by Alia Hess
“Okay, we don’t want no trouble. We know you are only joking. Touching lady visitors would be good way to get fired, huh?” Sasha said.
Halfmoon rubbed his double chin. “You think so? Maybe accepting bribes from visitors and Elder Quietbird is a bad idea too. Maybe I should stop doing that and just treat you like the scum you are.” He yanked Sasha forward by the collar.
Sasha squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sour sweat and body odor. This guy could break me in half. He could pick me up and chuck me into the ocean. Squeeze the life out of me with one hand. He trembled as Halfmoon ran his rough hands over his chest and waist, then turned out his jean pockets. Vomit rose in his throat and he swallowed it.
The hands fell away and Sasha opened his eyes. Halfmoon grabbed Corvin by the arm and ran a hand over his shirt sleeve.
Don’t freak out, Corvin. Don’t freak out.
Wide-eyed and pale, Corvin locked eyes with Sasha, holding his gaze as the guard frisked him. Was that razor still in Corvin’s pocket? If so, they were done for. He didn’t want to break eye contact in case that tiny thread of support was the only thing holding Corvin together.
Pulse pounding in his temple, Sasha held his breath as Halfmoon reached Corvin’s pockets. He turned them out. Several somethings fell into the sand, but Sasha couldn’t tell what they were from his periphery.
“What are these?” Halfmoon held the items to Corvin’s face.
“D-drawing charcoal. And fish teeth.”
Halfmoon shook his head and dropped them. “Where’s Sharkguts?”
“What?” Corvin somehow blanched even more, and sweat stood out on his brow.
Eaten by his own kind, that’s where. Sasha pulled the collar of his polo shirt higher up his neck to hide his stitches.
“You know him. Saw you guys talking to him a while back. He’s missing. Where’d he go?” Halfmoon asked.
Corvin gave him one of his ghastly plastic smiles and laughed.
Sasha cringed and hoped his trembling wasn’t visible. He opened his mouth to feign ignorance, but Corvin said, “That guy. He’s crazy, you know. Wanted us to go with him.”
Halfmoon’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Go where?”
“Escape. He said he was a strong swimmer. W-wanted us to come along. He was—was—” Corvin glanced at Sasha, then wiped his forehead. “He planned to go the Mainland once he got off this beach. But said he didn’t know how the Mainland worked or where the cities were. Wanted us to come because we’re Mainlanders, see.”
Sasha nodded frantically. “Yeah, but we tell him to get lost. Swimming away from here is crazy idea. He got mad and don’t talk to us again.”
“Why didn’t you tell a guard?” Halfmoon asked.
“We did not think he would really do. But if he is missing…” Sasha shrugged.
“Hmm.” Halfmoon’s face scrunched, resembling a clenched fist. “Let’s hope for your sakes there’s evidence of that.” He turned and took a step, then paused. “No more food or shit from home is gonna get to you. I’m tired of seeing it, bribes or no bribes.”
After the guard disappeared up the strand, Sasha retrieved the drawing charcoal, brushing away sand. Corvin took it with a trembling hand and put it back in his pocket.
“That was good lie,” Sasha whispered.
Corvin clutched himself. “He’s not going to find any evidence. Unless it’s evidence of Sharkguts’ death. He’ll keep questioning us until we crack.”
“We just stick to this story and it will be okay. They can’t punish us for talking to a guy who escaped.”
“Sure they could. They could do anything they wanted to us. And he threatened to assault Dewbell! I think we should get rid of everything from home. And no more food.”
Home comforts and food were the only things keeping Corvin semi-sane. Sasha frowned and patted his shoulder. “I will help.”
12
~ Pink ~
Rosy light peeked through the seams of the cone tent and voices drifted from outside, but Owl squeezed her eyes shut again and snuggled down into her sleeping bag. Her nose and ears ached from the cold and she wasn’t looking forward to climbing out of the bag to dress, but they needed to get a move on. Catching up to the wolfmen quickly not only meant getting back home sooner and freeing Corvin and Sasha, but getting those children away from those awful swindlers. She tried not to think too hard about how they were being treated—ramping up her anxiety would just make the trek torturous and quite possibly make her do something rash when they finally found them. She’d have to watch Dusty. The girl wasn’t impulsive, but she was passionate, especially when it came to saving orphans, and being pregnant had compounded her emotions.
A yawn from nearby made her open her eyes and roll over. Dusty sat on a cot, lacing her boots. Owl rubbed her face and begrudgingly slid out of her bag, braving the chill to remove her shirt and don a new one. “You still have paint stuck to your belly?”
“No.” Dusty pulled her laces taught. “I scrubbed all of that pink off of me.”
Owl eyed Dusty’s coat, laying next to her. “Can’t stand the color, huh?”
“That’s Sasha pink. Not… baby girl pink.” Dusty scowled. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you’re giving me that look of yours.”
“What look? I have a look?”
Dusty shrugged on her coat and zipped it up. “Yeah. That look you give people when they’re being an idiot. Never seen you give it to me, though.”
“You’re not an idiot.” Owl pulled on her jeans and sighed. “You just don’t know how it feels to have a kid yet. It changes you. For me, it was like… my life didn’t even begin until I had my child. I’m not trying to say your life is unfulfilling the way it is, but I think once the baby is born, you won’t believe that you could have ever felt upset about being a mother.”
Dusty stuffed her hands in her pockets and stared at the deer skin gracing the floor. “You think so?”
“I know so. Do you look back on the time before you met Sasha and wonder how you existed without him?”
She nodded and gave Owl a shy smile. “Sometimes.”
“Well, you’ll feel that ten times stronger with your child.” Son of Owl’s chubby, inquisitive face surfaced in her mind, his little hands smeared with dirt as he held out a worm in the garden. A lump formed in Owl’s throat.
“I’m just worried that I’m not going to do a good job. I’m worried I’ll be a horrible mother.”
“What mistake are you afraid you’ll make? Give me an example. Worst case scenario.”
Dusty looked around the tent. “Well… my parents sold me when I was five because they couldn’t afford to feed me. I think they probably thought they were doing me a favor, but…”
Owl sat on the cot next to Dusty and leaned back. “Okay. So say you don’t have any food or money. Are you going to sell your baby?”
“No! I would never do that.”
“What would you do instead?”
“I guess, I’d probably ask Dewbell for help.”
“Would she help you?”
“Yeah. Of course. It’s Dewbell.”
Owl smiled. “And not only would she help, I bet she’d bring food to your house and insist on babysitting while you and Sasha spent some time on the beach or something. So, that worst case scenario isn’t that bad, huh? Problem solved. What else are you worried about?”
She stared at her shoes, face gloomy. “I’m worried I’m going to get frustrated. What if the baby cries in the night, and I’m really tired?”
“That’s going to happen a lot. I spent quite a few nights in a rocking chair, dozing off as I fed Son of Owl. I’d wake up and not know how long I’d been asleep, but he’d be asleep too with milk running down his chin. And I bet Sasha would bring the baby to you so you don’t even have to get out of bed. He’ll help you. I know he will.”
“But what if we need more help? What if we’re both tired and frustrated?”
“Then I’ll help you. Promise. Anytime you need a break, you tell me.”
She smiled. “Okay. I actually feel a lot better now. But if I get worried about something else, can we do this again? You can talk me through it?”
“Of course.” Owl hugged her. “And whether it’s a girl or a boy, the baby will grow up just fine with you as a mom. We don’t live in some poverty-stricken area of Hammerlink, or in Old World ruins. We live on Nis and things are pretty safe there, even more so than they were when I first arrived. Everyone knows each other. There aren’t vicious animals or highwaymen or Bosses.”
Dusty nodded, then lifted up the hem of her coat, peering at her stomach. “I’m going to start thinking hard about girl names. And how to prepare for the baby once we’re back home.”
Owl grinned, relief flooding her chest. “That sounds good. And if you want some support when you tell Sasha, or—”
“Dusty! Owl!” Dorhn’li barged into the tent, then quickly retreated. “Oh, sorrah. Ya go’ clothes, yeah?”
Owl chuckled. “Yes, we’re dressed.”
Dorhn’li lifted the flap and grinned. “Hey, Ah’m rea’go. Ya too?”
“Yeah.” Dusty glanced at Owl. “Let’s go save some kids.”
October 21, 156—We’ve been walking for three days. The forest is starting to thin out now that we’re heading farther south. We can see snowy mountains in the distance, and we’ll come across buildings from time to time, mostly log cabins, but we also saw the remnants of a road and a crumbling gas station. Gentlewave sticks really close to Dusty, and any time she gets cranky or hot-headed about something, he gently tries to coax her to calm down and not stress out. I think his hugs might irritate her even more, but she takes them without complaining.
October 24, 156—Most of the forest is behind us now. We’ve seen a couple of farms and some more Old World buildings. We found some wheel marks in the dried mud that were probably made by the wolfmen, which was exciting because we might be closer to them than we thought.
Owl walked with her eyes shut, the breeze rustling the hood of her cloak and sun warming her face. Her boots crunched on cracked asphalt and a raven cawed in the distance. In her mind, Trav was by her side, his own hood concealing his face and his long blond braid hanging down his chest. He wore eyeblack, smeared around his eyes and running down his cheeks like tear trails. Numerous bags, pouches, and belts slapped at his sides, and a hatchet hung from the loop on his pants. He would have something in his pocket for her—a scuffed teddy bear with loose joints, a magazine, or maybe a ring.
There would be something in the distance, a building perhaps, and she’d ask him what he thought it was. Trav would squint, creating crows feet around his icy eyes, then frown and rifle through his pockets, pulling out his spectacles. He’d slide them onto his face, the thick lenses in their handmade wire frame magnifying his eyes two-fold and turning his strong, intimidating face soft and downright adorable.
Maybe later they would hole up in some suburban home, in a bedroom with collapsed furniture and sagging window blinds. She’d sit in the dust on the ancient carpet and write in her journal by candlelight, taking peeks at Trav as he flipped through an old paperback, the light setting his pale hair aglow and highlighting his strong features. He’d catch her looking and smile—that kind smile that made her weak in the knees and assured her that everything would always be okay.
“Owl?”
She opened her eyes. Dorhn’li stared at her, his creased brow wrinkling the multitude of freckles on his forehead. “Ya go’ lotsa thoughts inna, yeah?” He tapped her head and smiled.
“Yeah. Just thinking. About my luckyman.”
“Ah. Miss ‘im?”
“Yes.”
Dorhn’li shrugged off his fur coat and gestured to Dusty, Mothwing, and Gentlewave, walking the road slightly ahead. “But ya go’ frien’ere.”
“Yes, I do have my friends. How come you don’t have a luckywoman, Dorhn’li?”
Dorhn’li’s mouth pulled to one side. “Eh, Ah go’ bad, Owl. Go’ luckywoman, but then Ah seein’other woman’n’ like ‘er too.”
“You betrayed your consort.”
Dorhn’li looked at his moccasins sheepishly. “Now all’a women mad a’me. Mebbe Ah go’ luckywoman later.”
“Your luckywoman won’t forgive you?”
“Nah. Ah sorrah, but she go’ new luckyman.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. “S’mah fault.”
Ahead, a grassy meadow stretched toward the horizon, tall, yellow-green grasses quivering in the breeze. Jagged pastel peaks laden with snow rose in the distance, scratching the rim of the cloudless sky.
Dorhn’li cocked his head, squinting into the meadow. He left the buckled asphalt and headed into the grass. His stride became a sprint, his pack and quiver of arrows slapping against his back.
“Dorhn’li?”
The others ahead stopped and turned. Dusty said, “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he sees something? A new sign of the wolfmen?”
Owl and Dusty followed Dorhn’li into the meadow. He sank onto his knees, his face twisted with disgust as he touched something concealed in the high grass.
Gentlewave let go of Mothwing’s hand. “What is it?”
Dorhn’li looked up, his blue eyes burning and black teeth bared. He gestured to the thing in the grass. It was an animal, quite a few days dead judging by the smell, and likely a youngling. White ripples cut patterns through its mahogany fur, and its long, bony legs ended in cloven hooves. Blood and flies covered the creature’s graceful, arching neck.
“S’a koya. Babe koya.” Dorhn’li scowled and pointed to the animal. Its big glazed eyes, adorned in downy lashes, stared vacantly. “Ah, no!” He hurried through the grass, collapsing next to a large form.
“Another one?” Mothwing asked.
Owl bent to the baby koya and ran a hand across the soft fur of its distended belly, disturbing the flies, then followed the others to Dorhn’li. This koya was much bigger, complex patterns of white running across the powerful muscles of its legs and neck. Ragged ribbons of rotting flesh hung from its chest. She put a hand to her nose to ward off the smell.
Dorhn’li pointed to two bloody black nubs protruding from its head. “Ya see? Wolfmen took’a horns.”
Gentlewave sighed. “Any way to make a profit is okay with them, I’m sure.” He bent to the animal. “Looks like they killed it with a rifle.”
Mothwing frowned. “Capturing children and poaching innocent animals. Disgusting. I’m not the violent sort, but the more I hear about these guys, the more I want to ring their necks.”
Dorhn’li stood and turned in a circle. He made a strange noise in his throat and tugged on his red braids. Other forms, some large and some small, lay scattered through the grass. His chest heaved, multiple bead necklaces clicking together, then he turned to Owl, nostrils flared. “S’nah right.”
Owl scanned the slaughtered animals in the meadow, throat constricting. “No. It’s not.”
She’d always treated the sheep and cows on her childhood farm kindly. Butchering them had been necessary, and the meat never went to waste. This complete disregard for life made her want to throttle the wolfmen as well.
If they act this way to these beautiful creatures, how do they treat the children? Do they beat them? Lock them in cages in their wagon? Are they even fed? How are we going to rescue them?
They’d discussed trying to reason with the wolfmen, but the closer they got, the more it seemed like that wasn’t going to work, and keeping her anxiety at bay was becoming increasingly difficult.
Owl gave Dorhn’li a squeeze around the shoulders. “This is awful. Let’s not look at it anymore. C’mon.”
Dorhn’li’s lip curled and he wiped his nose, then turned back for the road. “Ah’m go’ kill’m.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gentlewave replied. “We don’t even know if the wolfmen did this.”
Pointing to the trampled grass and wheel marks, Dorhn’li spat a sentence too accented for Owl to understand. He continued talking and Gentlewave frowned and nodded.
Gentlewave said, “He says he’s been this far before and knows the farmers and ranchers in this area wouldn’t do this. Some of them have… domesticated koya, right?”
Dorhn’li nodded. “Farm nah go’ killin’ wild koya. Wolfmen.” He quickened his pace, marching down the road. They caught up with him and he thrust out his arm, pointing to the colorful bangles around his wrist. “Ya see’m?”
Owl nodded.
“S’koya horn. Maralti take a’horn too, but kill’m fah meat, nah fah horns. Deer n’moose too.”
“I understand. Those koya are pretty. Or, well, I bet they are when they’re alive. I’ve never seen them before.”
“S’good beast. S’nah right what’a wolfmen do. Ah’m go hunt wolfmen n’make’a brac’lets too.” He slapped his bangles. “Fro’ a’ bones.”
Gentlewave sighed. “I know all of our emotions are high, and seeing all the slaughtered animals”—he gestured to the dark heaps in the meadow—“is making it worse. But we have to be level-headed about this. We can’t just storm the wolfmen, guns blazing. Are they scum? Yes. And I will be more than happy to hold them down so you guys can take turns kicking them in the ribs, but we need to get Auth’ni safe first. If we attack, what if Auth’ni gets caught in the crossfire and is killed? Or what if the wolfmen kill him?”
Dusty scowled and folded her arms. “So what do you propose we do? You still thinking we should just ask them if they will pretty please give the kid back?”
“Dewbell gave me a lot of tins before we left, just in case we needed them for something. I’m beginning to doubt we can reason with these guys, but money is more charismatic than I’ll ever be.”
“What about the others?” Dusty asked. “The other Maralti boy and the little girl? We have to save them too. And if they’re selling to collectors, I doubt we’ll have enough money. I think it would be better for us to just attack.”