by A. G. Henley
“They would have gone if we had asked them to,” Derain says. “Lorinyas, in Koolkuna, we do not kill the runa unless we must, as I told you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time one is chasing you down,” Moray says. “Let’s go get our spears, Cuda.”
There’s a repugnant tearing sound and another moan before the brothers return. We back away and hurry down the night-draped trail, leaving the sick ones behind.
We travel as far as we can in the gathering dark. By the time we stop, there isn’t enough light to gather wood and kindling for a fire. Amarina and Derain choose a spot beside the burbling stream and urge us to eat and rest.
I refill my water sack and throw down my bedroll. Peree lays his out beside me; I catch the familiar scent of our home as he spreads it out. Groping around in my sack of food, I find more dried meat and hard bread. Not appetizing, but edible. I take a few bites, a couple of long drinks of water, and slip inside the folds of my bedroll. Even though I haven’t had a full meal today, I don’t have much appetite.
I’m not crazy about the idea of sleeping beside the stream. Running water, even a small brook like this one, is noisy. The water jabbers, changing constantly, like it’s having a private conversation of its own. Or like it’s whispering. Maybe talking about us. The longer I listen, the more sinister it sounds. I can’t hear much else over it.
The farther away from the Myuna we travel, the less the water around us can be trusted. It will poison us, poison our minds, and make us believe things that aren’t true. What will we do when that happens? We are knowingly walking into madness.
I think of the sick ones, of how miserable they sound, and I shiver and pull the cloth up to my chin. Cool air seeps over from the stream, wrapping its damp arms around me until I can’t stop shaking.
“Want my extra shirt?” Peree asks.
“I’ll be okay. You wear it.” My teeth chatter as I speak.
“Fenn, take the shirt,” he says.
I give in. “Thanks.”
He scoots closer, lending his own body heat.
“You can warm my bedroll any time, sweetheart,” Moray says. “I won’t turn you away, even if you aren’t my type.”
“Shut up, Moray,” Peree says.
“Make me, Lofty."
“Please stop it,” I say wearily.
“Myall, I have heard you are a very good storyteller. Would you tell us one?” Amarina quickly asks.
“Thanks, but not tonight.” Peree still sounds annoyed. I locate his hand, kiss it, and hold it in mine.
As the night closes over us, I shut my eyes and listen hard. If the Sisters and the children are in the forest, they’re as silent as spirits.
“I have a story,” Kai says after a minute. “But it’s not about animals or flowers or other pretty things. It’s about the Sisters.”
Her voice rises, disembodied, out of the dark—flat, emotionless, distant—like she somehow floated away from the group. It reminds me of the ghostly voices I heard in my head when I was in that hole, suffering from dehydration, after being banished by Adder and the Council of Three.
“The Sisters call it Gathering, when they take the children. The one who came for me was young and so beautiful, so… exotic, that at first, I thought I’d imagined her,” Kai says. “Her face and hair were painted white, and she wore a short, leather dress and a bright feather tied to her waist. She captured me at the Myuna and took me away, deep into the forest, to the river and beyond, to their home. My father followed, but he couldn’t catch us.”
Only the water interrupts the hush of our little group.
“I lived with the other girls, training to fight with knives and staffs and spears. I wanted my father, and I missed my home, but they would not let me go, no matter how many times I asked. They told me I was lucky to be there.” Kai laughs, a hollow, haunted sound. “They said, ‘You are a daughter of the Fire Sisters, now.’”
The hair all over my body prickles as Kai tells her tale. Her voice is guarded, but it’s easy to hear the scared little girl she was. A girl maybe only a few years older than Kora.
“The Sisters wanted us to learn to defend ourselves above all else. We trained all day long. They gave us lessons in hunting and how to survive in the forest. In the evenings, if we had any strength left, we could play. But there weren’t any hugs or kisses or bedtime stories or love. Only training and sharp words and more training.”
Kai pauses so long I think she won’t say more.
Finally, Conda asks the question we’re all wondering. “So… what happened?”
“I escaped.”
Silence.
“That’s it? You escaped?” Moray says.
“No, that’s not it. It took me months to get back to Koolkuna. Months of… of freezing and starving and… suffering.”
She quiets again. There has to be more to the story, but it’s clear she’s not going to tell it tonight. If anyone else had shared something like that, I’d try to comfort them, but with Kai, it’s more likely to make things worse.
“I will keep watch tonight,” Derain eventually says.
I huddle into my bedroll and think of Kai as a girl in the hands of the Fire Sisters. What had she been like before they got to her? Was she much like my sweet, happy Kora? Kai hasn’t shown much love for me, but I hurt for the child she once was.
Although I’m exhausted from the emotional day, it’s hard to fall asleep. My feet throb, and my fingers sting with blisters from the walking stick. My hands used to be tougher, when I worked in the caves; they’ve already grown soft.
When I do sleep, I dream of a towering wall of fire.
Kora and the children are on the other side, begging for help, but there’s no way through. It burns hot and bright against my face and hands as I press toward it. Then, in the way of dreams, Kora’s voice changes, becoming older, bitterer. She sounds like Kai.
I try and try, but I can’t find my way through the flames. I can’t reach her. She’s lost.
Chapter Five
Derain wakes us well before dawn. I’m stiff and sore from lying on the ground, and the grit of sleeplessness irritates my eyes, but the worst is the cold. As the others begin to stir, I jump up and pace to get the feeling back in my feet.
Dizziness hits, I stagger… and accidentally stumble into someone still lying on the ground. Kai curses.
“Watch it, Fennel!” She mutters something about stupidity and clumsiness.
My cheeks burn. Was I really feeling sorry for her last night?
Peree puts an arm around me. “You okay?"
I push down the frustration and shrug.
He pecks me on the lips. “Have some breakfast.”
We share bread and a handful of nuts introduced to us by the anuna. Bear got us calling them knuckles because they’re around the same size and almost as hard. They leave an oily feel in my mouth, but they satisfy the stomach. We fill our water sacks again and get going.
As the group spreads along the trail, I walk in the back, practicing with my stick. Peree stays with me. The sun begins to rise, shooting spears of light through the towering greenheart trees. I wince every time I walk into a shaft. Even though I'm Sightless, it still hurts my eyes. The birds wake, too, although instead of cheerful, their songs sound urgent, like they’re pushing us to hurry.
We’ve lost a lot of time that we need to make up today. Where are the Fire Sisters and the children? Have they left any way to trace them? How are the women treating the children? Kora and the others must be so frightened. It's painful to think about.
The hunting trail seems to continue to wind through the woods. The greenheart branches around us scrape against each other, shaking their leaves. The trail rises and falls, but it feels like we’re moving gently downhill. Amarina and Derain keep us at a fast clip, which doesn’t make my life any easier, but I don’t complain. None of us says much at all.
We stop after a few hours for a meal of salted meat and bread, with a few berries De
rain found thrown in for variety, then we’re back on the trail. We don’t pause again until mid-afternoon, when Amarina finally gives us a real rest. There’s been no sign of the Sisters. It seems we’re alone in the woods with the trail, the trees, and the birds.
I stand on the dusty path, rolling my sore ankles one way, and then another. From the groans of the others, I’m not alone in feeling the effects of hours and hours of walking. My water sack is almost empty again, so I hobble over to the trickling stream to refill it.
“Quiet!” Bear hisses. I freeze, and the others go silent. “There’s something out there, in the woods… ground fowl!”
The trail erupts with movement. From the pounding feet, it sounds like half the group leaps over the stream and dashes into the woods. Someone hoots as they go. Ground fowl are plump, juicy, and good eating. We might have a decent dinner tonight if they catch one.
I finish filling my sack, take a drink, find my stick, and start strolling down the path again.
“Mirii?” Amarina must not have joined the chase.
“I'm just going to explore ahead a little.”
“Don’t go far,” Derain warns.
Moving slow, sweeping my stick in front of me, I manage to stay on the trail. A hill rises under my feet; I tap my way up to the top. The sun warms my body, helping my sore muscles relax, and a light breeze clears my head. It’s good to be alone, even if it’s only for a few minutes.
The organic scent of a water source rides the wind. Are we finally getting close to the River Restless? I breathe in again, but instead of what might be the river, I catch something else—an abrasive odor that makes my nose wriggle.
I’ve smelled this before, yesterday in the clearing, then forgot all about it. My body tenses. Could this be the Sisters’ scent? Have they been here? Wait—are they near now? Should I warn the others? No, I’m sure it’s only a scent trail. If we already caught up to the Sisters, they’d be shooting at us.
I decide to follow my nose. Not far, only a few steps. It leads me over the crest of the hill and toward the tree line on the side of the trail where the others yell to each other in the forest. I step over the stream, into the shade of the trees… and fall.
Not a stumble or a trip—a head-over-heels, arms and legs cartwheeling, straight down a hill-that-never-ends tumble. My teeth snap together on my tongue, and my knee knocks my forehead. My walking stick goes airborne, and I bounce lightly off what must be a tree trunk before sliding to a stop. I yell out in pain.
When the fog in my head finally clears, I hear the others running to me, surrounding me. I sit up, grimacing. My tongue throbs; the salty taste of blood fills my mouth, and my back stings where it scraped the tree. Wincing, I spit.
“Fenn, are you okay? Is anything broken?” Peree’s voice is by my ear, as if he’s squatting next to me.
“You went down hard.” Sympathy pulls on Bear’s voice.
Oh no. Did they all see it? If so, I won’t hear the end of it.
Sure enough, Cuda snickers. “Never knew the Sightless could fly.”
Someone laughs, sounding like they’re trying hard not to crack up. When Kai snorts, too, my shame is complete. I decide to beat them to it—I burst out laughing. After a second, the others join in, all except Peree.
“Can you stand?” He sounds concerned.
“I think so.”
He helps me up. Amarina and Derain walk to us, their feet crunching on the ground.
“Are you alright, Mirii?” Amarina asks. Moray enjoys the retelling of what happened to me a little too much.
Someone gives me my walking stick, and I take stock of my injuries. Painful and humiliating, but not life or limb threatening. My hand flies to my sore mouth as I suddenly remember why I fell down the hill to begin with.
“The Fire Sisters! I think I smelled them.” I explain how I noticed the acrid scent back in Koolkuna and picked it up again at the top of the hill.
“Do you think they’re here now?” Conda asks. Everyone goes quiet, probably looking around.
“I didn’t hear anything before I fell.”
Peree supports me on our way back up the hill. I sniff the air again at the top.
“I don’t smell it now,” I say. “Anyone else? It was kind of biting. I think you’d notice it.”
“Nope,” Moray says.
“Nothing,” Bear says.
“Are you sure you smelled something?” Kai asks. Or was it a lie to cover your ridiculous fall? she doesn’t say.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” If my voice were any sharper, the air around my face would shatter.
I know I smelled it, and if it’s the Sisters’ scent, it will help me track them.
After all, I need to find something useful to do other than providing laughs for Kai, Moray, and the brothers.
Chapter Six
We return to collect our packs and move on down the trail, staying close together this time. Everyone is quiet, watchful.
The sun’s diving in the sky, and we still haven’t reached the Restless. Derain says we should be there before nightfall, if not sooner. The anuna have been that far, but not much farther, in their hunts. They don’t need to roam. Animals, like boar and even the rare predator, often come to them, thanks to the pure Myuna.
“Are you positive you’re okay?” Peree whispers—again. I’ve said repeatedly that I’m not injured, but he doesn't seem to believe me.
“Other than worrying about the children and wondering if we’re going to catch up with them, you mean?” Every time I think of Kora and the others, it’s like being jabbed with a spear.
“Not only that. You seem really tense since you fell.”
I can’t pretend I don’t know what he means. My hand tightens in his. “I hate feeling so… so uncoordinated and helpless.”
I even hate that word.
“You aren’t helpless, Fenn. Far from it. That scent you picked up could really help us out. You’re doing great.”
I half-smile toward him. “Thanks, but the scrapes, bruises, and the echoing sound of laughter sort of convinces me otherwise.”
“About that… Why did you laugh at yourself? It was a bad fall, and you could have been really hurt. Why did you encourage them?”
A lump forces its way into my throat. “I guess I wanted to be the first one to laugh instead of the last, you know?”
He kisses my temple. “Don’t. Stand up to Moray and Kai when they’re being jerks.”
“Sometimes, I don’t have the energy.”
But I know he’s right. It took me years to learn to navigate the forest with confidence at home . I was usually covered in cuts and bruises from all my trips and spills. Other children made fun of me, and I worked hard to forget how that felt. Kai and the others are bringing it all back now.
“What can I do to help? Rough ‘em up?” Peree asks.
I consider. “Hmm… hunt around for some crampberries, and I’ll put them in their tea tonight.”
He groans. The god-awful smell of the berries we used to help find our way through the caves is impossible to forget. Accidentally eat one, and you’ll learn the hard way how they got their name.
“Good plan.” He touches the back of my hand to his stubbly cheek.
“What is it?” I ask as we pause at the top of yet another hill.
“I can see the Restless.”
I listen hard and taste the breeze blowing into my face. A faint scent of water stands out.
“It’s only a sliver,” Peree says, “but it’s there. C’mon.”
He’s quiet as we descend the hill, clearly focused on what's ahead. The rest of the group must see it, too; murmurs of river and water run between them. After a few smaller dips and climbs on the trail, everyone stops again.
Peree leans close. “We’ve got a good view now. It’s a lot bigger than the Myuna, and even wider than our water hole at home, although I can still see the other side. The water’s muddy, definitely not as clear as the Myuna. And it runs fast.”
&
nbsp; I hear it—a constant rushing sound, like a storm blowing in through the forest, frenzying the leaves. My nostrils flare, catching intriguing new smells now. There’s the mildew I’d expect around any body of water, but also florals, bitter greens, rotting wood, and an unpleasant gassy stench. My nose wrinkles.
He goes on. “It curves, like… like… a shed snake skin or something. Have you felt a shed before?”
“I had a little brother, remember?”
A painful jolt runs through me. Eland brought Aloe and me his finds in the forest all the time: perfectly round birds’ nests lined with a soft, feathery fuzz; live frogs, smooth and still wet from the water hole, their bodies expanding and contracting with each anxious breath; the fragile perfection of an egg; the undigested fur and feathers of owl droppings; fresh greenheart seed pods of all sizes. And snake sheds. He was fascinated by it all.
I blink back a few tears as we start forward again. “How much of the river can you see?”
“A good amount. The forest lines both sides, though, so when the river turns, the trees block the view.”
The rushing sound grows as walk, eventually drowning out the soft flow of the stream next to our hunting trail. We leave the shadows of the forest, and walk up and over one last mound covered in tall grasses that tickle my knees.
I know we’re close when my feet begin to squelch with every step, sinking into soggy ground. Aloe’s cane guides me to the edge. I move cautiously, remembering the underground river in the caves. If I fall in, I have a feeling I’d be well downstream in an instant. I stoop down to trail my hand in the water. It’s cold enough that my fingers start to numb.
The Restless murmurs to itself, inarticulate but determined, as if it has urgent business downstream and grave secrets to keep. Did Kora and the other children stand here, too? I wonder again how the Sisters control them—how they keep them from crying or screaming or running away. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. I sniff the air, trying to catch the Sisters’ harsh scent. All I get is damp earth.
“So we’re here. Which way now, Kai?” Moray raises his voice to be heard.