by Everly Frost
I held my breath as Snowboy launched himself off the cliff, leaping neatly onto the leopard’s back. He leaned over its neck as its wings closed over his legs, holding him safely.
The leopard didn’t stop as it touched ground, racing ahead with Snowboy on its back. Glacier responded by increasing her speed, playing catch up. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud at the sheer freedom of it as the two leopards sped across the mountainous landscape.
The animals were tireless. Even after a few hours, Glacier’s breathing remained even and paced as though she’d been bred to run. We’d descended far enough from the peak of the snow belt by then that the snow was thinner on the ground and small patches of plant growth showed through like glittering green jewels in the sparkling snow, the early morning sunlight catching the color. Too soon, Snowboy urged the second leopard to a smooth walk, drawing alongside us.
“What do you call him?” I asked, indicating the male leopard.
“This is Avalanche. He takes more risks than Glacier, but he’s very protective of her.”
“She’s not even tired,” I said, stroking the fur at the back of Glacier’s neck. She purred as she walked and I was sure that her initial fear of me had long passed.
“The leopards were designed to carry messages. They can run for hours and hours and carry anything you tuck behind their wings. They’re also exceptionally good at hiding in the snow.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Finally, we crested a hill and at the bottom of the incline was a stretch of flat land a few hundred feet wide, the odd giant gray boulder breaking the thinning snow that lay across it. Beyond it was the tree line and an expansive forest. In the far distance there was a building of some sort. Not a glittering tower like I’d expected to see, but something misshapen and crooked.
“That’s home,” Snowboy said with a smile. “It could take another hour to get there. Do you want to stop and eat or keep going?”
The wild elation of the ride on the leopards had taken over my heart and I wanted nothing more than to race toward my new home, but I hadn’t eaten or slept in a while. I wouldn’t make a good first impression if I fell in a heap once I got there.
“Why don’t we eat while we travel?” I suggested and he smiled at the compromise.
Drawing the last of the bread out of the pack, I urged Glacier down the slope. I swallowed the final mouthful by the time we reached the bottom and washed it down with water. The landscape had become rockier and leaf-strewn, but Glacier’s sure footing navigated the tricky patches with ease.
As we neared the tree line, Snowboy became alert, reaching across the space between us and gesturing for me to slow down. He drew his leopard closer to mine.
“What is it?” I kept my voice low, studying the trees and the shadows beneath them.
“Wait.” He drew his leopard to a halt and gestured for me to dismount too, his expression cautious but not afraid. I took my cue from his body language, sliding from Glacier’s back, keeping her close and waiting, not panicking.
A patch of leaves shifted around my feet. I leaped backward as the ground rose beneath me. It stopped. Then the leaves rustled and shifted again.
Now at a safe distance, I peered into the leafy mound.
A pair of bright eyes peeked back at me. They rose, greeting me from beneath a suit of leaves so carefully crafted that I could barely make out the shape of the boy beneath. The outline of his face was barely visible, but I caught his smile.
“Hi there,” he said, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
He threw off his camouflage and dropped the leafy bundle to the ground. He was just a kid, maybe eleven, with light brown hair and the most mischievous smile I’d ever seen.
He covered the short distance between us and hugged me, his arms squeezing around my waist as he pressed his head to my shoulder for a long moment. “You have a girl smell,” he said. “It’s real nice.”
I froze, but Snowboy laughed. “He does that.”
The boy released me. “I’m Pip. That’s not my real name. I’ve forgotten my real name. You can forget yours too, if you want.”
“Plenty of time for that later,” Snowboy said, ruffling Pip’s hair. Then Snowboy smiled at me. “There are three other boys hidden around you. Can you find them?”
I circled the area, studying the layer of snow, the leaves strewn across it, and the giant boulders on my left. If I wanted to hide, that was one place I’d go.
I turned to the farthest one and as I rounded it, I found a giant of a boy curled into a ball. Like Snowboy, he was naked to the waist, but his skin was dark, although it was painted gray to match the rock, intricately marbled so that if I weren’t looking carefully, my eye might pass right over him.
He drew himself up to his full height, up and up, way above me, at least seven feet tall. I backed away, one careful step at a time, retreating into the clearing as he followed me, dwarfing everything else around him. He was massive, his arms thick as branches, but his eyes were gentle as he stared me down.
“That’s Earthquake,” Snowboy volunteered. “But we call him Quake. He’s the best cook in the world.”
A grin broke Quake’s serious features. “Thank you, brother.” And to me, he asked, “Did you like the bread?”
“I did. Sourdough, yes?”
He gave me a nod of appreciation and inclined his head toward the trees as though he wanted to give me a clue. “I like to hide in the open, but my brothers prefer the darkness.”
The trees soared overhead as I approached them and judging by their height and the thickness of their trunks, they were hundreds of years old. Behind me, Snowboy and Quake began a quiet conversation about the bears.
“There was one south of the belt,” Snowboy said.
“That’s unusual.” Quake’s voice was surprised. “We have extra nectar supplies in the trees, but I’ll keep an eye out.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Snowboy said. “They left us alone all night.”
Their voices faded as I reached the trees. I dropped my backpack at the base of the nearest one. There were paths through the forest and open patches with broken branches and mossy crevices, but there were also parts overrun with vines. One tree nearby was covered in them, a density that I wouldn’t think much about if I were passing by, but it would make a good hiding place.
I ran my hand through the wash of cat’s claw dripping from the tree, but to my surprise, there was nobody there. I frowned and studied the vines again, pacing along farther into the forest, studying my surroundings.
In a not-so-obvious place, I found a pair of eyes among the foliage.
The vines rustled and the boy emerged. He pulled off his suit of camouflage—leaving him wearing pants with vines carefully attached to them. His skin was dark like Quake’s and his eyes were deep brown. He appeared older than Snowboy but was about the same height. There were droplets of moisture on his skin as well as the leaves around him as though he burned hot.
“I’m Blaze,” he said.
“Blaze,” I breathed. Unlike Snowboy, who radiated cool, this boy radiated heat. Sweat gathered on my skin under my layers of clothing. I backed away before I sweltered, knowing it would be dangerous to remove the jacket Snowboy had given me and endanger myself in the cold environment.
I fanned my face. “Don’t get the wrong impression. But I kind of need to keep my distance.”
Laughter danced in his eyes. “I’m not offended. I don’t want you to burn.”
Farther into the clearing, I assessed my surroundings. There were a thousand places to hide in there. I could’ve already passed the last boy and not even noticed. I could’ve stepped over him, walked by him, or he could be gazing down at me from the trees. Many of them were thick with foliage that would camouflage someone trained at staying still. I sighed. I hoped Snowboy wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t find the last boy on my own.
As I began to return to where he and the others waited at the edge of the tree line, s
omething glinted, catching my eye.
A strange object hung from a tree a short distance along the path. The crunching of my feet in the forest bed was the only sound as I approached it.
It was a bird, but not an ordinary bird.
Its feathers were brown like the tree branch and mottled with green like the leaves around it. It was the size of my forearm, its wings resting close to its body. It might have been majestic except that it hung upside down, its metallic feet still attached to the branch by wire threads, pieces of metal and technology protruding from its chest.
Not a real bird, after all.
“What is that?”
A voice close to my right said, “A camera.”
Chapter Five
I JUMPED backward, seeking the owner of the voice. All I found were shadows.
The farthest branch rustled and the boy spoke again. “The Council tried to be clever. As if we wouldn’t notice all these new birds suddenly living in the trees.”
I studied the inner workings of the mechanical creature as I remembered the conversation Ruth and Jonah—the other southern Councilor—had had on the day I’d arrived. They’d said something about cameras being broken and not being able to put up more of them. The damage to the fake bird certainly appeared to have been catastrophic. “Looks like you made short work of it.”
“It and every other one like it.”
Again, I searched the tree for the origin of his voice, but try as I might, I couldn’t pinpoint it. It seemed to be both upward and coming from the side at the same time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was in multiple places at once.
He said, “We won’t forfeit our freedom or our privacy. We aren’t animals.”
I circled the tree, but I didn’t really think I’d find him hiding on the other side of it.
What I did know was that I wasn’t going to find him from the ground.
I took a run up and jumped for the lowest branch, catching hold of it and swinging my body at the same time, using the branch like a trapeze. The grips on the gloves held nicely and protected the skin on my hands, allowing me to swing one leg up onto the branch and leverage my body onto it, lying across the broad bough with my head in the direction of the trunk. I caught my breath and planned my next move. The tree was massive and its foliage dense. Now that I was higher up, I could see its branches better as well as the smaller spaces between its leaves. I looked for the spaces that had no gaps, no sunlit spots shining through, that would tell me where the boy hid.
There. I’d found him.
As soon as I began to speak, he shifted. There was a small rustle and sunlight suddenly returned to the space he’d occupied…
He was gone. But how? And where to?
I quickly scanned the ground, but I was sure he hadn’t dropped down to it. I saw that the other boys had arrived and were watching me from below, but I returned my focus to the branches above me, wondering if the boy would speak again and reveal himself.
I waited, but it seemed not.
I returned to scanning the leaves, studying them. Just as I thought I’d found him, there was another shift and again he was gone. And yet, if I looked closely enough at the space where he’d been, it was as if a shadow remained. If I really looked at it, I could make out the barest outline of something in the branches. I scowled as my eyes darted around the dense leaves, confused, wishing I could leap my way through the branches and catch him.
But that would invite a nasty fall.
Still, if he was intent on moving higher, then I had no chance at all if I stayed on the lowest branch. I steadied myself and reached for the next one, leveraging myself up again. I didn’t look down, pretending the ground was a foot below me and not a growing ten feet. Once there, I scooted closer to the tree trunk so I had something to lean against and steady myself. Resting on the branch, my legs dangled, and I pretended I had nothing better to do than enjoy the scenery. Still trying not to look down, I focused on the surrounding trees, hoping he didn’t have some magical way to transfer himself to a different one.
I said, “You might be able to move as fast as Snowboy, but I can find you.”
There was another shift, as though he tested my words and I followed the rustle of leaves this time, looking upward and to my right to the place he ended up, finally making out the shape of a face with sharp eyes in the foliage.
I tried not to smile. “I’m not going to chase you, because I don’t know you and I don’t owe you anything. But I want you to know that I see you.”
The eyes narrowed. The leaves rustled in multiple places—one spot to my right and two others to my left—and in the next moment there was a soft thud as the boy dropped to the ground.
He landed on his feet with the barest bend of his knees. His skin was pale but also painted like Quake’s, this time with green swirls to match the leaves. He raised one eyebrow at me.
I scowled down at him. Now he was down there, but I was all the way up in the tree. I took my time returning to the lowest branch. As I prepared to swing myself from it, Quake strode over and reached for me, gesturing for me to drop into his arms.
He was tall enough that his head was higher than the branch and I leaned down toward him and slid into his arms. I appreciated that he held me only as tightly as he needed to make sure I didn’t fall before releasing me. My feet touched ground and he let go immediately, turning to the fourth boy with a grin.
The boy from the tree frowned back at me, assessing me. Unlike the others, there was a prickly air of reserve around him. He kept his distance, observant, the polar opposite of Pip, who edged up close to me again. I smiled briefly at the younger boy as he took my hand before turning to the last boy again.
“What was that?” I asked. “The way you moved up there?”
He didn’t quite meet my eyes, glancing at Snowboy instead.
Snowboy grinned as the boys moved into a circle around me, filling the clearing while the leopards rested in the snow beyond the trees.
Snowboy cleared his throat. “Guys, this is Ava.” He gestured to each of the boys. “Ava, you’ve met Earthquake, Blaze, and Pip.” Then he pointed to the reserved boy. “This is Rift. We never leave the tower without packing nectar.”
“Even Pip?” I asked, meeting the boy’s innocent eyes as they glowed that much brighter.
“Especially Pip. And as an extra measure we don’t let him out of our sight.” He moved to ruffle the boy’s hair again and Pip rolled his eyes, batting away the affectionate gesture.
“But since you asked about what Rift can do, you should know that we each have something we’re good at.”
“Snowboy’s fast,” Quake said, his voice rumbling. “And he can harness the cold.”
“I kind of noticed.” I smiled.
Snowboy shrugged. “But I usually like to give people a fighting chance.”
His words had barely been spoken when he disappeared in a puff of air. There was a whisper across the trees and the hair at the nape of my neck lifted. A breeze shimmered around me and in the next moment, my arm was moved by an unseen force; my glove suddenly disappeared and something else touched my hand, the lightest caress. A green leaf appeared in my upturned palm. It was cool, frozen, with a web of icy veins across it that reminded me of the nectar in the rose in my pocket.
I looked up just in time to see Snowboy reappear and take a step back with another shrug, my glove in his hand.
Blaze strode forward and I’d been right about him burning hot. I got the feeling he was turning it down as he took my hand—the one with the frozen leaf—and cupped both his hands around mine. He lifted my knuckles to his lips, smiling as he blew very gently over them.
When he removed his hands, releasing me, I opened my palm to see that the leaf had thawed and water dripped through my fingers.
I stared at the perfect, unharmed leaf. It was green again. Not burned or shriveled like I would have made it. “How do you control the fire?”
“I’ll teach you how,” he
said.
Hope burned in my chest. If he could warm a leaf without burning it—or me—then maybe he could teach me how to control the fire that raged when I took nectar. Maybe there was hope for me.
Blaze nudged Quake’s shoulder, drawing my attention to the large boy. “Quake’s strong. But he’s going to keep it low key—right, brother?”
Quake strode up to me and gestured at the leaf in my palm. “A leaf.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes at Snowboy. “The lady deserves more than one.”
Fists clenched, he pounded up to the nearest tree and gave it a shove. It creaked and shook and a rain of leaves glimmered in the air. Quake took a deep breath and blew into the maelstrom. Like Blaze, his movements were gentle and I sensed he was being restrained. I didn’t have time to think more about it because suddenly, the leaves were dancing. A gentle dance of green. They cascaded as far as the leopards and the snow outside the forest and I had the urge to chase them. I turned on the spot, the first dance since the festival. The memory sobered me and I paused just in time for one of the leaves to spiral down into my hand. I caught it and kept it beside the other one in my palm.
As the last leaf settled on the ground, Quake said, “I could push the tree over if I wanted to. But I don’t destroy anything without a reason.”
I met his solemn eyes. “I believe you.”
He grinned again. “It’s Rift you need to worry about.”
The fourth boy was suddenly beside me, a blur as fast as Snowboy, his hand clenching around my arm. I stared into his dark brown eyes as they paled, then became transparent. Suddenly I could see through him. Except that his hand was still on my arm and it was incredibly strong…
“Over here,” he whispered.
My head snapped to the left and there he was, standing across the clearing—as well as beside me.
There were two of him.
Before I could even gasp, he said, “And here.”
Now there were three of him.
My eyes widened. “But…” I stared down at the hand on my arm and tried to break free of his grip. “You’re still right here.”
