Breeder: An Arrow's Flight Novel

by Casey Hays

  “He will come, and when he does, we will deal with them both together.”

  With a flick of her hand, she dismisses them and bounds up the steps and through her cabin door, slamming it behind her. Tara and several of the other members snarl at me as they move away. Old Anna Maria gives me a semi-sympathetic look again. Exhausted, I lean on my elbows. Being a rebel takes work.

  I assess my situation, raise my eyes to examine the huge elm raining long, low branches overhead. I’m prostrate before it, my palms pressed together. I sigh. The knots at my wrists are well-made, and I have no way of twisting my fingers to reach them. I will never be able to free myself. And what would I do if I did get free? There is nowhere to go.

  Soon enough, my courage turns to despair. I hoist myself up and lean back against the trunk as best I can, ignoring the pain that shoots through my healing scars when the bark scrapes against them. Let it hurt! It fuels my anger toward Mona.

  My hands hang awkwardly together from the ropes at shoulder level, and soon, my back aches from being twisted to accommodate this. So I turn again and face the tree. I feel hopeless, helpless. I tug fiercely at the rope, even press my feet up against the trunk for leverage, but the knots stay fast. I sink to my elbows and lean my forehead against the ropes.

  When I close my eyes Ian floods my thoughts. Mona is wrong. He won’t come back. Why would he? His one desire had been to get home. He will not bother to come here again.

  I hope.

  Chapter 18

  “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of our faith develops perseverance.” James 1:1

  I don’t move all day. Even if I had the energy to do so, there is nowhere to go. No one comes again—no Council member, none of the women, not even Diana or Mia. No one but Mona, who comes only to ensure that my wrists aren’t tied so tightly as to impair circulation. Her hard eyes reveal nothing, but in this one small gesture, I’m assured that she hasn’t completely washed her hands of me.

  But a curse is on my head, and other than this one interaction, no one else dares to tempt Fate by showing any kindness toward me.

  I lie on my back, my hands hovering uncomfortably above me and stare through green leaves and brown branches at the snippets of sky that are visible. Clouds gather in billowy puffs, and float lazily by until I see a sliver of blue every once in a while. I count each sliver until I’m up to four hundred, and I’ve grown tired of counting. I sing songs from my childhood. Songs from the nursery. The song Layla taught me about a field full of yellow daisies. I sing it quietly to myself:

  Flower, flower, beauty bright

  Keep my happy thoughts in sight

  Never let the wind mistake your petals

  For tiny drops of joy.

  Shield your face from every harm

  Let your scent give off its charm

  But never let the sun deceive your soul

  With tiny drops of joy.

  I realize now how depressing the song is, and how much it defines the Village, and I think if Layla had heeded the words, she may never have sung it again.

  And now… she never will.

  Later in the day, I see Mia and Diana peering at me from a distance. They wave, but they come no closer.

  At dusk, Mona steps out onto her porch, a bowl in her hand. She approaches; I painfully pull myself into a sitting position. She places the bowl in my bound hands. My mouth waters, but I only stare at Mona and pretend she hasn’t given me a piece of the heavens in the form of duck stew. It’s warm against my cold palms.

  “Eat up, Kate. You need your strength.”

  Mona squats next to me and waits. I continue to stare, unblinking.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask. “Is he really worth all of this trouble?”

  Mona’s expression is hard. She stares out at the trees for a long moment before she focuses on me again.

  “He is a threat to our way of life. If he returns to his own village, we might be exposed. It happened once before, and the end result was very ugly.”

  Her eyes turn soft, and somehow, I know she’s referring to Meg.

  “You’re afraid we’ll be exposed? Doesn’t that imply that we’re doing something wrong?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Watch yourself, Kate.”

  “I’m just curious,” I say. “You want no one to know about us, and you don’t want us to know that anyone else is out there. Why?”

  “I will not discuss this with you now.” She purses her lips, but on second thought she adds, “There is no reason for the women to know anyone outside of our village exists. It’s not important.”

  “I think it is.” I stare into her eyes boldly. “I think you do more harm by letting them believe a lie.”

  “Enough,” she says under her breath.

  I lower my eyes, but I ask the real question now—the one I’ve always needed to know.

  “What did Meg do to deserve death?”

  Mona’s sigh is deep and tired, and I lift my eyes to look at her. She sits back in the dirt and examines me closely.

  “I suppose you should know. Someday, I will be gone, and you should know . . . . ” Her voice trails.

  I’m quiet, soaking in her words that indicate she has no plans to kill me yet. I twist myself around as best I can to face her better.

  “The Council doesn’t know?” I ask.

  “They know some.” Her voice is stern, and I think of rocks falling off the edge of a cliff. “But they are not privy to everything. That’s the way it is. In time you will see how Fate handles the Village leader.”

  Her words stab at me viciously. How Fate handles the leader? I don’t like the suggestion in the words. I envision a large hand scooping me up and dropping me into the middle of a parched desert and then promising me tiny drops of water for the tip of my tongue only if I do its bidding. And if I don’t, I’m smashed out of existence. I shudder the image away.

  “Meg was the prize of the Village,” Mona says. Her eyes glaze over a little, the same way they did when she held Layla’s baby for the last time. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a part of Mona deep down that still feels something besides brutality. I’ve seen her like this more than once, but I quickly remind myself that I cannot let it fool me. I focus on Mona’s words with more caution.

  “She was exceptionally beautiful, as you know, Kate—more beautiful even, than you. So as her sixteenth birthday approached, we were determined to find the perfect mate. She had a very promising future as a breeder.”

  I remember. Meg was the most beautiful girl I ever knew. This is no lie. But I don’t remember Meg the breeder. I remember Meg my friend, who taught me how to do a cartwheel and how to braid my hair so that it resembled a fish scale. I remember the Meg who had these wild ideas about forming a girls’ club that only brunettes were allowed to join. I smile at the fond memories.

  But I also remember the day Meg was put to death, after hours of torturous screaming that anyone within earshot of the shack was forced to endure. By the time her execution took place, she was so badly beaten none of us could see even a trace of her former beauty. It was as if we watched the killing of a maimed and disfigured creature, completely distinct from us in all ways, and not one of our own. This memory floods me with the old familiar anger again as Mona’s voice penetrates the night air.

  “We found her mate, much like we found your own. Our trackers watched him for weeks before taking him captive and bringing him here. He was quite handsome, the best we’d ever seen. But he put up a good fight, and it took several of us to get him into his cave.”

  Mona relives the memory.

  “Meg had quite a time with him in the beginning.” Her voice is distant, as if she’s forgotten I’m here. “He would not cooperate. She would come back from the Pit each time in angry tears. Nothing she’d learned seemed to work with this male. He was a nuisance.

  “But soon, Meg reported a change in him. He began to soften toward her, a
nd their breeding became easy and natural. She was happier, which meant she was much more productive for the Village. Everything began to fall into place.”

  “So what changed?” I ask flatly.

  “Too many things.” Her eyes float off for a moment as she remembers. “For one, she fell in love with this dog. She would spend days, sometimes weeks with him, oblivious to the less than adequate living conditions.” She focuses on me and adds, “You were her friend. I suppose you recall seeing less and less of her?”

  I think back. It is true that I saw very little of Meg once her celebration ended, but I merely associated this with her new role, and nothing more. It was not unusual to see less of a girl after her duties became a regular part of her routine.

  “At first, we thought nothing of it,” Mona continues. “So we did not interfere. We should have.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Meg committed a terrible crime against the Village.”

  “What crime? Love?”

  I shake my head. If love is a crime, it’s the sweetest act of treason. I think of Diana and her plans to keep Tabitha from the nursery. This is love in its truest form.

  “Did you know Meg had a baby?”

  I freeze. Mona simply smiles.

  “Neither did we until it was too late.”

  “How could you not know?”

  It’s not a difficult thing to notice a woman who is with child in the Village, and I’m shocked that the Council could have been so unaware of something so obvious.

  “She gave birth in the cave,” Mona clarifies. “Her mate delivered the baby. She’d been there for weeks, so no one had seen her. And they had already hatched a plan for his escape. Once the baby was born, he left. And he took the child with him.”

  So here it is. Falling in love was not Meg’s crime. No. She gave the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of one tiny life and betrayed her people in the process. And Mona killed her for it. Diana’s face flashes through my mind again at the same time that a shudder rumbles through my body.

  “Somewhere out there, one of our own lives.” Mona’s eyes scan the trees, seeing beyond them. “And that child will never know the way of peace.” She spits out the word “peace’” as if it were a poison rather than a cure. “It will be exposed to the dangers of a man’s world. A world where the egos of men everywhere lead to arrogant battles for power and dominance. And those things always end in war.”

  Mona’s voice rises with each word she utters. There is hatred in her—hatred for all things relating to man, and her mission has been to feed us with this fury. I can sense it as if the very emotion is emitting from her body and trying to penetrate mine. So I tempt her.

  “And what about you, Mona? How are you any different?”

  “I do what has to be done to keep that from happening.” Her voice is cool. “It is very different, Kate.”

  I see no difference. Mona describes herself. I stare into my bowl of stew.

  “What does this have to do with Ian? He did not take a baby with him, I can assure you.”

  “True. But if he finds his way back to his village, which I’m sure he will not, but if . . . we will not hesitate to take every precaution to protect ourselves if he returns with others. Even if it means bloodshed once again for every one they send.”

  “You should not take people from other villages, Mona,” I whisper. “It’s wrong.”

  Mona tightens her lips and stands. “I’ve said enough.”

  She turns to go but pauses and looks at me one last time.

  “One more thing, Kate. It is customary for the leader of the Village to inform her successor of her future responsibility long before it comes to fruition. I am more than certain now that you are the one.”

  I raise my chin, but my eyes give her nothing.

  “And this is why you haven’t killed me when you would have killed any other girl for less than what I’ve done,” I say flatly.

  It’s a definitive statement, and she smiles with a kind of pride, as if she’s pleased I’ve caught on so quickly. But it doesn’t take too much wisdom to decipher how she functions, and I’m not surprised by what she does anymore.

  “I trust you will keep this information to yourself for the time being. The villagers are never informed beforehand. It’s too confusing for them to have to consider two leaders, even if one is not yet ruling.”

  I know immediately what she implies. It’s a mental game. She wants the women’s complete and conditioned loyalty. To raise another name with them too soon might cause her to lose some of her authority as they bend toward a future—and potentially better—leader, even if it is unconsciously.

  I understand completely. She wants to preserve her power.

  “How do you know I haven’t already told someone?” I ask defiantly.

  Mona smiles. “You haven’t. Discretion is one of your best assets. It’s one of the main reasons you were chosen.”

  I set my jaw. I hate that she knows me so well.

  “Get some rest, Kate, if you can.”

  She glances at the tree—at the ropes that imprison me—and she climbs the steps of her cabin and shuts the door.

  Only then do I lift the bowl of stew to my lips. It’s cold now, but it’s good. I’ve had nothing to eat since the porridge this morning, which I barely had time to touch before Mona came for me. I lick the bowl clean.

  I lie down. The billowy blue sky is now a dark panel of twinkling stars. I spot the Archer through the limited amount of sky visible through the trees, and I furrow my brow in aggravation. Even with the canopy of a million leaves hiding me from the night sky, he still manages to peek through and find me. Will I ever be able to free myself from his reign over my life? I trace his outline with my eyes and sigh. Only one good thing comes out of seeing him. Somewhere under this same sky, Ian sleeps tonight. Or perhaps he is gazing up at the Archer at this very moment. I choose to believe he is. I choose to believe he’s safe. He has to be.

  I touch my lips, remembering Ian’s kiss. Nobody ever talks about kissing when they come back from the Pit. Kissing is not a requirement of our duty. And until this morning, I would never have dreamed that it would have been so wonderful.

  I adjust my body. My hands are falling asleep where they dangle from the ropes above my face, but eventually, I drift to sleep—with Meg and her act of love heavy on my mind.

  Chapter 19

  “Greater love has no one than this . . . that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13

  I’m tied to the tree for four days. I see no one but Mona, who brings me small portions of food, drops them at my feet, and leaves. At night, the air is cold, and I huddle in my thin clothes, shivering. On the third night, Mona begrudgingly gives me a blanket, and I sleep somewhat more comfortably.

  Mona grows more agitated with each passing day. She grumbles to herself, glares at me on her way in and out of the cabin, until one night, she calls an emergency meeting of the Council. They traipse past me and convene inside her cabin, always ready to hear—and to perform—whatever Mona might suggest. It doesn’t appear that one of them has a mind of her own.

  Inside, their shadows flicker against the curtains. Their voices are muffled, and I can’t quite make out what they’re discussing, but I have an idea. Mona’s plan to bring Ian running back is failing.

  I’m straining to hear, and getting nowhere, when from the woods, a branch cracks. The sound penetrates me like the sharp point of a knife, and instinctively, I pull my blanket up to my nose as if this will protect me. For the past two nights, I’ve heard noises and have expected some wild animal to mistake me for dinner. I hold still and wait.

  When a shadow finally separates from the trees, it shocks the breath completely out of me.

  It’s Ian, on all fours, crawling toward me. Every few yards he pauses and waits, eying the cabin. My mouth hangs open in disbelief until he reaches me.

  “What are you doing here?“ I whisper frantically. He settles in beside me and wraps a
n arm around my shoulders.

  “Hi, Kate. Did you miss me?”

  He hugs me close, grinning. I shove at him.

  “Stop it, Ian. You have to get out if here. This is exactly what they’ve been waiting for. They will kill you if they find you. I swear, if you get caught, and I’ve endured all this for nothing—”

  “Relax, Kate. I haven’t been spotted yet, and I’ve been waiting out there two days. This was my first chance to get close to you. She’s finally distracted.”

  He tosses his head toward the cabin. I give it a wary glance. No one seems to have noticed that one shadow under the tree has now become two.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Well, I ran into a little problem.”

  “A problem?”

  Ian smiles and tilts his head a little. It makes me smile, too, because I confess—I’m so happy to see him alive. But I stifle it and look serious.

  “I don’t know where I am,” he whispers.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean that when your people brought me here, I was unconscious. I literally have no idea which way is home.”

  “Oh no!”

  Just as Mona had suspected. She was counting on him never making it back to Eden, and she just very well might get her wish.

  “But it doesn’t matter,” Ian nudges me gently. “Even if I’d found my way, I would have come back. Look at you. You’re tied up like an animal. I can’t leave you like this.”

  He fumbles with the knots for a second.

  “Yes, you can.” I push hard against his chest, but he only pulls me closer. “And you will. It is better that just one of us faces Mona’s wrath. I would rather you live. You have a life to return to.”

  “What?” He drops his hands. “And you think so little of your own life?” He lifts my chin until I have no choice but to look into his eyes. “Kate, you have sacrificed enough for me. I don’t expect you to die for me, too.”

  “You don’t belong in the Pit. And you don’t deserve to die because of me and my village, either.”