by A. G. Henley
She gets me thinking that my own childhood, being Sightless, and then becoming the Water Bearer, have done the same for me. I’m not like Aloe, but that doesn’t mean I’m not strong. Strength doesn’t only come with years of experience and wisdom, or packaged in a muscle-wrapped body like Moray’s. There’s strength in the finest cobweb, the lowliest ant, the determined cries of a newborn. There’s power in a shared meal, words of support, or a touch freely given and received. Strength and power are inside all of us; it’s our job to find it and give it expression.
Derain and Amarina decide we will stay in the trees as long as we can to avoid the ants, the sick ones, and anyone else who might be out here. I agree with them; we need to avoid trouble and get back to Koolkuna fast, especially with the children.
But—that first night in the trees, I can understand why the Sisters used the sting on them. Excited to be returning home, enthused to be with their parents or at least away from the Cloister, they all talk nonstop, until adrenaline and fatigue eventually wears them out. I’m sitting with Kora and Darel as darkness falls over us, helping Derain get them to sleep. I rub Darel’s back in soothing circles; he sucks his thumb softly, rhythmically.
“Papa?” Kora whispers. “I did something bad.”
“What did you do, love?”
“I… I lost Bega.” Her voice crumples. “When the Sisters took us; I dropped her. And now she’s probably found a new mama.”
I hear Derain rummaging around somewhere, and Kora cries out, startling Darel, who was finally dropping off. I smooth his back to settle him.
“Bega! I missed you so much!” Kora says.
I dig into my own my pack. When my hand comes to what I’m searching for, I hold it out to her.
“I brought a friend for Bega. This is my doll, Spruce. She’d like you to be her new mama. Will you, please?”
“Yes!” Kora cries. “I’ll take extra special good care of both of them! Bega, this is your sister, Spruce. Don’t worry; Bega will tell you all about Koolkuna and the anuna when we get home.”
No doubt. I chuckle.
Kora and Darel fall asleep, and I tiptoe over to where I left Peree with Thrush. He calls to me softly to give me something to aim for. I sit, leaning into his arms and soaking in the warmth of his body. We didn’t make a fire tonight—no sense burning the wooden walkways down around our ears—so it’s dark and chilly. But with his body wrapped around mind, cozy, too.
We don’t speak at first, allowing Thrush to fall asleep. When I hear the boy’s breathing become deep and regular, I sigh.
“I can’t believe we’re finally going back to Koolkuna. With the children,” I whisper.
Peree kisses my cheek, allowing his lips to linger on my skin, whispering against me as he speaks.
“It feels like months since we left.” He pauses. “Do you… do you still want to have the partnering ceremony, when we get there?”
“Yes, but, Peree, the possibility of becoming a parent scares me. I don’t think I’m ready for children yet.” I don’t know how I would’ve survived if we’d had a child and the Sisters had taken it. Kora, Darel, and Thrush were bad enough.
“I know what you mean.” His arms tighten around me. “Having doubts then?”
His tone is light, but I hear the seriousness behind his question.
“Not about you or us. I just want to spend some time with you, as a couple. I want to find our places in Koolkuna, figure out what we can contribute. I want to be with you without fires, fights, kidnappings, or deaths. Or children for a while.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know. We don’t have such a good record. Disaster seems to follow us.”
“Then that will be our first priority when we get back. No disasters. Safety. Normalcy. Sound good?”
“Yeah, it does.”
His low laugh sends lightning bolts of desire through my veins. I lean forward, breathing him in. Wings flap rhythmically overhead, an owl hunting. The moon spreads a thin blanket of light over us as our lips meet, soft and slow.
Since the first few days of our relationship, I’ve been sure of one thing. Being together with Peree feels utterly right, even when everything else in my life goes wrong. He treats me with kindness and respect, and he believes in me even when I don’t believe in myself.
If that isn’t the basis for a deep and lasting love, I’m not sure what is.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The good weather holds as we pass along the River Restless, moving through the treetops. But we have other problems.
One of the girls we rescued is confused and frightened by all the change, and we can’t get her to eat or drink for the first day. Ellin finally persuades her.
The platforms become too degraded to walk safely, and we have to move to the ground. Thrush is so excited to be beside an actual river that he slips into the water, floundering and hollering. Bear jumps in and fishes him out, and they both freeze for hours until they dry. I really need to teach the Lofties how to swim.
Derain’s hand and ribs are still not well, so we all end up carrying Darel, passing him around like a sack of grain as he catches naps. It’s a challenge I welcome. To be able to carry Darel, or hold Kora’s hand and listen to her chatter as we walk, is incredibly satisfying. The Sisters may have convinced me I’m not ready for my own children yet, but I’m thrilled to spend time with other people’s. Especially these two.
The broken bridge over the river slows us down, but Bear and the brothers repair it so we can cross safely. We make good time along the other side, eventually passing the abandoned shelters that Bear spotted on the way to the Cloister
“Alev,” I say, shifting Darel from one arm to the other. “Grimma told us you’d traveled. Are there other people out here? I mean, I’ve heard about wanderers, but are there other communities besides the ants, the Sisters, and us?”
“Oh, Mother Asis, yes. From the coast of the Shivering Sea, to the plains, and to the hills where your own village lies. And like Grimma said, there seem to be fewer of the sick ones, as you call them. We all may see more and more of other communities as they begin to venture out.”
I agree with her. That was one of the reasons I thought the alliance with the Fire Sisters could be useful to the anuna. I like to find the best in people, but I’m not naive enough to believe that all people are reasonable and good. There will be those who might see Koolkuna—and especially the Myuna—as an opportunity, a juicy fruit that they will want to pluck for themselves. I think we can trust Alev, but I even worry a little about showing it to her.
I believe the anuna will need to learn to protect themselves and their resources, not so they can hoard them, but so they can continue to share what they have with as many as possible. And the Sisters know a thing or two about protecting themselves.
“How have you avoided the sick ones in your travels?” I ask her.
“I’m a very skilled climber,” she says, laughing.
Bear talks with Alev often, too, when he’s not spending time with Kai. His voice grows noticeably more animated as Alev tells him of her travels, the strange people she’s seen and how they live. I have a good idea where it’s leading.
“When will you leave?” I ask Bear the afternoon we say goodbye to the Restless and join the narrow hunting path through the forest that will lead us back to Koolkuna.
“Are you that ready to get rid of me?” He laughs, but he doesn’t ask me what I mean, which is all the confirmation I need that my suspicions are correct.
I slide a hand around his bicep, as I’ve done thousands of times before. Touching my old friend feels more natural again, the way it did when we younger, before he started acting strange around me, treating me differently. Before the Summer Solstice celebration and the dance that we never shared.
“No!” It hurts to even think about him not being around anymore, not knowing where he is or what’s happened to him. Maybe never seeing him again. He’s my only connection to home. “I don’t know what I’ll do withou
t you.”
“I’m not going away forever! I just want to do some exploring. See what’s and who’s out there. What Alev describes is like one of Peree’s tales; I want to make it real. I figured, you know, I might be able to learn things that could help Koolkuna. Bring back information, improvements, like Alev wants to do for the Cloister.”
My chest loosens. “That’s a relief. I thought maybe you wanted to live somewhere else, like Frost. That maybe Koolkuna wasn’t what you’d hoped it would be.”
“That’s not it at all. I just think I’d like to see some of the world before I settle down. It was never an option before. Now it is.” He coughs, sounding embarrassed. “Kai… she might come with me.”
A grin slides onto my face. “You sly fox. You’ve made that much progress already?”
“We aren’t partnering or anything; we’re only friends. But it’d be good to have company.”
I can’t say I’m surprised: they’ve been talking a lot the last few days. When I think about it, they could be good for each other. Kai has the strength, and the vulnerability, that Bear seemed attracted to in me. And if anyone can draw her out of her protective shell, it’s him and his perpetual good humor and patience. Time will tell if love can grow in the sandy soil between them.
The sun has long set as we walk the final distance of the hunting trail. We thought about making camp, but we’re all too excited about being almost back to Koolkuna to stop now. So we light torches and press on. The children know we’re close, too; they flit around us like swarms of swallows.
Peree and I are at the back of the group as usual—my place in the traveling pecking order it seems, not that I mind anymore—when I hear and smell something behind us that sends shards of ice racing through my limbs.
Groans, and the sounds of running steps, echo through the quiet forest, coming closer. The foul odor of human waste makes me gag. My hand flies to the nearly healed bite at my neck.
Peree whirls to face them. His arm slides out of my hand as he pulls an arrow from his quiver with an audible zip. The shrieks of the sick ones are somewhere between rage and anguish.
“Don’t shoot, Peree!” I think fast. “Everyone, drop your packs! Drop your packs, grab a child, and run! Take shelter in the old buildings up ahead if you have to, but go!”
Packs thud to the ground and feet begin to slam down the trail. Some of the children cry and whine, but their voices fade quickly as the adults haul them off.
Peree stays put. I grab his arm and shake him.
“You have to go, too, Peree. Go before they get here. I’ll hold them off. Run!”
He curses with frustration, but he doesn’t argue. He sprints away.
Panic sizzles along my skin. We’ve all been drinking the poisoned water of the Restless and the Cloister for days, weeks. We can’t have come this far to lose someone to the sickness. But only I can hold them off.
The sick ones scream; they’re almost here. I swing my own pack off and hold it out to them.
“Stop! I have food and water. I can help you. Stop here!” Please, please let them understand me.
They encircle me, their stench making me faint. I clench my pack like it’s Bear’s rabbit foot, a talisman to protect me. In a flash, I’m reliving that first day as the Water Bearer. Naïve and uncertain. Helpless and weak. Sightless.
No.
I shake my head, clearing it, and instead hold close the memory of the last few months of my life.
I kept my people alive in the caves by collecting the water. Peree and I led as many as we could to the safety of Koolkuna. We brought the children home from the Cloister—almost. I’ve faced the Scourge again and again and survived. I can do this.
The creatures shift around me, breathing their hot breath in my face. So close, but not touching me.
“Do you want food?” My voice quivers, and my arm, holding the pack, shakes. “Are you hungry?”
The moans grow more frantic.
Trying not to touch them, I gesture behind me toward what I hope are the packs and the remaining food the Sisters gave us. “Take anything you need. It’s yours.”
My muscles are tight and my mouth is dry as crumbled leaves, but I keep still, waiting.
Slowly, my pack is lifted out of my hand.
Footsteps shuffle past me, toward the other packs. Things are tossed to the ground with soft thumps. I catch the sounds of biting, chewing, swallowing. They understood me.
“Eat,” I say. “As much as you want.”
And they do. They listen.
I’m desperate to get on the trail back to Koolkuna, but will the sick ones let me go? I wait, shifting my feet, and then finally decide to ask.
“I’m leaving now. Please… let me go.”
Somehow, speaking to them seems right. I spoke to the sick one who was with me in the pit, and it listened. Kadee talked to a group of them when we traveled home through the forest from Koolkuna. The anuna who offer food to the runa speak to them. They treat them with respect, or at least compassion, and the sick ones respond.
I begin to pick my way around the sounds of them, out of the crowd. Aloe’s stick taps in front of me at a rate much slower than my heart. As I take one step after another, the sick ones seem to melt out of my way. The groans and shrieks quiet, fade, and stop. There’s silence among the trees. I take a long breath.
When I became the Water Bearer, I was frightened of the sick ones, sickened by them, and I wanted nothing more than for them to disappear. And now… now I want to help them. I’m not sure how, but I’ll find a way. Maybe Nerang can help. I’ll make it my goal, along with working together with the Sisters to better both of our communities.
The sounds of the sick ones recede behind me. With a new sense of purpose, I travel the last of the journey to Koolkuna alone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It’s nearly dawn when I finally trudge down the path to the village.
Birds begin to trill and chirp as light filters in through the branches of trees far overhead. Before long, I can hear the waterfall crashing noisily into the Myuna on my right, flowing from the Dark Places, oblivious to the early morning hour. I follow the dirt trail from the water hole to the edge of the still-quiet village.
I’m at the outskirts when I smell something that makes me skid to a stop: clove smoke.
“Nerang!”
“Good morning, young one.”
I’m almost afraid to say the words. “Did they… did they all make it back?”
“Yes, they did.”
“And… are they okay?”
“They are,” he says.
My shoulders collapse with relief. “Thank the stars. But then… what are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you.” He hooks my hand onto his arm and begins to stroll in the direction of the allawah at the center of the village. Dazed, I follow.
“The children—?” I ask.
“Are in their beds, sleeping.”
“And Peree and the others—?”
“Are recovering in the allawah. I gave them some of my special tea to help calm them. Most are sleeping. Kadee is with them; not to worry.”
I pull him to a stop. “Nerang, are you sure everything is okay?”
He chuckles. “Young one, nothing could be better. It is the start of what looks like a beautiful day, our guru are home, and you all came back to us.”
“It’s just, you’re so… calm.”
“Have you not had enough excitement? I gathered enough of the story to know what you have been through.”
“Yes, but—”
“Mirii.” He pats my hand. “I am amazed at what you have accomplished. I was not wrong to put my trust in you, young as you are. But you have a long day of celebration, gratitude, and surprises ahead of you. I thought you might enjoy a few moments of peace now.”
I exhale and lean against him. He’s right. It is nice, no matter how short-lived.
“You’re a strange person, Nerang. Strange but wise. I like
you a lot.”
“And you are an exceptional young woman, Fennel. You will hear it many times from the anuna, I am sure, but I want you to hear it from me first—thank you.” His words are heartfelt. “Thank you for bringing the guru, and yourselves, safely home.”
I beam. Praise from Nerang is like an extra helping of dessert.
“However,” he chides, “having a visit from a Fire Sister was… unexpected.”
“You’ll like Alev, Nerang. She knows a lot about the world, like you. Oh, um,” I scratch my nose, “and how do you feel about working with the Sisters? Because… I sort of already told them we would. And that you’d show Alev the way the sick ones change after she’s drunk from the Myuna for a while.”
“We will discuss it. For now, rest.”
The man does love his rest.
We sit together on a log near the allawah as the day blooms around us. Nerang smokes, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve just sat. As long as the others are okay, then there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go, no people to lead or children to rescue. No life-threatening danger hanging over my head.
I can get used to this.
“There is some sad news, young one,” the healer says after a while.
“Wirrim?” I guess. Kadee warned me he might pass on before I left with the search party. “I’m so sorry.”
He exhales, and the sweet smoke tickles my nose. “He was a very good man. I will miss him. But he has taught Kadee well.”
So she’ll take over as Memory Keeper for the anuna. From what I can tell, the role is part leader, part group conscience. I think it’s a sign of who the anuna are, their values of openness and equity that they would allow a woman who was once a lorinya to inherit it. Aloe was one of the Council of Three, and Kadee is the Memory Keeper. I hope I will be remembered as a leader one day, as both my mothers will be.