by A. G. Henley
We follow Bear through the woods to the mouth of the caves, avoiding the path in case a guard is watching. We keep to the shadows. I hold Calli's hand, determined to maintain the connection between us for as long as I can. The night is cooler than it's been in many moons. The birds are silent in the trees, but I hear muted voices as we approach the cave mouth.
When I pick out Peree's musical voice, I run to him and he catches me. He gathers my tangled, wild hair behind me and covers my face with kisses. I wish we had a little more time and a little less of an audience.
The rest of the Lofty group is here, too. Frost's voice mingles quietly with the others. I wonder what she'll do when she finds out Moray and his brothers are no longer invited to come along. At least Koolkuna will be a safe place to raise her child, and she's definitely better off without him.
"Fennel, finally," a rapid-fire female voice whispers—Moon. She sounds relieved. "We were a little worried you weren't well enough, although Bear promised us he’d get you here.”
I blink. He did? Since when were Bear and the Lofties on speaking terms?
Moon’s still talking. “Peree was starting to pace and get that ferocious look he gets. That's never a good sign, is it, Petrel? How are you, Eland? Thrush is here, ready to compare bows and knives and arrows and whatever other weapons he could find. Thrush! Put that down!"
I'm a little breathless just listening to her. "How are you feeling, Moon?"
"Huge. Ready to have this hatchling." She hugs me, and I jump as the baby kicks us both, probably annoyed at being squashed. Moon groans. "If he kicks me in the spine one more time, I think it's entirely possible he'll break me in half."
Petrel touches my back. "I'm glad you're all right, Fennel." He sounds tense.
"We'd better get moving," Bear says. "Too many people here. Too loud."
"Agreed," Peree says.
I grope behind me, searching for Calli. I put her hand in Peree’s. "Peree, this is Calli. I really wanted you to meet her."
She says hello, sounding embarrassed, probably remembering all the times she avoided Peree when he was on the ground. I try to forget that now. I want to leave the bad memories behind as much as I can.
"I wish you'd come with us,” Peree says. “Fenn will miss you."
"And I wish she'd stay,” Calli says. “But she'd miss you more, and I'd rather she be happy.”
I find the familiar features of her face. Her smile wobbles and threatens to fall.
"I love you," I tell her. "You'll always be with me, wherever that may be." She kisses my cheek, and we hold each other. For the second time in the last few hours, I cry.
"No hugs or tears for us, boys. As usual."
My hands curl into fists when I hear Moray's voice. Peree and Bear make almost identical sounds of wrath. It would be funny if I weren’t so angry myself. Even Calli bristles. She and Eland step closer to me. My friends create a physical barrier around me.
"What do you think you're doing here?" My voice is as sharp as the blade of Peree's knife in my pocket. The knife I fully intend to really use on Moray if he comes any closer.
"Going to Koolkuna. I'm hurt you didn't let me know the plan for meeting, Fenn. I had to send Cuda and Conda to stake out the caves."
"I thought after almost killing me you'd sort of get it through your thick skull that you and your brothers aren't welcome!"
"What are you going on about? I didn't give you enough poison to kill you, only enough to make you—you know—go a little out of your head for awhile. Now look at you with all your people around. It's touching." He sounds as genuinely contemptuous as always, but no more sinister.
"So it was you that poisoned her," Bear hisses. He calls Moray a string of names, most of which I agree with.
"Had to," Moray says. "Thistle was on to me. If I hadn't poisoned Fennel, she would've stuck to me and the boys like tree sap all day. Couldn't have that when I was trying to get the last of the supplies pulled together. I thought I was doing you a favor. Did your work for you while you had a nice rest up in Marj's shelter."
"A favor?" I hiss. "I was out of my mind for hours!"
"Better than dead." He pauses. "And dead is what Thistle and her friends had in mind for you, if I hadn't slipped you the banewort."
Her friends?
"Marj was right," Eland whispered behind me. "About the banewort."
"Stay behind us," I mutter to him.
"Face it, sweetheart," Moray says. "If I hadn't tried to kill you, you'd be dead right now."
I try to wrap my mind around that bit of Moray-esque logic. I'm not terribly surprised he was responsible for the poison, or that Thistle hated me enough to try to kill me . . . but who was Thistle in cahoots with?
Calli stiffens at my side.
"What is it?" I ask. Then I hear approaching footsteps.
"What's going on here?" a voice calls out. It's Fox, and he's not alone.
"Calli?" Acacia shouts anxiously.
"I'm just . . . I'm . . ." Calli's voice has a desperate edge to it. She probably doesn't want to give us away to her parents.
"She's only here to say goodbye,” I tell Fox and Acacia. “We're leaving. Please don't try to stop us." Peree takes my hand, supporting me. My chin lifts a notch.
"We have to try to stop you, Fennel," Pinion says. "Of course we do."
I curse to myself. I thought it was only Fox and Acacia, but the Three must all be here. And there are other Groundlings with them. I hear their voices and footfalls now.
"Calli, come here," Acacia pleads.
"Let her be, Cacia. She's not going anywhere. Groundlings, listen to us," Fox says. "You don't know exactly how to get where you're going. You don't know what you might encounter along the way. And with apologies to Fennel and Peree, you don't know what kind of reception you'll get when—if—you arrive."
I snort defiantly. Doesn't that describe pretty much every day of our lives?
Bream speaks. His voice finds its usual monotonous rhythm, as if settling in for a long, hard march. Or maybe that's just how it feels to listen to him. "There are many accounts of Groundlings who tried to find a way to the source of the Hidden Waters, only to never be seen again. The last time a group of this size went to find a new place to call home, it left the community in shambles. Three generations were required to build back up to the numbers they had before the group left. The people who left were consumed by the flesh-eaters. Furthermore, history tells us—"
Pinion interrupts him. "What Bream is trying to say . . . I think . . . is that this community may not survive the loss of your departure. Vole and Bear, who will take over the repairs of our structures and the creation of new shelters if you go? Ivy, who will watch over the little ones? Fennel, who will collect the water when the Scourge comes? Have you thought of that?"
Of course I’ve thought of that. “No one has to stay here. We wanted you all to come with us. You made the choice to stay. And you don't need me—the creatures are sick, not dangerous." I wish I didn't sound so defensive.
"So you say." Pinion says. "But if you really believe that, why were you so terrified when you believed the flesh eaters had come today?”
I chew on my lip. She’s right. If I'm really honest with myself, a large part of me still believes the Scourge is dangerous. I wish I didn't, but there it is.
Pinion presses her point with the group. "You're following two young people on the basis of some tall tales—stories they clearly have trouble believing themselves. Are you sure you want to risk your lives, and the lives of your children, in this way?"
"Between the Scourge and the Lofties," Vole says, "we risk our lives every day staying here in the forest! What's the difference?"
"Are you comparing us to the fleshies?" a Lofty retorts. "That's rich. We could say the same of you."
A few people in our group shout at each other. My stomach clenches; the feeling in the clearing is so similar to the morning of the Reckoning. Peree lets go of my hand and pulls his bow off his bac
k. I lay a cautioning hand on his arm.
Fox speaks up. "We received explicit warning, passed from Councils before us, not to leave our part of the forest. They said there are things—people—beyond our borders that are worse than the Scourge. It’s why our ancestors settled here, so far from the City where the Scourge originated. Our lives here might not be perfect, but we have persisted and found ways to survive. If we leave, that may no longer be true. Aloe herself cautioned me about this, Fennel."
I frown. What did the past Councils know that we don’t? What did Aloe know that she’d never be able to tell me?
The scent of rosemary—Aloe’s scent—drifts to me on the cool evening breeze. And with it, a moment of relief and confidence, like pushing through unfamiliar vegetation in the forest and finding I was on the right path after all. I can almost feel her touch on my arm now, telling me she's with me. Telling me to trust myself.
"I think if my mother was still alive, and she heard about what we experienced in Koolkuna, she would have changed her mind. Aloe believed we should all do our duties to the best of our abilities. But I think she also understood that sometimes the right path is the one you're told not to take."
Peree speaks. "The people gathered here have chosen to leave. What does it say about life in our community if this many people are willing to follow us into the unknown?" He raises his voice. "Lofties and Groundlings, Fennel and I will take you to Koolkuna. We know the way. But anyone who’s changed their mind is free to stay." He pauses. A few people mutter and shuffle, but no one speaks out. "Groundling Council of Three, our group intends to leave. Will you let us go?"
"I'll tell you what we won't do," Fox says.
I wait, my body tingling, all of my muscles tensed. I'm torn by the conflicting desires to run and to stand my ground and fight for what I believe to be the right choice for my family and me.
"Adder and the last Council chose the path of violence," Fox says. "I have many faults, but the inability to learn from mistakes—my own and others’—isn’t one of them."
I release the breath I was holding. Based on the exclamations around me, I wasn't the only one relieved by Fox's words.
"We came," he continues, "hoping to change your minds. We wanted to convince you to reconsider your decision. But we won’t force you to stay."
Calli runs to her father. From the grunt I hear, she must have practically knocked him off his feet.
"Thank you, Fox." My voice wavers. "We didn't want to sneak away like this. But talking didn't seem to be getting us anywhere. And it was becoming too dangerous to stay."
"I know," he says. "What happened today convinced me that the path we were on was wrong for many reasons. But are you all positive that leaving is what you want to do?"
Quietly at first, then with more assurance, the Lofties and Groundlings huddled in the cave mouth behind me agree.
Fox speaks again, his voice resigned now. "Then know that so long as I remain on the Council, you will always be welcomed here; it is your home.”
I find my way to Fox and Acacia and throw my arms around them. Eland follows.
"Be safe, Fennel, Eland. Take care of each other.” Tears muddle Acacia’s words.
"Fox. Always the peacemaker." Thistle's voice is harsh with derision. "I knew you didn't have the strength of will to make the difficult decisions for the Council. Now my boys will leave me, and the rest of us will die here, because the Three are too weak to lead."
"It didn't have to be like this.” I recognize Osprey’s cold voice in the treetops. "The Groundling girl led you astray, Peree. She's tearing us apart. And you—you broke your grandmother's heart."
"I can speak for myself," a woman says. I don't know the voice from the trees, but it’s timeworn and proud. "Peree, you are a disappointment to me and to your people. Your father would be ashamed if he were—" she falters, but recovers quickly, her voice strong again. "You chose a Groundling over the well-being of your own."
"I told you before, Shrike trusted me." Peree's voice is soft and sad, regretful. "He would believe in me now if he were still here. Your loss has twisted your heart, Grandmother."
Breeze?
"And love has blinded yours." Her bitter words burn my ears. It suddenly feels too exposed out here. I hunch protectively over Eland as I herd him back toward our group.
"Oh, no. You won't get away again, girl," Osprey says. "Not this time." If tongues could slice through flesh, his would flay me.
Words will never hurt you, I remember Aloe telling me once, after another child teased me about being Sightless. Arrows, on the other hand, will.
Shouts and cries of alarm as an arrow whistles toward us from the trees. Peree yells at me to run. I try to propel Eland toward the cave mouth, but before I can get a good grip on him, someone pushes me, hard, in a different direction. I hear Eland cry out and fall. I scramble back to him, trying to haul him up by his arm. He screams.
“Eland? Eland! Get to the caves!” I yell.
My hands grope across his back. It’s wet. I don’t understand. How did Eland get wet? I rub my fingers together; they’re sticky and slick. There’s a rusty smell that I know well, but don’t want to identify. I rub my palms on my dress and try again to get Eland to his feet. He doesn't move, doesn't make a single sound.
"Eland?" I whisper.
An arrow skims by my ear, and an exceptionally heavy body crushes me into the ground. The breath rushes from my lungs. Eland’s hand slips out of mine. I gasp for air and cry out for him. Why won’t he answer? What’s wrong with him?
Thistle shrieks. Arrows thunk all around me. I thrash my arms and legs, trying to free myself from the person pinning me, wanting to reach Eland.
"Stay down," Moray says in my ear, his voice unusually serious. "Unless you want to be dead, too."
I still at his last words. No.
"Cuda, Conda, get going!" he yells. The heavy footsteps of his brothers thump toward the caves. He shakes my shoulder roughly and moves his bulk off of me. "When I say go, you run. Got it?"
I croak, "Who's dead, Moray?"
"Go now," he says.
I don't move.
"Go!"
I try, but I can't.
"Have it your way." Moray scoops me up and runs, moving easily for a man his size. Arrows buzz around us.
He’s hit. He stumbles and grunts and almost falls. Someone cries his name from the caves. Frost, I think. I writhe in his arms, begging him to put me down, screaming for Eland.
A cold sensation builds inside me, as if the comforting fire that usually heats and lights my body has been doused. I pant like an animal in a trap. I can't breathe, can’t think.
Moray keeps moving, a little slower now, but fast enough. The darkness of the caves finally covers us. Other footsteps echo beside us, around us. Ragged breathing. Someone's lit a torch; the light dips and slides in front of us.
I want to shout, ask who was hit. But I'm afraid, so afraid, to hear who will answer. And who won't ever answer again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"I've got her," Peree says from nearby. He's alive.
Moray slows and transfers me to him without a word. We push forward again.
"Where's Eland?" I whisper to Peree. There's no answer, only his breathing. "Peree? Talk to me!" He crushes me against his chest. I start to shake. My hands are freezing and slicked with—I don't want to think about it. "Where is he?"
"Breeze was aiming for you, Fennel, not him.” His voice breaks. “They were aiming for you."
A scream tears through my head. The sound drowns out every other thought I might have had. I go rigid in Peree's arms, solid and unmoving, a living stone.
He sets me down when we reach the cache of supplies. I think that's where we are. I can't be sure.
Peree squats next to me and puts his hands on either side of my face. "Fennel, listen." He pauses, swallowing. "How can I tell you this?" His voice wavers like it might splinter any moment. That's how I feel, too. Like I will break apart. A
tiny, weak rock under the foot of some terrible creature with the power to shatter me.
"Don't tell me. I don't want to hear it," I whisper, rolling onto my side. I can't listen to him say the words. The words are the terrible creature. If I hear them, they'll destroy me.
His lips brush my hair. "Okay."
This can't be happening. I scramble up to sitting. "Where is he now?”
"I couldn't get to him. I tried—"
I start to rise. "I have to go back! He might be injured! I can't leave him there, I have to—"
Peree holds me firmly. "He's gone, Fennel. He couldn't have”—he swallows hard again—"survived that.” His words come faster now. They spill out of him like blood from a wound. I rub my hands over and over on my dress. "Moray pushed you out of the way, and the arrows hit Eland instead. I didn't know they were planning that. Of course I didn't know. And Breeze . . . I can't believe she would . . . She didn't want to come. Wouldn't even discuss it. She tried to talk me out of going. But I didn't realize . . . she must have blamed you for everything. I didn't know." He says more, but his voice fades until I can no longer hear him.
I feel the rock under my hands, rolling the small bits of gravel under my fingers. I want to curl up and go to sleep. Maybe if I sleep none of this will have happened. But I can't sleep. I have to move. We all have to move. It's time to go.
Someone places a pack on my shoulders. It must be mine. I register the additional weight, but it doesn't feel real. Nothing does. I'm floating somewhere above and beyond this moment, listening.
That's not me down there, retching in the black passageway as Peree tries to comfort me. That's not Eland outside—dying alone. That's not us.
The girl below me starts walking, putting one foot in front of the other. I listen to her short, dull responses as people speak to her, horror and sympathy in their voices. Words with no meaning that offer no relief.
They talk and talk and talk.
We walk. And rest. And walk again. I smell the trail of crampberries. I hear the echoes. There's hard rock beneath my feet and cold rock against my fingers and tears that refuse to fall from my eyes. The scream builds inside me, over and over, only to perish on my lips.