by Lois Lowry
Page 17
But there seemed no victory to it. Only a pause in a battle he was bound to lose.
He noticed Kira reaching for her pack and spoke sharply to her. "What are you doing? We have to move on a minute. Its dangerous here. " She hadnt seen the deadly thing that had grabbed at Matty, but he knew there would be more; he watched the bushes for them.
It had come for him first, he realized. He did not want to be the first to die, to leave her alone.
To his dismay, she was removing her embroidery tools. "Kira! Theres no time!"
"I might be able to. . . " Then she deftly threaded a needle.
To what? he wondered bitterly. To create a handsome wall-hanging depicting our last hours? He remembered that in the art books he had leafed through at Leaders, many paintings depicted death. A severed head on a platter. A battle, and the ground strewn with bodies. Swords and spears and fire; and nails being pounded into the tender flesh of a mans hands. Painters had preserved such pain through beauty.
Perhaps she would.
He watched her hands. They flew over the small frame, moving in and out with the needle. Her eyes were closed. She was not directing her own fingers. They simply moved.
He waited, his eyes vigilant, watching the surrounding bushes for the next attack. He feared the coming dark. He wanted to move on, out of this place, before evening came. But he waited while her hands moved.
Finally she looked up. "Someone is coming to help us," she said. "Its the young man with the blue eyes. "
Leader.
"Leaders coming?"
"He has entered Forest. "
Matty sighed. "Its too late, Kira. Hell never find us in time. "
"He knows just where we are. "
"He can see beyond," he said, and coughed. "Have I already told you that? I cant remember. "
"See beyond?" She had begun to pack her things away.
"Its his gift. You see ahead. He sees beyond. And I. . . " Matty fell silent. He raised one hideously swollen arm and looked listlessly at the pus that seeped through the fabric of his sleeve. Then he laughed harshly. "I can fix a frog. "
18
The blind man was alone now, with his fear, since Leader had gone. He had returned to his own house to wait, passing as he did the workers still preparing to build a wall surrounding Village.
In the yard beside the small homeplace he had shared happily with Matty for so long, he could smell the newly turned earth. Yesterday he had begun to dig a flower garden for his daughter, pushing in the spade and loosening the weeds for pulling.
Jean had stopped by to ask about Matty. She had admired Seers work and told him she would bring seeds from her own flowers. They could have twin gardens, she said. She was looking forward to meeting the blind mans daughter. She had never had a big sister, and perhaps Kira would be that for her. He could hear the smile in her voice.
But that had been yesterday, and he had told Jean then, believing it to be true, that the travelers were fine, and on their way home.
This morning Leader, after standing motionless at the window for a long time, had told him the truth.
The blind man had cried out in anguish. "Both of them? Both of my children?"
Ordinarily Leader needed to rest after he looked beyond. But now he did not take the time. The blind man could hear him moving about the room, gathering things.
"Dont let Village know Im gone," Leader told him.
"Gone? Where are you going?" The blind man was still reeling with the news of what was happening in Forest.
"To save them, of course. But I dont trust the wall builders. If they realize Im not here to remind everyone of the proclamation, I think theyll start early. I dont want to get back here and not be able to reenter. "
"Can you slip past them?"
"Yes, I know a back way. And theyre all so absorbed in their work that they wont be looking for me. Im the last person they want to see, anyway. They know how I feel about the wall. "
The blind man was encouraged out of his despair by the optimism in Leaders voice. To save them, of course. He had said that. Maybe it could be true.
"Do you have food? A warm jacket? Weapons? Maybe youll need weapons. I hate the thought of it. "
But Leader said no. "Our gifts are our weaponry," he said. Then he hurried down the stairs.
Now, alone in his homeplace, a feeling of hopelessness returned to the blind man. He reached for the wall beside the kitchen and felt the edges of the tapestry hanging there, the one Kira had made for him. He let his fingers creep across it, feeling their way through the embroidered landscape. He had felt the tiny, even stitches often before, because he went to it and touched it when he was missing her. Now, on this shattered morning, he felt nothing but knots and snarls under his fingertips. He felt death, and smelled its terrible smell.
19
Night was ending and they were still alive. Matty woke at dawn to find himself still curled next to Kira in the place where they had collapsed together after struggling as far as they could into the evening.
"Kira?" His voice was hoarse from thirst, but she heard him and stirred. She opened her eyes.
"I cant see very well," she whispered. "Everything is blurred. "
"Can you sit up?" he asked.
She tried, and groaned. "Im so weak," she said. "Wait. " She took a deep breath and then painfully pushed herself into a sitting position.
"Whats that on your face?" she asked him. He touched his upper lip where she pointed, and brought his hand away smeared with bright blood. "My nose is bleeding," he said, puzzled.
She handed him the cloth she had worn around her face the day before, and he held it against his nose to try to stem the flow of blood. "Do you think you can walk?" he asked her after a moment.
But she shook her head. "Im sorry. Im so sorry, Matty. "
He wasnt surprised. After the thorny branches had shredded her dress, they had reached for her legs as night fell, and now he could see that she was terribly lacerated. The wounds were deep, and he could see exposed muscles and tendons glisten yellow and pink in a devastating kind of beauty where the ragged flesh gaped open.
Matty himself could probably still stumble along. But his arms were completely useless now, and his hands seemed no more than huge paws. He could no longer even hold the knife with any strength.
As for Frolic, he didnt know. The little dog lay motionless against his chest.
He watched dully as a brown lizard with a darting tongue scrambled across their blanket with its tail flicking.
"You go on," Kira murmured. She lay back down and closed her eyes. "Ill just sleep. "
He moved his damaged arms with some difficulty to her pack, which lay beside her where she had dropped it the night before. Through a haze of pain he realized that his fingers still moved awkwardly at his will, and he used them to open her pack and remove the embroidery frame. Painstakingly, slowly, he threaded her needle. Then he shook her awake.
"Dont. I dont want to wake up. "
"Kira," he said to her, "take this. " He handed her the frame. "Just try one more time. Please. See where Leader is, if you can. "
She blinked and looked at the frame as if it were unfamiliar. Matty put the threaded needle into her right hand. He was remembering something. It was something he had said once, to Leader, about meeting halfway.
But she had closed her eyes again. He spoke loudly to her. "Kira! Put the needle into the fabric. And try to meet him. Try, Kira!"
Kira sighed, and with a feeble gesture she inserted the needle into the cloth as he held the frame for her. He watched her hands. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. "Again," he implored.
He saw her hands flutter, and the shimmer came.
***
Leader felt Forests attack begin when he was two days in. Probably it had started earlier, with sharp twigs—he remembered now that one had barely missed his eye—but he had been so intent, then, on finding and following the pa
th that he had not paid attention to the little wounds inflicted on him. He had strode through the deep woods with no thought of danger; he concentrated only on finding the pair that he had seen so close to death. He didnt eat or sleep.
He had begun to perceive the stench on the morning of the second day, and it served to hurry his steps. Without flinching, he brushed aside the grasping branches and ignored the thorns that scraped his arms and face.
He encountered a place where the path seemed simply to end. He stopped, puzzled, and examined the undergrowth. From somewhere nearby a shiny green frog emerged from the base of a bush.
Churrump.
Churrump.
It hopped and skittered toward him in the mud, then turned itself around and went forward. To his surprise, Leader followed the frog, pushing his way through thick bushes, and found that it had led him to the place where the path resumed. Relieved, for he had thought briefly that he was lost, he continued on. But now he recognized the attacks. Now he saw that it was not random thorny branches and his own clumsiness in walking into them, but rather an assault from Forest itself.
Suddenly the air surrounding him was abuzz with stinging insects. They flew at his face and bit mercilessly. He remembered, from his reading, descriptions of besieged medieval castles, and armies of men with bows sending so many arrows that the sky seemed thick with them. This felt like that. He felt pierced in a thousand places, and he cried out.
Then, just as suddenly, they were gone: regrouping, he thought, for another attack. He rushed forward, thinking to move away from this swampy area which harbored and bred such creatures. Indeed, the path did turn and led to drier ground, but here a sharp rock flung itself up and split the skin on his knee; then another sliced his hand so badly that he had to wrap the cut tightly in cloth for fear the loss of blood would weaken him beyond repair.
Stumbling and bleeding, he wished briefly that he had brought some kind of weapon. But what would have protected him against Forest itself? It was a force too huge to fight with a knife or a club.
Our gifts are our weaponry, he remembered saying to the blind man. It seemed so long ago that he had said it. He had felt certain of it at the time, but now he could not even think what he had meant.
He stood silently for a moment. His face was disfigured now, swollen from bites that oozed a dark fluid. Blood ran from his left ear, which had been gashed by a razor-sharp stone. One of his ankles was entangled by a vine that grew so quickly he could see it move, snaking its way toward his knee; he knew he would soon be immobilized by it, and the insects would return, then, to finish him off.
He faced what he knew to be the center of Forest, the place where Matty and Kira were trapped, and he willed himself to look beyond. It seemed the only thing left to do.
20
"What are you seeing?" Matty asked her in a hoarse voice.
But she didnt reply at first. Her eyes were closed. Her fingers moved as if in a dream. The needle went in and out, in and out.
He lifted his head to try to see. But his eyes were swollen, and when he raised himself, blood still flowed from his nose. So he lay back down, groaning from the effort, and in doing so felt the limp body of the puppy shift inside his shirt.
Matty had never experienced such an enormous sadness. His other dog had died in old age, peaceful and ready. But Frolic was only a puppy, new to life, and had been such a spirited creature, so curious and playful. It seemed impossible that he would have become a lifeless thing in such a short time.