideas are rattling around in her head, but I cannot entertain any of them. I worry what she thinks is right, that maybe Will planned to part ways with us and tell me as much before he went hunting. I don’t want to tell her and upset her because I am unsure. Regardless, I can’t handle the thought of him finding me, us, so repugnant he’d rather take his chances with his siblings than continue with us.
“Yes, June, he did, and he forgot what it was,” I say to try to end the conversation.
“I don’t know,” June continues. “I think it was something more.”
“And I think you’re wrong,” I say snippily. I catch myself and soften my tone. “Will and I have not slept in days. He watched his parents die at the hands of Urthmen and is now responsible for his sister and brother,” I say. “I’m pretty sure all that entitles him to a little forgetfulness.”
June’s cheeks are streaked with bands of pink. “When you put it that way,” she starts. I hear a tremor in her voice and immediately feel guilty for being sharp with her at first.
“I’m sorry, June. I’m grumpy and tired and achy. You don’t deserve to have me act like a jerk. You’re going through all this with me.” I pull her toward me and hug her tightly. “Sorry.”
June hugs me back. Her arms wrap around my waist tightly before she drops them and steps back.
“I’d better get the fire started before Will gets back,” she says and smiles.
“I’ll help,” I offer.
The children and I light a small fire. Will returns shortly after and carries two rabbits by their feet. He and I skin and prepare the rabbits then roast them. We eat quickly then sip from our canteens. Once the fire is extinguished and any evidence of its existence has been cleared, we begin hiking in hopes of finding a final place to stay for the night.
As I walk, I feel as if I am slogging through deep mud. My legs are heavy and my muscles ache. Too little sleep in the last several days has caught up with me. Spending the night in the tree did not help matters. We managed to survive, therefore my goal was achieved, but in many ways I feel as if I’m a dead person walking. My arms feel disconnected and leaden, as if they belong to someone else entirely, and my eyelids shutter closed every few minutes.
I know that I can’t possibly spend another night in a tree. I do not have the strength to climb, much less keep June stable while clinging to branches. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that even if I somehow manage to make it high into a treetop and by some stroke of magnificent luck am able to steady June as we perch, I will fall asleep immediately and plummet to my death. No, the tree option is out of the question for tonight. That leaves me with few, if any, other choices. For the time being, however, I cannot focus on trees and places where we can’t stay. I must concentrate on getting us closer to the edge of the woods, to where weeds and wildflowers meet asphalt and concrete.
We walk for much of the day, pushing ourselves harder and faster than the day before, and stop only once to fill our canteens at a seasonal stream. The sky is a chalky blue and the sun’s rays are weak. A soft breeze stirs tall grasses and treetops. The air carried on it is cooler, less humid. I search the landscape for mossy ridges and rocky formations for a second day. I do not see either. I do notice, though, that some of the leaves are beginning to lose their rich green coloring. When the leaves change from shades of green to shades of red, orange and yellow, I know shorter, colder days will follow. By then I hope we are living in a safer environment, protected from the elements and no longer concerned with Lurkers. I do not know whether my hope will become a reality. I will do everything in my power to see it come to fruition.
In the distance, I see that a stone wall rises from the ground. It encircles a building also made of stone, but with ones that are more uniform in shape and size and colored a faded reddish hue. With steep roof pitches and a bell tower that looks as if it pierces the milky sky above, I feel as if the elaborate sprawling structure is familiar. I feel as if I have seen it before.
“Oh my goodness,” Riley inhales sharply then says.
“Whoa, what is that?” Oliver asks and points to the entire setup.
“A stone wall that protects a building,” I say absently as my eyes roam the length of the wall that is visible. They search my memory in time with my brain.
Planet Urth: The Savage Lands (Book 2) Page 3