He is not far ahead of me, but he is fast. I push myself hard, testing not only my speed but my agility too. Exposed tree roots arise like gnarled knuckles of underground beasts, and vines snake and snag at my feet while thin branches whip at my legs and body. Still, I pursue him. I pump my arms and push my legs to their limit. But no matter how fast I run, the Urthman runs faster. He seems to be putting more and more distance between us.
Hungry and exhausted, I am running out of energy fast. I have just one option left. I reach my hand behind my back and pull my spear from its sheathe as I continue to run. My muscles are spent and the weapon feels heavy in my hand–heavier than usual. But I hoist it level with my shoulder and aim it as best I can while moving. When the center if the Urthman’s back is in sight, I launch my spear with every bit of power I have left in my body and fall to the ground just after I release it. Fortunately, my knees and hands hit the earth before my face does, lessening the impact somewhat.
My palms and knees throb and I have a mouthful of dirt, but I force myself up onto my hands to see if my spear landed anywhere near him.
I am shocked when I see that I scored a direct hit. The Urthman is slumped against a large boulder with my spear sticking out of his back. He is still moving, but barely.
I slide my feet beneath me and stand. I slowly walk over to the boulder on aching legs. When I reach him, I yank the spear from his back. He groans loudly, then rolls onto the ground on his back.
My hands, which shook moments ago, have stilled. I hold my spear tightly. Its tip is poised just above the Urthman’s heart. Black eyes rimmed in cherry red stare up at me.
“Please, human, don’t kill me,” he begs.
His voice scrapes like knives inside my ears. I want to shout at him to shut his filthy mouth, that he is not worthy of sympathy, but the words get stuck in my throat. A memory flashes in my mind. I see my mother, with her hands held out in front of her in surrender, begging for mercy, begging that her life and the life of my unborn sibling be spared. But the Urthmen did not show her mercy. They took her pleas as an invitation to beat her to death.
I feel my lip snarl up over my teeth and a dangerous emotion winds inside me tightly. I squeeze the handle of my spear so hard the wood bites into my flesh. My chest heaves and my breaths are short and shallow. My body is drenched in sweat when I pull the tip away from his chest.
The Urthman’s face relaxes, and his stubby fingers touch the area just above his heart.
“I will tell them you spared me,” he says.
I watch him for a long moment. I know I ought to feel compassion for him, pity of some kind. I search my mind, the hidden hollows of my heart. But I feel nothing for him. I only feel hatred. I raise my spear high in the air and stab down with it, burying the tip in his throat. His final expression is complete shock as life leaves him. A wave of satisfaction washes over me, but I do not have time to celebrate. I look around carefully to see if there are more. I scan the immediate area, searching tall weeds and brush, shrubs and small trees. I do not see any movement, and I do not see any more Urthmen. I need to get back to the cave and see if June is all right.
As I run, I realize I should return and tell the family at the lake about the Urthmen. I need to warn them. But it is getting late, and Urthmen are not the only threat to us. Lurkers will be out as soon as the sun sets. And even Urthmen know better than to be out when Lurkers are out. I hurry my pace even though my legs feel as if they will collapse beneath me at any moment. Rest would be nice, but is a luxury I cannot afford. I have a considerable distance to cover before I am home. I will go to the family in the morning. I will steel my nerves and approach them despite the wobbly knee feeling the oldest boy gives me. I will not chicken out this time. Lives are at stake.
Images zoom through my mind in a hazy jumble as I approach the woods near our cave. I relive my mother’s death. I relive the experience of claiming the lives of the two Urthmen. In the moment, I felt as if her death was being avenged. But in the calmer time that followed, I realized that until every Urthmen falls, justice will never be served. The score will not be settled. And even if that moment ever comes to pass, I still won’t have my mother. The thought makes my eyes as blurry as the pictures in my head. I try to think about something else. I immediately picture the family, the mother and father, the two young children. I see him, the boy with the aquamarine eyes that shimmer like fish scales. They make me feel better, happy almost. They make me feel something else, as well, something dangerous. They make me hopeful.
I cling to that hope even though I fear it will slip through my fingers like the silk of a spider’s web. It keeps me going.
I am overheated and drained and want nothing more than to wash and sleep. When I reach the cave, June is nowhere in sight, and worry worms its way into my brain. I examine the woods immediately in front of the cave. I do not see her. Panic floods every cell in my body.
“June!” I call out against my better judgment. If we are not alone in these woods, I have just alerted the enemy to my presence. But June is my sister, the only flesh and blood that is mine on this planet. I will risk my life to find her.
She does not answer, so I call out to her again. “June! Where are you?” I say louder.
After a moment too long, warning is shrieking through my body, and I am about to charge into the woods and not return until she is with me.
“Avery, over here,” I hear June’s voice echoing strangely.
I search the bushes, but do not see her.
“Avery!” she cries.
Her voice snares me like a lasso then pulls me. I run in the direction of her voice and do not stop until I am deeper in than I’d like to be and standing before the base of a tree.
“Avery!”
She sounds as if she is right beside me, yet I still do not see her.
“I got one,” she says, and it sounds as though she is speaking to me from the treetop.
I look up and see her sitting on a thick branch. I start to walk around the tree to see if there is an easy way to get her down and am met with the angry grunts of one of the largest boarts I have ever seen. It is brown with an enormous patch of jet-black fur on its back, and its angry gaze is locked on me.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathe.
The boart scuffs its hoof against the dirt. When I look down, I see a boartling, small and plump, with a narrow spear through its neck.
With my eyes never leaving what I presume is the boartling’s very angry mother, I kneel and grab the largest rock I can find, then wing it at her. “Get out of here!” I threaten through my teeth. The rock knocks her in her hindquarters and sends her scrambling.
“See, I told you I’d get a boart today!” June squeals excitedly from the tree. “See it? See the boart?” She points to the boartling she skewered.
“Yes, I do,” I say proudly. “Excellent job!” I make no mention of the fact that she is hiding in a tree from the baby boart’s mother. That detail is not worth bringing up.
June climbs from the tree limb and clambers down the trunk. When she is on her feet, I ask, “When did you learn to scale a tree like that?”
She shrugs then marches up to her kill. “Our dinner,” she says, and splays her hands out to her sides proudly.
“I am so glad. I wasn’t so lucky today,” I say and weigh whether or not I should mention my run-in with the Urthmen. I do not want to scare her, but not telling her could be more dangerous than telling her.
“Why? What happened?” June asks.
If I tell her, I decided, I will tell her after we eat. I want her to have her moment to celebrate. She deserves a victory.
“I didn’t track as good as you did I guess,” I frown. “You are the hunter today, Miss I-speared-a-boart-for-dinner!” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and bring her in close. “You did a great job,” I tell her again.
She collapses into my arms and hugs me tightly. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
“Don’t thank me.” I nudge her with m
y hip. “You’re the one who did all the work. My hunting trip was a flop,” I say.
June laughs. “I don’t know about you, but my belly is rumbling. Let’s eat already,” she says.
I pull the spear from the boartling and hand it to June, then carry the carcass by its feet. We bring it back to the cave and prepare a fire. I roast the boartling and slice the meat from its bones. We will have enough for dinner tonight, as well as breakfast in the morning. I am very proud of June.
We fill our bellies then put out the fire and wash up for bed. After several stories, June falls asleep. I did not tell her about the other humans and I did not tell her about the Urthmen. I will tell her in the morning, right before I set out to warn the family by the lake that Urthmen have been in the woods, and that others may know of our existence.
Chapter 8
As soon as my eyes open, the realization that today is the day I not only meet the boy by the lake, but tell June everything as well, makes my insides curl into a heavy knot. Both are tasks I desperately want to fulfill, yet at the same time am terrified of fulfilling.
Beside me, I feel June stir. She typically sleeps later than I do. I am the one who wakes her, but not today. On this day, she rises with the sun.
“Avery,” she whispers softly. “You awake?”
I close my eyes and do not answer right away, stalling. I know it is foolish of me, that there is no way around the things I must do today. Still, I wish to buy myself a bit more time. I wish I could roll over, pull the cover of my sleep sack over my head, and hide from the always-chaotic and scary reality that is my life. But I cannot.
“Avery?” June tries a little louder.
“I’m up,” I say in a strong clear voice, startling both of us.
I feel June jump.
“Sheesh, you scared me!” she gasps.
“Sorry.”
“Why didn’t you answer me the first time?” she asks.
“Sorry,” I say. I take a deep breath. “Let’s get ourselves together and have some breakfast. There are some things we need to talk about.”
“Talk about?” June asks, and a worried expression clouds her sunny features. “Am I in trouble for yesterday, for being in the tree because of the whole boartling thing?”
“No,” I start but June talks over me.
“Because that mother boart was huge! I mean, did you see the size of her head? Her head was bigger than the two of ours put together! I got scared. Anyone would have. Well, not you. But most people, if there were any people,” June rambles.
“There are other people,” I say.
But my words do not register with June right away. She continues thinking aloud. “You are like a boart expert, a boart slayer.” She laughs at her own joke, and then her face goes blank briefly. Her brows gather and she looks at me. “Wait, what did you just say?”
“I said there are other people, other humans.”
I did not plan to tell her like this. The words just fell from my lips like rain. I do not know who is more surprised by what I’ve said, June or me.
June bolts upright and twists her body so she is facing me. Her jaw has unhinged and her eyes are wide. “Other human beings?” she says, and her eyebrows rocket to the middle of her forehead. “As in, more than one person?” She can barely get the words out.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims and explodes from her sleep sack. “Where? Where are they? When did you see them? How many are there?” The questions fire from her in rapid succession.
“I saw them two days ago. There are five, a family. They live past our perimeter, out where a river and lake meet,” I say, and hope I have answered all of her questions.
“Two days ago!” she nearly shouts. “And you’re just telling me about them now?” Her cheeks blush a deep shade of pink. Her eyes have narrowed to slits and her hands are on her hips. She begins pacing.
“Please don’t be angry,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t be angry? Are you kidding me? I am angry!” She stomps her foot. “The one thing I have been waiting for my whole life, to find other human beings, and you wait to tell me? It should’ve been the first words out of your mouth when you saw me!”
I have never seen June so angry. She is livid with me. I am not sure what to do.
“June, calm down,” I say. “Please I did not mean to upset you.”
“But you did upset me!” she fumes.
“I am sorry, June,” I say feebly.
A long moment passes between us. June simmers. But after a while, she nibbles on her lower lip and a small smile rounds her cheeks. “I am not as angry as I seem, just disappointed. I mean, really, how mad can I be? I just found out we are not alone!” she squeals suddenly.
I am impressed by how maturely she is handling my misstep of not telling her right away.
“So what are they like? You said they are a family. Are there any children that are my age? I can’t believe this, Avery! I can’t wait to meet them! Tell me all about them!”
She is exuberant. She bounces and twirls and smiles from ear to ear. I am afraid of what she will say when I tell her I did not speak to the family by the lake.
“Well, uh, let’s see,” I fumble. “How do I say this?”
“Just spit it out already! I want to know everything!”
“I don’t really have much to tell,” I say quietly.
“Huh? Why?” she looks at me, puzzled.
“I didn’t exactly, you know, go up to them and, uh, you know, talk to them,” I admit embarrassedly.
“What?” June shrieks. “You didn’t talk to them! Why? Why in the world wouldn’t you talk to them?”
I lower my eyes to my feet. “I chickened out,” I say, and my cheeks blister with shame.
“You were scared?” June asks. Her tone is softer, gentler. I feel undeserving of her understanding.
“I-I don’t know what happened to me,” I confess. “I saw a little girl. She’s probably your age, and a boy who looked about twelve, but then the older boy came out, and I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe or something. I choked. I wanted to go talk to them, but my legs were shaky and my belly felt all wobbly and squishy and I just couldn’t.” I feel so ashamed I wish I were a turtle with a shell I could tuck myself into. I cover my face with my hands. “I probably sound crazy right about now. I’m not making much sense.”
I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and drop my hands from my face. June kneels beside me.
“You don’t sound all that crazy,” she says soothingly. “I can’t say I know what I would do if I came across another human. I would probably chicken out too.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. She does what I do to her when she is feeling insecure.
“I should have gone anyway. I should have gone even though I was scared out of my wits,” I say. “I guess I am not as brave as I think I am.”
June shakes her head. “You are the bravest person I know.”
“I am the only person you know,” I say.
“Not for long,” June smirks. “And you are still brave,” she adds with a wink.
I shake my head. “No, I am not. I chickened out twice. I saw them again yesterday, and I think the older boy saw me. But like an idiot, I ran off. Trust me, I am not brave. I am a coward.”
June considers what I’ve said and I expect her to erupt and scold me. I deserve it. I had a perfect opportunity to meet one person from the family, to not be outnumbered or overwhelmed, and I blew it. I ruined my chance by running away.
“You were scared. So what?” She shrugs. “I don’t blame you. I probably would have done the same thing. Besides, we need to be careful, even with other humans. What you did doesn’t mean you aren’t brave.”
“I don’t know, June. Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared, that you do things without fear. I always thought being brave means doing something despite being scared.”
She is quiet for a mom
ent then tsks at me and smiles sadly.
“You are mean to yourself, you know that, Avery,” June says, and rests her head against my shoulder.
“And you are too kind to me,” I say and kiss her forehead lightly.
She flashes a lopsided grin at me. “Okay, so when are we leaving to meet them?” She claps her hands together in excitement.
“I am going to them as soon as we wash and eat,” I say and emphasize the word I.
“I am coming too, right?” June asks with a smile.
“No, June, you can’t,” I say matter-of-factly.
“What? Why?” Her smile collapses completely.
“June, the family is not the only discovery I made in the woods when I went hunting,” I tell her. Remorse swirls in my gut. I am about to stab a dagger through the heart of her hope.
“What do you mean?” she asks, and I can see fear flicker in her silvery eyes.
I fill my lungs then blow out a breath through pursed lips.
“Yesterday, on my way back from watching the family, I came across two Urthmen.”
Her face drops “Oh no,” she breathes. “Oh, my gosh, no.” Her hands fly to her mouth, covering it.
“I killed them both, but I think more are coming,” I say.
June looks as if she’s been punched in the stomach. “You fought them?” she asks. Her complexion is pale, and her bottom lip quivers.
“Yes, I did,” I say. “They are dead now. But where there were two, there will be more.”
June throws her arms around my neck and a small sob trembles through her body.
“You should never doubt your bravery,” she says, her voice a strangled whisper. “I am so sorry that happened to you.” She weeps.
“June, no, no, please don’t cry. I’m okay. I’m right here. I got them,” I try to reassure her.
“But you were out there alone, and could’ve been,” she says, but her voice trails off. “You could’ve been killed.”
Planet Urth Boxed Set Page 7