by A. G. Henley
I dash back into the cave mouth, hauling him with me while he's still upright. He crashes to the ground a few steps inside. Other voices approach from the main cavern, probably coming for the water.
"Bear! Are you okay?"
There's no answer. I grab his scruffy cheeks and put my ear to his mouth. He's breathing, thank the stars.
So I leave him to the others and run out into the night, hoping against hope that I can still save my brother. Hoping he had as much courage as Bear did. But not believing for a moment that it would be enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
I run through the clearing, calling for Eland. I trip and fall over, scraping my knees and palms. Ignoring the pain, I pick myself up and listen. The sick ones roam around our shelters, probably searching for food. I push into each structure thinking Eland could have barricaded himself in somehow. But he's not here.
Where would he have gone? Kadee and I worked down by the water hole for some time. If he'd been there, and still . . . himself, I would have heard him. Where else could he be?
I search the gardens, listening to the sounds of the sick ones, hoping to make out a word. Rose talked to me after she became one of them. Maybe Eland would, too. Eland help me. Help me find you.
I wander, moving slower and slower, and end up by the water hole again. He wouldn't have left the area, not with the sick ones here. Not unless he no longer had the use of his reason.
Grief whispers malevolently in my ear, threatening to dissolve the last of my self-control. I can't lose Eland. How would I survive that? Losing Aloe was hard enough.
"Fennel." A man calls to me from the trees. His voice is quiet, but I still recognize it.
"Petrel! Eland's out here somewhere. I can't find him. I . . . can't hear him. Kadee and I were so busy with the water—" My words dip and weave. I'm dangerously close to losing it.
"It's okay, Fennel. He's with us."
I shy away from a few of the sick ones groaning for me and automatically lower my voice to match Petrel's, although I could sing with relief. "How did he get up there?"
"I found him hanging on a tree. Said he climbed up when the fleshies came. Sounds like he had to hold on for a long time, but he's fine."
I'm torn between crying and laughing, so I settle for inane chatter. “He is a pretty good climber, although he hasn't had much chance to practice." The Lofties don't allow us to climb their trees. "And I guess he was desperate to get away from the sick ones." But what I'm thinking is: Eland's alive.
"I came looking for you—figured you'd be worried about him. I can bring you up, but we have to be quick and quiet. Step toward the tree to your left. Here comes a rope."
I do as he says, searching the air over my head with my hands. I tie the rope quickly under my arms when I find it. Petrel pulls me up. Despite his warning, the ascent seems agonizingly slow. As soon as my feet touch the walkway, he hurries me forward without speaking.
Muffled voices carry from other parts of the treetops as we move. Smoke poisons the air. The tree-sickness strikes hard and fast; my stomach flip-flops like I'm somersaulting underwater. I grit my teeth and follow Petrel.
We make a few turns and stop briefly. There's a scraping sound—a door. We walk through, and he shuts it quickly behind us. I rejoice at the familiar scent—the reek of adolescent boy. Eland.
We cling to each other.
"You found her," Moon says. "Good."
"What happened?" I ask Eland. My voice shakes like the hand of an elder.
"I got cut off from Acacia and the others. We were by the water hole and heard the fleshies—I mean the sick ones." He's working on calling the Scourge something different, like Peree and I do. "We started running toward the caves, but a few of them were getting close to the little kids, so I sort of distracted them and took off in another direction. I had to climb a tree to get away, but I only got far enough up so I couldn't be dragged down."
I hug him to me, thinking about what might have happened if he had been forced to let go.
Petrel thumps Eland on the back. I feel it right through my brother's thin chest. "Little man's a hero. Although now that I think about it, he didn't look so heroic hanging onto that tree trunk like an overgrown spider."
I laugh. Thinking of him clinging to a tree, while frightening, is far better than the other, much more horrible scenarios that have haunted me since I heard he didn't make it to the caves.
"Would you like to sit down, Fenn?" Moon asks. She seats Eland and me on the same bench Peree and I shared before. I wish he was here now. "Are you hungry? Eland's already eaten."
She brings me a wooden board, perfectly smooth to the touch, and a small oilskin sack of water. I drink, eat some tart berries I don't think I've tasted before—maybe they only grow in the trees—and take a few bites of bread.
"I'm sorry there's not more," Moon says. "We have to ration ourselves when the fleshies are here, in case they make themselves at home. Petrel, you better go back. They'll be needing you as soon as it's safe to work on the walkway." Moon's voice accelerates as she speaks, like a bird beating its wings faster and faster.
I hear Petrel kiss her. "You okay?"
"We're fine. Go on, now. It'll look suspicious if you aren't out there helping."
Petrel leaves, closing the door firmly behind him. Abruptly, I realize the danger we may be putting Peree's family in by being up here.
"I'm sorry," I say to Moon. "I know this isn't exactly a great time to be harboring a couple of Groundlings. We don't want to cause you any trouble."
"Nothing we can do about it now," she replies, not unkindly. "And we should be okay; everyone was so focused on the fires . . . But what happened, Fennel? Of course people are claiming the fires were started by a Groundling, but how would one of your people even get up here? And why would a Groundling set a fire in the caves, the only place you can go when the fleshies come? That doesn't make much sense, does it?"
I tell them about the whisperer’s threats. Eland slides closer to me.
Moon makes a disgusted sound. "We finally have a chance to figure out how to work together, and someone has to go and do something stupid like this. I can't understand it."
"Where's Peree?" Eland asks.
"I'll leave that one for you to explain," Moons says to me, chuckling. She struggles to her feet, grunting a little. Eland and I hop up to help her. "I'm going to go see if I'm needed in the kitchens and make sure Thrush isn't underfoot. People are going to be tired and hungry after fighting the fire all evening.”
"What about the hunting party?" I ask her.
"Oh, we won't start worrying about them for a few days, at least. They always carry enough supplies to hole up in the trees for a while in case something like this happens. Don't worry, Fennel. Peree can take care of himself." She's bustling around the shelter now. Even heavily pregnant, she’s full of energy. I imagine she's a force of nature when she's not carrying a child.
"Now, you two stay in here,” she says. “Petrel will come for you when it's safe to go back down. Okay?"
"Thank you, again, Moon. I hope we haven't caused you any trouble."
I embrace her for the second time in two days, molding myself around her belly. They took a big chance, rescuing Eland and bringing me up here to be with him. And I just felt exactly how much they have to lose.
When Moon leaves, I take the opportunity to explore how their home is laid out. It's circular in shape, with the thick, supporting tree occupying the center of the space.
The sitting area is near the door, and the sleeping area is around the back of the tree, allowing the family a little privacy. There are two beds—one must belong to Moon's brother, Thrush—and several windows, which we avoid. Fading light filters in from outside. Evening can't come soon enough for me. I need to get Eland back to the relative safety of the caves, but we should wait until it’s dark.
The furniture in the shelter is solid and well built, and there's more of it than I'm used to. I keep knocking my shins and
already-sore knees on things like chairs and extra tables. The hazards of visiting the home of a woodworker, I guess. Carved into the tree trunk are small niches, places to store extra clothing, dishes, and a pitcher and basin for washing up.
Our shelter is about half the size of this one, although we had the same number of people living in it until Aloe was killed. Now that I think about it, the shelters in Koolkuna were larger than ours too. Maybe bigger, permanent homes are somehow a result of enjoying more safety and security. I wouldn't know. We haven't had that luxury.
Eland and I plunk down on the floor in the back, by the bed, to wait for Petrel to return. I wonder what's happening on the ground. The people will be distraught to be back in the caves again. At least I was able to deliver some water before I disappeared to find Eland. I hope Fox, Pinion, and Bream can get everyone organized and keep them calm. This is the first real test of the new Council's authority. Not that it's been exactly easy for them so far.
"Fenn?" Eland says.
"Hmm?" I put my arm around him.
"I tried. To think of them as human. To believe what you told us, that they wouldn't consume me, or turn me into one of them." He pauses. "I stood there while they got closer to me . . . but it was really, really hard. They look so scary, Fenn. Their faces . . . the blood and stuff . . . and all that screaming. I tried, but I couldn't do it."
I nod. "You don't need to feel bad. Even after Peree and I drank the pure water from the Myuna, and I could hear them speak, it was still hard to believe."
"Where is Peree?" he asks. I can feel him studying my face as I fill him in on Peree’s illegal activities.
"He'll be okay,” Eland says. “They only have to hold out until the Scour—, I mean the sick ones, go away."
"And when will that be, O Wise One?"
"Everyone says they won't stay as long as last time. Not even the elders remember hearing about them staying that long. It was a fluke."
I sit back against the wall, pulling him against me. "Hope you're right."
"Wow. If Adder had known the Lofties sneak off to hunt like that, he would've gone bat shit sooner."
I nudge him. "Watch your language. And don't tell anyone about it. Things are too tense right now to risk the Three finding out." I smooth my dress over my legs. "I wish Aloe were here."
I miss her more in this moment than I have since I first learned she was dead. I'd felt stronger grief and sorrow, but I really miss her calm strength right now.
"How are you doing?" I ask. "I mean about . . . her."
He shrugs. "I'm okay."
We haven't talked much about losing Aloe. But I want him to know he can. So I tell him how I feel. "It hurts. Every day it hurts. I miss her."
"Yeah."
I wait, but he doesn't say anything else. "Don't want to talk about it, huh?"
"Not really." His voice is thick.
I hesitate. I don't want to make things more difficult for him, but I don't want to lose an opportunity to draw him out, either. It's hard enough for me to talk about her. I try a different approach.
"You know what I miss? The way she smelled."
"Rosemary," he says after a pause.
"And something else, too. Something sort of sharp smelling. I miss her hugs, too. When she hugged me, it was like she gave me some of her strength. It kind of oozed out of her and into me. Know what I mean?"
His hair whispers against the wall as he nods. I tuck him in closer to me. Voices and footsteps pass by outside. It's been surprisingly quiet. Maybe these shelters are built sturdier than ours, like their furniture.
"Remember our midnight swims?" Eland asks.
I laugh. Who could forget? We weren't supposed to swim after dark—too dangerous—but Aloe said her mother used to take her and she was going to take us—rules or no rules. She didn't swim; she stayed on the shore to listen for trouble.
Eland and I loved those rare nights slipping through the cool water, staying far enough away from land to almost feel like we were the only people on earth. It was as peaceful as it got as a Groundling.
"I think I saw him once. While we were swimming," Eland says.
"Who?"
"Peree. I didn't know who he was then, but I think it was him. There was a really bright moon that night, and he was standing on the platform that looks out over the water. He was just leaning on his bow, watching us swim. He looked kind of sad. I wondered what a Lofty would be sad about."
"You'd be surprised," I say gently.
Someone pounds on something nearby. It must be a door, because wood scrapes together, and a voice answers. I can't hear the exchange.
"Nothing amiss there," a woman says. Her voice is clear now . . . because she's right outside our door.
"Moving on, then," a man replies. Chill bumps press up all over my body and my pulse quickens. It’s Osprey—the man who told Peree that Eland and I shouldn’t be in the trees. The door to our shelter shakes as the people bang on it.
Eland and I huddle together. The huge tree trunk should hide us from sight if they open the door. But not if they come all the way in and look around. My stomach knots like the roots of a plant with nowhere else to grow.
The door creaks open, and footfalls cross the sitting area on the other side of the tree.
"Look what we have here. A couple of Groundling fire bugs."
CHAPTER SIX
Darkness falls like a heavy, black cloak as Osprey and the Lofty woman push Eland and me down the walkway. Osprey has some kind of weapon he prods me with every time I slow down a little. It threatens to slice through the back of my dress and pierce my skin. He must be using it on Eland, too, because I feel him twitch uncomfortably.
I hang on to my brother's arm, fighting the queasiness prompted by rushing through the dark night sky, moving up and down walkways at a near run. I'm still sweating, partly from fear and partly because the air is warmer and more humid. Rain is coming.
I tried to ask the Lofties what they intended to do with us, but neither one spoke after they found us. They seem to be trying to make as little noise as possible. All I can hear are our hurried footsteps and the groans of the sick ones below. Even the night insects are hushed. I wonder if it might be worth shouting or making some other noise to draw attention to us. But I'm frozen in place by the weapon at my back and the hostility I feel boiling out of Osprey and the woman.
Before I can formulate any other kind of plan, we're back inside a shelter. This one feels smaller and more cramped than the other two Lofty shelters I've been in. My nose wrinkles. It smells like the place holds some kind of compost pile. Eland and I are shoved on to the dirt-covered floor. I try not to think about what kinds of creepy crawlies might be under us.
"What are you going to do with us?" I ask the Lofties again.
"You'll be disposed of," the woman answers curtly. The absolute lack of emotion in her voice sucks the last of the warmth from my body, the way rolling into the freezing Hidden Waters did. She clearly means what she said.
"Why? What did we do?" Eland asks. His voice is shaky, but he also manages to sound a little defiant. It makes me proud.
"Don't act like you don't know. You deliberately set a fire. That's an act of war," Osprey says. "And once you're gone,”—I have the feeling he’s speaking to me—“we can go back to some semblance of normal.”
"Normal? Is it normal for your people to dispose of twelve-year-old boys?" I ask.
"The boy was in the wrong place at the wrong time and definitely keeping the wrong company," the woman says.
"Then let him go," I argue. "He won't say a word about this—right, Eland? Let him go, and you can do whatever you want with me."
"Too late, I'm afraid," Osprey says.
Without another word, the Lofties step back outside, bolting the door as they leave. The wind has picked up; it carries off the sound of their footsteps and anything else they might have said.
"Are you okay?" I whisper to Eland after a minute.
He exhales in a s
mall whoosh of pent-up tension. "I guess. Except for the smell. It's pretty bad in here."
He stands and tries the door, but it doesn't give at all.
"Let's both try pushing on it," I suggest.
"I don't think it will help."
He sounds half-apprehensive, half-mutinous—like he used to when he knew Aloe was going to be angry with him for some mischief he'd made—but less frightened than I might expect. I'm reminded again of how much more mature he seems than a few short months ago. Everything has happened so quickly since I got home; there hasn't been time to process all the changes. Now we may be out of time.
I wish Peree would come home right about now. This is his territory. I'm lost in the trees. Those thoughts scatter the next moment like leaves across the forest floor. I've never relied on anyone to save me before, and I'm not going to start now.
"How do you think they knew we were up here?" Eland asks, sitting again.
"Maybe someone saw one of us with Petrel."
A grasping, choking thought sprouts in my head. What if Petrel or Moon told Osprey where to find us? Did they falsely accuse us of having set the fires? Maybe Petrel believed Eland really had set the fire when he saw him clinging to that tree.
I try to pinch off the poisonous shoot in my mind, but it’s not easy. Why do I think I can trust Peree's family? My friends don't trust him. Why would Moon and Petrel feel any different about me? If they got rid of me, they'd have Peree back and all would be right in their sunny, leafy little world again. But how could they involve Eland?
I want to believe that family means the same thing in the trees that it does on the ground. We take care of each other; we don't betray one another. But family has never included Lofties when you're a Groundling. Or vice versa.
The wind dashes and dodges through cracks in the shelter around us. Fingers of rain begin to drum against the roof. I hold Eland's hand, ignoring the filth.
"I think she knew she was going to die. Mother.” He stops. From his choked tone it sounds like he's wanted to let go of this for a while. When he speaks again, his voice is halting, and haunted. "She looked bad at the end, Fenn. Really bad. Kind of shriveled, like a thirsty plant in the garden. She didn't smile anymore, not even for me. I was scared, because Moray's brother and his knife were always hanging around me, but I was just as scared about what was happening to her." I squeeze his hand, letting him know I'm listening.
