by Kate L. Mary
The trees broke up as we stepped into the clearing that was our village. Just as I had thought, there was a fine dusting of snow on the ground. I had spent the last leg of our walk with my hands out in front of me, allowing the flakes to fall on my palms while Mira scooped up handfuls of snow that had gathered at the bottom of trees to place on the welts. As a result, some of the sting was gone by the time we crossed the threshold of our village, and the swelling had gone down significantly. I knew Adina, the village healer, would have something to help with the sting even more than the snow had, and I planned to make a visit to her once I let my mother and Anja know I was home.
Our huts stood tall and dark against the white blanket, dozens upon dozens of them. Smoke rose through the holes in the roofs of most, indicating that the families had settled in for the night. Here and there a person was visible: hauling wood in from the forest, patching a hole in their roof that had gone unnoticed before the snow began to fall, or dragging a kill in from the woods after a day of hunting. I spied Bodhi in the distance doing just this, his blond hair wild and wavy as he crossed the village and headed to his hut. A forest cat was draped over his shoulders, its fur as white as the snow. I found my gaze following his progress as Mira and I moved deeper into the village. It was always this way with Bodhi. He had been my closest friend during childhood, but had evolved into something else over the last few years. He was a man now who possessed muscles that boasted of his masculinity, and a smile that could wrap itself around my heart when it was directed my way.
“Will you talk to Ronan tonight?” Mira asked as we slowed to a stop in front of my hut, tearing my thoughts from Bodhi.
Like all the others in our village, my home was primitive compared to the houses in Sovereign City, and even those in the Fortis village. We made our huts out of branches and sticks, packing the gaps with mud in an effort to keep the weather out. The roof was much the same, made of layers upon layers of sticks, followed by mud and large leaves, with a small hole in the center to vent the smoke from our fires. The hut I shared with my mother and sister was smaller than the dining room in Saffron’s house, but provided more than enough space for the three of us to live comfortably. Even before my father’s death there had been more than enough room.
“Yes,” I said, my gaze searching the village for Bodhi again. He had disappeared, though I had no doubt that I would see him later. “Saffron wants to meet Ronan as soon as possible, and as long as his mother can spare him tomorrow, he will come with us in the morning.”
“He will be pleased.” Mira’s smile remained firm, but the sadness in her eyes told me how much she wished her own brother could have the position.
“He will.” I turned toward my hut when guilt over not being able to do more squeezed my insides. It was unfair, and out of my control just like most things in life were, but it still made me ache for the pain of my people. “I will see you tomorrow, Mira.”
Both my mother and Anja were inside when I stepped through the door. Our mother lay on the bed with a thick fur curled around her body and her arms stuck out so she could hold a bowl of stew. The bed was made of animal hides and stuffed with leaves and other foliage from the forest. It was thin and narrow. Nothing like the huge, soft things the Sovereign slept on, and I felt a pang in my chest yet again when I thought about how much more comfortable she would have been in one of those beds. How much more rest she would have been able to get.
When my mother saw me, she paused in her eating and smiled. “Indra.”
As always, all it took was the gentle tone of her voice to make me feel at home. To help me feel safe.
My sister looked up from where she sat on the floor, the pot of stew in front of her and a bowl in her own hand, and smiled as well. When Anja set her bowl down and moved to prepare one for me, I waved for her to stop. She froze, her eyes on my hands.
“I am okay,” I told her.
The stew now forgotten, Anja stood and crossed the small distance to me. “Let me see.”
My sister was younger than me by six years, but taller and lankier, all wiry muscles while I was slim enough to be able to pass for a child. Anja took after our mother, who was her real mother but mine only because she chose me. They both had the same deep brown skin, dark eyes, and black hair, which they kept cut close to their scalps. Their skin was as dark as mine was light, and with my hands held in my sister’s, my flesh looked as pale as the snow that was at this very moment covering the ground outside our hut.
The only similarities my sister and I shared were the passage markings above our eyebrows, four dots that signified the family we belonged to, and the half circle on our cheeks that had been given to us upon our father’s death. Unlike her, I had a line above mine that indicated the loss of my birth parents as well. I had come into this family when I was just a baby, but from where or whom I did not know or care. Dichen was the only mother I had ever known, and there were too many daily concerns to worry myself about people I would never meet.
My mother frowned up at me from her place on the bed. “Saffron had a bad day?”
“I think I am the one who had a bad day,” I told her, but I knew what she meant.
As much as I had refused to admit it to Mira earlier, I knew that I was Saffron’s favorite. She may have enjoyed inflicting pain, but she also prided herself in how compliant I was. It was why I was loaned out to other houses more often than anyone else, why Saffron had asked me to find a Hand for Lysander. She felt that I could be molded better than most, which I supposed was true. I did as I was told and made sure it was done well. In Sovereign City, there was no room for error. Not when I had family depending on me.
“Does it hurt much?” Anja asked.
I shook my head as I pried my hands from hers and started undoing the buttons on my dress. The motion stung, but I worked to keep my face expressionless. Just like in the city, I did what I could to control my emotions. It would do no one any good for me to show my pain.
“I am fine, and I will be even better after I see Adina. I only stopped in to change and let you know that I made it home okay.”
Anja remained rooted to the floor even after I had turned away and pulled my dress over my head. I grabbed my own clothes, made from animal hides that were thick and would do a better job of protecting me from the cold. The fur that trimmed my shirt was soft against my skin, and being in it made me feel better. Not just warmer, but more comfortable because I was home with my family and wearing my own clothes.
My sister was still watching me when I turned, so I grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug. “Eat, Anja.” I lifted myself onto the tips of my toes and kissed the top of her head the way I had when we were both young and she was still shorter than me, and the fibers of her hair tickled my lips. “I am fine.”
Anja did as I said and returned to the floor while our mother watched me from the bed. It was then that I noticed how ashen her complexion was compared to my sister’s, and how sunken her eyes had begun to look. The black passage markings she wore stood out against her dark skin more than ever before, the swirls over her eyebrows for the family she had been born into, the dots and lines in the center of her forehead that she had received on her wedding day, and the numerous markings on her cheeks that showed how much loss she had suffered during her lifetime. Too much for one person.
I took a seat at her side and felt her forehead, and was rewarded by the feel of cool skin against mine. She leaned her head against my damaged palm, and not even the smallest sting accompanied the gentle gesture.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
“I should be asking you that,” she said. “I am the mother.”
“But I have already told you that I am okay.”
She nodded, relenting. “I am fine, child. Go see Adina. Get something for your pain.”
“I will.”
I stood, but stayed where I was. I had things to do, but I found myself wishing that I could curl up on the bed beside my mother the way I had when I was
young. It was impossible though, not right now anyway.
“I also need to stop by Ronan’s hut,” I said. “Saffron is looking for a Hand for Lysander, and she has asked me to choose someone.”
My mother’s face broke out into a smile, revealing teeth that were startlingly white beside her dark skin. “His family will be pleased.”
“And there are others who will be furious with me for not choosing them.”
Voicing my concerns did nothing to ease my worry the way I had hoped it would. I knew nothing could, but I also realized that I was not responsible for the things that happened. The opposite, really. I had no control over them. There was nothing I could do to ease the burden the Outliers carried, or pull them out of poverty and starvation, and I could not offer them more than they already had. I wanted to, so much, but it was not within my power. There were too many obstacles in my way, both as an Outlier and a Winta woman.
My mother reached up to grab my hand, giving just the tip of my fingers a gentle squeeze. “You cannot make everyone happy no matter how hard you try.”
“I know,” I said with a sigh.
“But you always try anyway,” she replied with a knowing smile on her face.
“I always try anyway,” I agreed, but unlike my mother, I found smiling impossible.
5
Adina gave me a salve for my wounds, promising that I would be as good as new within a couple days. It was an impossible thing to promise, being as good as new, when we never had enough to go around. Life in the city was lavish, gluttonous and excessive. Their scraps were tossed to the Fortis, both to keep the men and women who guarded them strong, but also to maintain their loyalty. In contrast, we had to work hard for everything we were given. And there was very little work available. The Sovereign controlled the Fortis, using them to control everything else without even having to lift a finger.
The Outliers without jobs in the city hunted or gathered, but game could be sparse in the wilds. Most of the animals kept close to the river, which was Fortis territory. Inside the city the Sovereign grew food in climate-controlled buildings, giving them light and artificial rain whenever it was needed, but in the wastelands that surrounded the walls, nothing grew. The wilds were slightly better, but even here the earth grew crops very poorly, as if whatever had stripped the wastelands of their fruitfulness had poisoned our soil as well. Things had improved over the years, like the earth was slowly evicting the toxins from its depths, but we still had times when everything we planted shriveled before it could be harvested. Or worse, bore fruit that made us sick when we ate it.
I was one of the lucky few who had a position inside Sovereign City, a fact I tried to remind myself of as I rubbed the salve onto my aching palms. Most of the time it was easy, but there were moments, like this one, when it was a tough blessing to swallow. When it was difficult to remember that luck had brought me this pain, and that because of it my family was better off than others.
Ronan’s hut was on the far side of the village, and after getting the salve I headed there instead of home. Flakes still fell from the sky and the air had cooled even more with the setting of the sun, but the various fires burning throughout the village helped keep some of the chill away and prevented too much of the snow from collecting between the huts. Still, I longed to be back inside with my family so I could eat some hot stew and curl up on the bed to keep warm. So I could lick the wounds the day had inflicted upon me and allow myself a few quiet hours to heal.
Halfway through the village I caught sight of Emori. She was headed my way, a basket of pine needles under one arm and a belly so swollen that it strained against her clothes. The sight of her always made my insides flip, and today was no exception. She did not blame me, I knew that for sure, but it was much more difficult to forgive myself for what had happened. I had been in the kitchen when Lysander stepped into the pantry behind her, I had heard the door click shut and the sound of her cries, and I had done nothing to stop him.
Tears pricked at my eyes, and despite my earlier decision to talk to her about Isa, I found myself ducking between a couple of huts to avoid her. I swiped the back of my hand across my face as I went, hating that I felt so weak and out of control when I thought of that day, but knowing it would never change. Emori had needed my help, but I had done nothing. There had been nothing I could do, something I knew all too well, but the injustice of the situation did nothing to alleviate my self-loathing, just as I was sure the women who had been in the kitchen three years ago when Lysander cornered me felt the same way. We were not responsible, but in the absence of someone else to put the blame on, we had taken it upon ourselves.
I felt even more like a coward as I wove my way between huts in an effort to avoid Emori, but I did it anyway. The day had been emotional enough without throwing another log on the fire burning inside me, and at the moment all I wanted to do was talk to Ronan so I could get home to my family and wrap myself in their comforting embrace.
As he often did, Bodhi had something else in mind completely, and I had only made it a little further when he suddenly appeared in front of me, stepping out from between a few huts and blocking my way.
I stopped only inches from him, feeling his nearness more than usual thanks to my already emotional state. Outliers in general were taller than the Sovereign, although thin and wiry, but Bodhi was not a tall man. Still, next to my small frame he felt large. Especially in moments like this when I found myself feeling so helpless and weak. Usually, I found his presence calming, even more so than my mother and sister at times, or Mira. Bodhi and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, often spending the entire day together when were small. Now though, with my emotions swirling and my palms still stinging from my punishment, I found myself wishing to avoid him. I knew why. He could see through me better than anyone else and he knew me so well that I could hide nothing from him, and right now that was all I wanted to do. Hide.
His blue eyes swept over me, and without having to utter a word, he seemed to know what I had been through. He took my hands in his and turned them over so my palms were facing up. In the flickering light of the nearby fire, the welts on my skin appeared red and angry. But his skin was warm under mine. Comforting and familiar.
He said nothing, but instead leaned down and pressed his lips against each one of my palms. I was crying by that point, and when Bodhi wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, the sobs came faster and harder. The sting of the welts was only half of it. Seeing Emori had opened up a part of me that I liked to keep buried, but I was not a fool. Both the tears and my desire to avoid her were as much about my own time in the pantry with Lysander as they were about hers. It was easier to project that moment onto someone else though, to imagine that I had always been outside the door, powerless but less of a victim than the person inside. It could not change the truth, could not change the fact that I had at one time also been at Lysander’s mercy, but it did make it easier for me to get through the day. Easier to continue to do the work expected of me inside the city and pretend that the things I witnessed there left no mark on me. It made it easier for me to be the clay people like Saffron wished to mold.
When my tears had slowed, Bodhi stepped back. He kept his hands on my shoulders and looked me over. A few tendrils of hair fell across my forehead, damp from the swiftly falling snow, and I reached up to shove them out of my face. He beat me to it though, and the brush of his fingers against my forehead was gentle and soothing, as was the expression in his blue eyes. It made my heart pound faster. Made my mind wander.
I had grown up running from Bodhi as we played, and then for other reasons as we got older. At this point I felt as if I had been running from him for years, and yet he never tired of the chase. Had never given up hoping that he might one day catch me and make me his. I knew this just as surely as everyone else in the village did, and as much as I could not deny the fact that I yearned for him, I was not ready to stop running. Not yet, anyway.
“I hate wh
at you go through in there.” The tiny ball in his throat bobbed when he swallowed, and his grip on my shoulders tightened.
“It is no different than what anyone else has to endure,” I said. “We are only Outliers. We are nothing.”
“You are everything to me,” he whispered. “I would prove that to you if you would let me.”
His eyes, as blue as the sky, held mine as icy air whipped between the huts and rustled his wavy hair. The passage markings above his eyebrows were the only ones he had, and I found myself thinking that his misguided belief that he could fix all of my problems with only his love had something to do with that. He had no marks for the people he had lost because he had never lost anyone. His parents were alive, as were his two brothers. He hunted every day because he wanted to help his family and the whole village, not because he had to. Not because he was the head of a family who depended on him. Still, there was something very comforting about a person who was determined to make everything perfect, no matter how unrealistic that goal was. Truth be told, everything about Bodhi was warm and comforting. So why did I insist on running from him?
“If I could, I would go into the city and kill them all,” he whispered.
“They would catch you and then you would die.”
Terror twisted in my gut at the thought of Bodhi dying, and I suddenly knew why the idea of letting him love me frightened me so much. It would mean letting him in. If we got married he would swear to protect me, just as all the Winta men did when they took a wife. Only Bodhi would take the promise to heart. He would think it was his duty to right any wrong done to me, no matter the cost. Even if it meant going into Sovereign City and getting himself killed.
