The stench finally drives me to the mouth of the cave, seeking semi-fresh air. I remember the days, not long ago, when every step toward the Scourge was torture. I keep telling myself it’s the poison we need to eradicate, not the sick ones. It’s working . . . sort of.
Voices approach—Fox and Pinion. They must be coming from the meeting with the Lofties. Maybe they’ll know something about Peree. I try to slow my anxious breathing.
“How did it go?” I ask.
“As well as could be expected,” Fox says. “They’re bitter, we’re bitter. It’ll take time.”
“Who did you talk with?”
Pinion answers. “Two women, Breeze and Blaze, and a few of the men. I thought they carried themselves well, especially considering one of the women lost a son in the Reckoning.”
I reach back to steady myself against the ice-cold wall. He can't be dead. He can't be. Grief twists my gut. I run out of the caves. The late-afternoon sun hangs heavy on my shoulders as I stumble through the clearing. Groundlings speak to me, but I ignore them.
I end up on the path to the water hole. Birds sing around me as if nothing is wrong. I find the sled, and crumple against it. But the sled reminds me of Peree, and thinking about him feels like being stabbed.
Two voices move down the walkway above, one male, one female. At first I think I’m imagining them. That I want to hear his voice so bad I’m conjuring it. But then I hear it again.
“Peree!” I yell. Silence. Did he not hear me?
“Fennel." He doesn’t sound right at all. There’s no trace of the warmth and humor I’ve grown to love. The knots that were loosening inside me suddenly cinch up again.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Fine. You?”
“Not really.”
“Sorry to hear that.” He sounds distant and completely uninterested, as if he’s talking to a stranger. Or worse, to a Groundling.
“I thought you were dead." I can't keep the quiver out of my voice.
“Not quite yet.”
“Can we talk for a minute? Alone?” He's quiet for so long I’m not sure he’s going to answer. “Peree?”
I hear him speak to his companion in a low voice, then one set of footsteps follows the walkway back toward the clearing.
“I’ll meet you at the platform by the water hole,” he says to me.
What's wrong with him? I chew on my nails as I walk, but I stop quickly. They’re filthy. Water breaks on the shore of the water hole, and a few geese honk. It sounds deserted, but it probably won’t be for long. Peree steps onto the platform above my head.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asks.
“Can you come down here?”
He hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Then I’ll come up, if it makes you more comfortable,” I offer.
“Always the brave one,” he mutters. I frown, hurt by his tone. “I’ll come down.”
I can’t stop fidgeting as I listen to him release the rope ladder and climb down. Why is he acting so strange? What does it mean? Is it because of the Reckoning? Does he no longer feel the same about me?
“Peree, what’s wrong?” I ask, the moment I hear his feet touch the ground. He grunts in pain, and I wonder if his leg is any better.
He ignores my question. “Why did you think I was dead?”
I tell him what Pinion said.
“They were talking about my grandmother, Breeze. Shrike’s mother. You heard Kadee yelling for me to come to him when she saw he was hit.”
It takes me a moment to realize what that means. “Then . . . Shrike is dead? Oh, Peree, I’m so sorry.” I reach out to him, but find only empty space. I drop my hands to my sides. “Aloe, too,” I say. Shrike might not have been my father, not really, not in the ways that count. But I can’t help feeling like I lost two parents in the Reckoning.
“I heard. I’m sorry.” His voice is a little kinder, and it gives me courage.
“I thought–”
What did I think? That we’d run off into the sunset together? That our little fairytale could have a happy ending, like one of Kadee’s stories? He’s a Lofty. I’m a Groundling. I knew all along we had no future together. The Reckoning just proved it. And now Peree's obviously changed his mind.
“Forget it,” I say. “I only wanted to know if you were all right.” He doesn’t respond, so I turn back toward the path.
“Took you long enough."
I whirl around to him, allowing anger to cover my anguish. “Were you listening? I thought you were dead! And in case the bandage on my head isn’t obvious enough for you, I was hurt! You could’ve come to check on me, too, you know.”
“I went in the caves once to find you, and my father was killed as a result.”
Is that it? He blames me for Shrike’s death? Guilt washes over me again. “I lost people, too.”
“How’s your . . .” He doesn’t finish.
“My what?”
“Your intended. I heard he was injured, and you haven’t left his side.” Bitterness oozes from his words.
“My intended? You mean Bear?”
“What, is there someone else, too? He put that thing on your arm that meant you were partnered, didn’t he?”
I throw up my hands. “And you gave me the bird without telling me what it meant! I feel like a piece of land people keep trying to claim by sticking stuff on me! Why doesn’t anyone bother to ask me before they decide I’m partnering with them?”
His breath quickens. A cautious note slips into his voice, nudging out the resentment. “What are you saying? You aren’t partnering with him?”
I take a deep breath to calm the raging storm of emotion inside me. Peree’s alive, and he doesn’t hate me. He’s only acting like a boar’s back end because he’s jealous. I can deal with that. I hold my arms out and twirl around slowly.
“What are you doing?” He sounds like he thinks I’ve lost my mind.
“You told me in Koolkuna that I had ties here, and you were right. But look, not anymore. I’m . . . untied. And no, I’m not partnering with Bear.”
He almost knocks me over when he grabs me. “I was going crazy the past few days, Fenn. First Shrike . . . then I didn’t know what happened to you . . . then I heard you were alive, but you were staying with Bear–”
I touch my lips to his, quieting him. Then I sketch the curve of his eyebrows and the length of his coarse sideburns. His lips curve under my thumbs. He takes my hands, still cold from the caves, in his, warming them.
“So . . . are you still looking for an ending to that story about the boy and the girl?" I ask. "I think I have one you’ll like.”
“Do you?” Peree murmurs. “What is it?”
“The girl loves the boy, too. She loves him, and she stays with him.”
“I don’t know . . . that wasn’t exactly what I was looking for,” he says, and I laugh. “Okay, twist my arm. It’s good.”
“You’re the only one I want to be with, wild boy. If you’ll still have me.”
His kiss answers my question, and a few more I would’ve been embarrassed to ask out loud. I snake my arms around him and rest my cheek on his chest. His heart is beating at a satisfyingly breakneck speed.
“Peree?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t know if Kadee told you, but we’re kind of . . . related.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
“It would if it were true. It would bother me a lot that I feel this . . . bothered, about my sister.” He nuzzles my neck. “But it’s not like we’re natural siblings. Does it matter to you?”
I smile. “Somehow I feel like it should, but no, not really.”
A group of children run past. Most of them head straight into the water like a flock of gabbling geese, but a few slow down and whisper to each other when they see us.
“I should go back up,” Peree says, “before the full-grown ones come along.�
��
I squeeze him tighter against me. “No, I invited you down, and you’re staying until you’re ready to go.” What did the Reckoning accomplish, if we don’t take this chance to change some of the rules?
“Always the brave one,” he says again, his voice warm this time. “But I have to warn you, I may never be ready to go.”
“That works for me.”
“Hey, Kadee wants me—us, now—to speak at the next Confluence, to tell everyone more about the Scourge, and present Nerang’s offer.”
“Confluence?”
“That’s what they’re calling the meeting today.”
“I like it,” I say.
“It’s a start. So . . . do you still have my bird? There’s something I need to ask you.”
I retrieve it from my pocket and hand it to him. He offers it back with a very sweet, very formal request for me to partner with him. I accept, and we create our own version of a Confluence, with a not-so-formal meeting of mouths and arms and bodies.
I tug on Peree’s hand, pulling him to the water. Soon we’re laughing and splashing alongside the children. I help him up from a half-decent float and he gathers me into his arms.
“This is like my dream, the one I had in the caves about us swimming together. Only now I get to show you what else we were doing.” He kisses me thoroughly, prompting an outburst of giggles from the children. I wonder if anyone else can see us. I don’t care. Let them think what they want.
Happiness pours over me . . . in sharp contrast to the ache in my heart caused by Aloe’s absence. I wish she and Shrike were here to share our joy. I don’t know if they would have, but I like to think so. Eland told me Aloe never lost hope that I would come home. He said she never doubted me, or my loyalty. I don’t know if that’s the truth, or if he’s telling me what I desperately want to hear.
I’ll miss Aloe’s voice, her strength, the comforting warmth of her rosemary-scented skin. She was the only one who really understood the challenges of being Sightless. The only person in the world who knew about my secret scars, the ones I keep hidden away inside. She kept hers hidden, too. I wish I had the chance to ask her all the questions I’d been saving up since I became the Water Bearer. I wish I could have told her what she meant to me.
It occurs to me that collecting the water may not be my responsibility for much longer. What will I be now, if not the Water Bearer? What can I contribute as my people try to shape a new relationship with the Lofties, and maybe with the anuna? For the first time I face a future that hasn’t been predetermined for me. I get to choose. It’s thrilling, and scary.
I hope what we gained the past few weeks will outweigh all we lost. As I hold the one I love—a Lofty, no less—I have to believe it does. But maybe it’s not a question that can ever really be answered. Maybe we just have to cling to the faith that because of us, and through us, hope will live on.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband and children for their patience and understanding the past few years while I "just finish this one thing" on the laptop. I love you guys.
Thanks also to my parents, Fran and Bill, for always supporting me in whatever I want to do. Thanks especially to Mom, who encouraged a love of literature by helping me check out stacks of books at the library, and reading them to me in the front seat of the station wagon while waiting for my sister to finish her kindergarten day.
Speaking of my sister, thanks, Ginger, for always being my biggest cheerleader. And Andy, for being hers.
To Hilary, my BFF and first reader, for encouraging me to keep writing past Chapter Six. To Jenny, for her unconditional enthusiasm and conviction that The Scourge will be a mega best seller. Kim and Shae provided very helpful feedback, and Ande and Nina round out the merry band of moms I turn to for friendship and wisdom.
Lana, Molly, Euell, and Warren were invaluable writing partners and beta readers.
Steve Lamar held my hand as I tiptoed onto the web and into social media. I've met few people as generous with their time and talent.
I owe a big thank you to Sarah Cloots, also known as L'Editrice extraordinaire, for her editorial work. Check her out at: http://clootsamini.com/
Lara Perkins, with Andrea Brown Literary Agency, provided amazing guidance with perpetual optimism.
And finally, I'm so grateful to my agent, Caryn Wiseman, of ABLA, for taking a chance on me.
About the Author
A.G. Henley is the author of the young adult novel, THE SCOURGE. She is also a clinical psychologist, which means people either tell her their life stories on airplanes or avoid her at parties when they’ve had too much to drink. Neither of which she minds. When she's not writing young adult fiction or shrinking heads, she can be found herding her children and their scruffy dog, Guapo, to various activities while trying to remember whatever she’s inevitably forgotten to tell her husband. She lives in Denver, Colorado. Find her at www.aghenley.com
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