by A. G. Henley
"I had no idea you Lofties snuck around on the ground so much." I say it like I'm kidding, but it astonishes me that they got away with it. "And is that an effective punishment? Tying your hands behind your backs?"
"It is when you're a starving teenage boy," Peree says. "There's only so much meat you can get off the bone without holding it in your fingers. We had to live on nuts and berries."
"Almost killed us," Petrel adds.
"You never told me you already knew about this place," I say to Peree.
"Can't tell you all my secrets at once, can I? No mystery in that." There's a smile in his voice.
"We'd better get started," Kadee says. "We can’t afford to be caught meeting like this."
That focuses us. I settle onto the mostly dry ground, and Peree sinks down next to me, setting his bow aside. His honeysuckle scent is a bit trampled right now. It’s not his fault; we aren't allowing the Lofties frequent access to the water hole for bathing.
"How are things going in the trees?" I ask. The question is met with silence.
"What?" I ask.
"We aren't too popular right now," Peree says. I can tell there's something he's not saying.
“What happened?”
"I was jumped by Osprey and his group. They know I'm talking to people about leaving."
I touch his face. His cheek is puffy, and one of his eyes is swollen completely shut. “Oh, Peree . . .”
"We'll be fine . . . as long as I stay away from you from now on and act like the plan's off."
"Then you definitely shouldn't be down here! And Kadee, Petrel, you shouldn't be, either."
"I kept telling them that, but they wouldn't listen," Peree says.
Petrel speaks, his voice unusually serious. "Moon and I don't want to hatch our baby here anymore, now that we know there's another place to raise her. Not after everything's that happened. And don't even get Moon started on the Exchange. Her family tends to have fair-haired and light-eyed children, but you never know."
"What about Breeze? Have you asked her to come with us?" I ask.
Peree answers. "Not yet. She's really not doing well with Shrike and everything. I'll work on her."
"I hope she will.” I squeeze his hand. “Peree, please be careful. Don't start anything else with Osprey. It's not worth it. Okay?"
"I won't. Not if I can help it." He skims his hand up and down my back soothingly. "Now . . . the plan. I think we have to go through the caves to Koolkuna, although our people won't be too happy about it. You can still follow the crampberries, right?"
I consider the frequent whiffs of the disgusting berries I've caught in the caves. "Oh, yeah. No problem. But we should bring a fresh supply just in case. I'll ask Eland to gather some."
"We're already stockpiling supplies." Peree says. "Food, extra clothing, medicine. I can probably get them into the caves before we leave, if the guards are as sleepy as they were tonight. Your job is to move them into that first passageway we took when we went to find the Waters. Your people don't use that area very much, right?"
"Water's going to be an issue, though,” I say.
“Maybe we can leave that up to each person. Spread the word that if they're coming, they have to save and bring a few days worth of drinking water,” Petrel says. “How long will the trip take?”
“Maybe a day, now that we have the trail of crampberries to follow through the caves," I say. “When will we go?"
"In five nights," Kadee says. "The moon will be new, which should make it easier for you to get people from the trees to the caves with the least risk of being seen. It could still be dangerous, though. We don't know what the Covey or the Council of Three will do. No one wants a repeat of the Reckoning."
The night air wriggles down the collar of my dress, making me shiver. Five nights. Five more days to spend with my people in the only home I've ever known. I want to go to Koolkuna, but sneaking out in the middle of the night with a group of rebels wasn't how I envisioned doing it.
"Wait, you said it would be easier for us to get to the caves. Aren't you coming?" I ask Kadee.
"I'm leaving tomorrow night to prepare the anuna for your arrival. I will meet you at the cave mouth where you saw the big cat. That entrance to the caves, if I have the right one in mind, is not terribly far from Koolkuna. If we're fortunate, the sick ones will stay away so we can move the people to the village from there."
I can think of about a million things that could go wrong with that plan, and a million more that could go wrong in the meantime, but I also don't have a better idea. We discuss the potential pitfalls while the moon skates across the sky.
I'm still worried about Peree and his family being caught, but it's wonderful to spend time with them. If Eland and Moon were here, it would be perfect. Hopefully we'll all be together soon.
Kadee takes me aside when the time comes to say goodbye. Her voice is kind. "You're doing the right thing, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"I see you struggling. You came back to try to persuade your people to go to Koolkuna, and now they won't go. You're worried you're abandoning them. But you're not. Has Peree told you the story about the thirsty horse that was led to water, but wouldn't take a drink? I used to tell him that one when he was being stubborn."
"Peree? Stubborn? Can't imagine that." I laugh. "No, I haven't heard it. What's a horse?" I assume it’s some kind of large animal, but I wouldn’t know. There are so few big animals left in the world.
"Never mind. My point is this: the wonderful thing about being human is that we're able to make our own choices. Even if they're the wrong ones."
"But what if I'm making the wrong one?"
"At least you will have had the chance to choose. And that's what you're offering your people: a choice."
A memory tugs at me—holding out my hand to Peree at the Summer Solstice the night we met. At least I'll have made my own choice, I thought, as I asked him to dance before the sick ones descended. I hold my hand out to him now. He tucks it into his, and I smile.
Peree is my choice. I choose him. And like Petrel and Moon, I want a chance at a peaceful future for my little brother and my future family. Kadee is right. We offered our people two paths, and we have to accept that some may walk a different one than we do. That's the beauty, and the price, of free will.
Kadee and Petrel leave soon after. Peree insists we stay, that we've earned a few minutes alone together. I argue with him that he should go, but he wins by threatening to tickle me until I give away our hiding place. So we sit pressed together in the small clearing with night creatures screeching and croaking in the trees around us.
"I have something for you." I pull out the feather and hand it to him. "Calli found it. She said it would look nice in your hair." He doesn't need to know she said it sarcastically.
"Tell her thanks." After a moment, he ties it in. "I don't think I've ever seen a bird this could have come from."
"That's what she said, too."
"It actually reminds me of a story. Do you want to hear it?"
"Yes . . . but is it a quick one? Guards and rules and punishments and . . ." I gesture around us.
He leans close and kisses my neck. Lightning races through my veins, originating at his lips and crackling through the tips of my toes. He whispers in my ear, "Don't rush a story-teller. It cramps our creativity."
"Please, take all the time you want, then.” I'm a little breathless. “If we're caught, I'll say I couldn't possibly ask you to hurry up and finish the story. It would cramp your creativity."
He chuckles. "Okay, here it is. Many years ago, a village existed, perched on the top of a great hill. The people there were safe, living against the blue sky. They had enough food and water, but they were not content. The men and the women of the village were not partners. The men used their strength to overpower the women, they set up rules that kept the women from making decisions, and they favored their boy children over their girls. The women were unhappy, but could not s
ee a way to change their situation. They would gather every day to care for the children, cook the meals, and mend clothing. And they would talk about what it would be like to be as free as the hawks and eagles they saw gliding over their homes each day."
Peree's voice changes as he speaks, caressing and curling around his words like a lover. His voice envelops me, too, until I almost forget about the guards and rules and punishments myself. Almost.
"One day, a colorful bird flew among the gathering of women. It had a small hooked beak of bright orange, like a tiger, with feathers in every hue that shimmered as the bird flew. The women sat still, watching. They were astonished. They did not know such a beautiful bird existed. The bird landed on a nearby tree stump and spoke to them, its voice high and clear. It said, 'Women, I have been watching you. Why do you allow your men to treat you and your children this way? Why do you not rise up against them?' The women hung their heads, pain and anger in their hooded eyes. Finally, one of them spoke. 'We are not strong enough. We have no weapons. We cannot rise up against them.' And the bird said, 'If it is a weapon you need, take one of my feathers. It will slay any man you use it against.'"
I finger the soft feathers in his wavy hair and laugh. “A feather as a weapon?”
“The women scoffed, too," Peree says seriously, "and the bird looked as offended as it is possible for a bird to look. 'You reject my gift?' it asked. The women said, 'A feather, however beautiful, is no weapon.' Then the bird answered, 'I tell you now; you will have what you want. But beware. It will not be as you expected.' And with that it flew away. The women all looked at each other. They did not know what to think.
"A small girl climbed out of her mother's lap and approached the tree stump. 'Look,' she said, 'The pretty bird left a feather.' She picked it up. It was beautiful—bright green, yellow, and red, with touches of blue. 'Put that down,' the girl's mother said sternly. But she held it a moment longer. And sure enough, the feather began to grow in the girl's hand. It grew longer, and thinner, and harder. The tip of the feather sharpened into a point. Before long, she was holding a wicked-looking spear. Her mother snatched it from her. 'A weapon! We must hide it from the men.'"
“The bird was right, then,” I say.
“In more ways than one," Peree says. "The woman hid the spear in her home. But that night, when her partner beat her in front of her daughter as he did most nights, the woman snatched up the weapon. She brandished it in front of her. The pain and anger rose up inside her until it became all she could feel, and before she knew what she was doing, she plunged the spear into him. As the woman stood over her partner's body, the bloody spear became a harmless feather in her hand."
I wrap my arms around myself, disturbed by the violent turn the story has taken. Peree moves closer, warming me.
“The next day, the woman passed the bird’s gift on to her sister, and one by one, the women of the village used it on their menfolk, slaying them with the feather that became a spear. When there were no more men, the spear became a feather once more. The women took turns wearing it on their bodies, to remind themselves that they would never again be subject to the cruelties of men."
I grimace as he finishes. "What happened to the women?"
"I don't know. That's where the story ended, as I heard it."
"Well, I think we're safe," I joke weakly. "I had the feather for a while. No spear in sight. Who told you that one?"
He hesitates, playing with wisps of my hair. "Kaiya did."
My lips flatten. I have mixed feelings about Peree's friend from Koolkuna. On the one hand I’m grateful to her. She rescued me from the pit Moray threw me into. Without her, I’d be dead. I also feel sorry for her. Kadee said people avoid Kai because she was exposed to the sick ones at length as a child when she was lost in the forest. She was one of the few Nerang was able to nurse back to being fully human. At least I think she's fully human. She’s testy and churlish, and she seems to be missing a few of the niceties, like any hint of friendliness or manners.
Except when it comes to Peree.
"Oh. When was this?"
"When she brought me back from Koolkuna." His hands wrap gently around my mine. "Which I asked her to do, you know, because I was so worried about you."
"I know." I kiss his unshaven cheek. "Your stories have been a little dark lately, Peree. I'm not sure I liked that one, either."
"It was about an animal, as requested."
"Yes, and a bunch of cruel men and murderous women. I'm glad I don't live there. Then I'd have to spear you." I poke him in the ribs. He falls onto his back, groaning like he's been stabbed, and pulls me down with him.
"I'd beg for my life and offer to be your slave," he murmurs.
I kiss him again, this time on his scuffed lips. "Hmm. I'll think about it."
Kissing Peree gets better every time, especially now that we haven't been able to be together as often. It's like finding a late cache of berries when you thought they were done for the season. You savor them all the more for not knowing when you'd taste them again.
We don't speak for a while, not above a whisper at least. But I feel the night wearing on. He has to go soon.
We slink back to the rope ladder by the water hole, hand in hand, listening for any human sounds. We shouldn't have spent so long together. Morning hovers nearby, waiting for its cue to vanquish the night with bright spears of sunlight.
Peree presses my necklace in silent farewell and climbs the ladder, dragging it up behind him. I wait and listen until I can't hear his footsteps overhead anymore. Then I stay a moment longer, enjoying the quiet harmony of the water hole. I'm making the right choice to leave with Peree. I know I am.
I start toward the clearing, but I'm startled to a stop by the sound of someone moving along the path right in front of me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Trouble sleeping, Fennel?"
I freeze at the sound of Fox’s voice, agonizingly aware that Peree's footsteps faded away only moments before. I pray Fox didn't see him.
"Yes," I say, keeping my voice relaxed. "I like being near the water when I can't sleep. It's soothing." We both listen for a moment, but I'm anything but soothed now.
"Sleep can be so elusive to a troubled mind,” he says. "And it's been a difficult few months for you."
I narrow my eyes. The Three were responsible for much of my difficult few months.
"I'm on guard duty," he says. "I usually take the opportunity to think. The water hole is as good a place as any to find peace of mind."
He strolls a few paces farther down the path toward the water. I stay put, hoping against hope there's nothing amiss. If he was really listening or watching me closely, he would hear the guilt in my voice and see the tense set of my shoulders. I give silent thanks that the sighted can be so oblivious sometimes. The breeze blows toward us from the water. I tremble, but not because of the temperature.
"Cold?" he asks.
"I think I'll go home now. Will you walk with me? There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"Of course." He falls into step beside me.
For a moment, I consider telling Fox our plan. Maybe the Three would support us. I know I can't really do that, but I can ask him the question I've had since Calli put it in my head.
"Did the Three already know about Koolkuna? Before I came back from trying to find the Hidden Waters, I mean?"
If Fox tells me the truth, then maybe Aloe was wrong. Maybe there's hope that I can be honest with the Three, as I would have been with Aloe, and we can work this out. But if he lies to me, then there's no hope. I won’t be able to trust him. The pause seems to stretch and grow like a great, black shadow, gradually overtaking the sky above our heads.
"No. No, of course not," he finally says. "We didn't know it existed until you told us. What makes you ask?"
I slowly release the breath I was holding. So be it.
"No reason. Just wondering."
Just wondering what else the Three know that they aren'
t telling; how much deeper the lies will go.
We continue down the path. Fox makes small talk about what needs to be done over the coming weeks as we prepare for the return of winter. I'm barely listening, thinking instead about all I need to do in the next five days before we leave. We reach the quiet cluster of Groundling shelters in the charcoal light of dawn.
"Fennel," Fox says. "I know you're not the same girl now who left the caves to face the Scourge alone."
I don't answer; I won't be able to keep the bitterness I feel out of my voice.
"You've been in danger, and your life was threatened. You lost your mother, and you fell in love. Tragedy and wonder all in a brief period of time. You must be confused."
Yeah, you could say that. I remain silent.
"I hope you know that I care about you. I've always treated you like one of my own."
I nod.
"You're becoming a woman with a," he chuckles, "definite mind of your own. But I hope one thing hasn't changed. Your mother taught you to think about your duty to your community first; I hope you haven't forgotten her lesson. Because that would truly be tragic."
He takes my hand, placing something long and silky on my palm. The feather that fell from Peree’s hair.
"I will inform the Three that you once again disobeyed our orders." He pauses. "We can't allow our way of life to be threatened by two young people determined to put our safety in jeopardy." I don't know what expression he saw on my face, but he touches my shoulder, and his tone softens. "It's not easy for me to take a hard line. Especially with you, Fennel. But when you're responsible for the welfare of a group of people, sometimes you have to. It's as simple—and as difficult—as that."
He leaves me standing, my heart galloping, in the murky predawn. Why haven't I learned by now that I can't conceal anything from the Three?