With all the riders ready, Paw assigned everyone to their horses. It would be a long trek, at least four days, so he confirmed which ones would be ridden and which would carry supplies. Hainen and Lark had their favorites, and lucky for them, their animals felt the same way. When he pointed to Rebel and said my name, my heart skipped a beat.
Rebel requested me? He does like me!
The stable hands reconfirmed the fit of the equipment and tested the gear to make sure it could withstand the journey while the riders secured their weapons on themselves. Trisk fastened a satchel of small stones to her belt before helping Marsh tie the lower half of his quiver of arrows to his thigh. Her thumb purposefully brushed higher on his trousers than necessary, and his knee straightened in response. He hid his smile by faking a cough.
She stood, giving the quiver a tug. “Is this more comfortable?” she flirted.
“No,” he confessed, adjusting his bow across his back.
Spying on my brother and Trisk felt intrusive, so I pet Rebel instead. The reins made it more difficult to give him proper attention, but he didn’t seem to mind. I asked him about his living conditions and told him a bit about my own when Nik interrupted.
“I didn’t know you were a Communicator.” He patted my horse on the shoulder just below his mane.
“He’s always seemed to understand me but never says anything back. I think he’s mute,” I joked, and Rebel snorted. “See?”
Nik chuckled.
“What are you doing here? Are you coming with us?”
“No. I wanted to wish you safe travels,” he paused, “and apologize for last night.”
“If anyone should say they’re sorry, it’s me.” I pulled up my hood over my head when it started to sprinkle.
“You’ll be missed. By a lot of people,” he added quickly. Nik leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “So you know, you all come back safe and successful.”
He buttoned the top of my cloak, and the gesture brought me comfort. If we weren’t surrounded by these people, I would have expected a hug goodbye, but he kept the departure professional, which I appreciated with the curious eyes around us.
“Riders ready?” Lark called, his horse turning as if to ask his companions too.
“Off you go,” Nik said, stepping back so I could mount my ride. He helped tent my cloak, making sure the belongings secured on each side of the saddle would stay dry. We exchanged our silent goodbyes as our lead whistled for us to follow.
The gatekeeper pushed the gates open, holding it in place until he could pull it closed again. The thud of them closing behind me startled me. Being on the outside of the fortified camp, separated from the community, saddened me. I hadn’t been a resident for a season, yet it felt like I’d spent years there.
I reminded myself this mission couldn’t happen without me. No one else knew where the Nobu grew, and our people needed to protect themselves.
Our people.
When did I go from being skeptical of the Resistance to traipsing through the storms of Hytalia to defend it against the world? Did I believe in the purpose or the man who created the sanctuary?
The team rode single file through the woods until we reached the road, where there were no trees to shade us from the increasing rain. “Una! Marsh!” Lark yelled over his shoulder. “You take the lead!”
We broke from our scattered formation and made our way up front. “If we can make it there today, that would be best. You two can stop and see your family on the way back if you wish,” our leader suggested.
Marsh replied, “We’ll make better progress like this than we did when pulling the cart.”
“Perhaps we won’t be followed this time, eh?” Lark snickered.
* * *
I’m not sure if it was the raging downpour or because we were the leaders of the herd, but I had a hard time hearing the riders behind us. Every once in a while, I’d turn back to make sure we were still together, yet every time I did, my hood fell, letting rain inside the neck of my cloak. After the third time it happened, I decided it was their responsibility to keep up with us, not ours.
Hours had passed, and we’d made decent progress, even though we slowed down to a sustainable pace. I’d never been on a horse for so long. Sitting in one place didn’t seem like a chore, until now. My back pulsed, my rear-end felt bony, and my legs ached to be stretched. Did Rebel’s body feel as uncomfortable as mine did? So far the horses did all the work. They carried the supplies. Several of them had humans also. I wondered if they complained. Did they groan to Paw? If so, what would he say back? I stroked Rebel’s neck with my cold-wrinkled hand to show my appreciation. Perhaps a little affection now and again would help to keep his spirits high.
Seeing through the rain was impossible. With no breaks in the weather, I had no idea what time it was, and since I’d only been on this stretch of road on my way to the camp, I didn’t recognize any of the landmarks. Back at home, I loved rainy days. The harder the showers were, the more comforting the day felt. Add thunder rolling through the clouds, and it became magical. Those days, we’d stay shut up in the house with a hot cup of tea and our blankets, cuddled up to the fire, reading a book or working on a puzzle.
Riding a horse didn’t end up being nearly as enjoyable. In fact, everyone in our party felt pretty miserable.
The horses’ hooves disappeared beneath the flooded road with every step. I’m not sure I’d ever seen this much water collect on the surface before. No wonder the river was so high; there was nowhere else for the rain to go except into the valley. Every year, the fields drowned, bringing new nutrients for the coming crops. What would the Citizens do for food if the river’s height didn’t recede by planting season? Seeds won’t sprout in saturated soil. In our garden boxes at home, Mother said that if I overwatered them they wouldn’t grow at all—they’d only rot in the ground.
Without a harvest, people would be unprepared for Talium. If they didn’t prepare during Atchem, they’d starve in the following seasons. The Temple Storehouses filled each year but only because of the tithe enforced by the Authority. With the way they ate and what they wasted, there wouldn’t be enough for two years. If average Citizens couldn’t find food, what would they tithe with? Compassion and encouraging words don’t feed people. The Storehouse would run dry. I wondered how hard the Citizens would worship their gods then. How would they seek favor when they had nothing to exchange for it? Would they listen to portly priests lecture them about faith as their loved ones lay starving outside boarded shops in the valley?
At least the Temple would have something. Citizens were not allowed to stockpile more than they could use during Talium; it was considered unfaithful and was punishable under the law. The Priests and Priestesses had everyone believing over-preparing showed lack of faith, doubting the gods would return to us at the end of Talium. However, my parents once spoke of a cache existing for the upper class if ever the need arose. Laws of the land didn’t apply to them; why should the expectations of the gods?
Could Citizens survive without the market? They’d learned to rely on their shops full of things to purchase and trade. Would they know how to grow a carrot root or butcher a chicken? Oh, my. The livestock. What about them? What would they eat? The hills were thick with forest, although grassy plains existed in patches. Would the ranches migrate to a higher altitude rather than stay on what remained of the farmland in the valley?
Apparently boredom not only made me create problems that affected millions, it compelled me to solve them, too. Wasn’t there anything to captivate my thoughts other than issues that didn’t even exist?
“The road over there leads to the Daxins’ house,” Marsh called out to me. “We’re about halfway home.”
“Are we going to stop?” I yelled through the rain, thankful for the interruption of nonsense in my own imagination.
“No, let’s keep going like Lark wanted.”
“We should take a break at the overlook. We’ll be out of sight from the road
and have a decent tree cover to stay dry.”
My brother agreed.
I pulled Rebel out of formation to let some of the other riders pass. When Paw got near, I waved him closer. “We’re going to break in that field we met in. Do you think the horses will make it that far?”
He bobbed his head as he thought about it. “Yeah, that should be fine. Aren’t we stopping at your house, though?”
“Not if we can help it. Lark wants to head straight for the Nobu if we can.”
“We won’t reach the caves in a single day.”
“We’re not going that far.” I held my cloak hood tight. “The forest is about midway between the game trail and the caves.”
“Are you taking us near the lake out there?”
“You know it?” I shouted.
“Yeah, I know it.” He nodded his head solemnly.
How could he know about the lake yet be completely unaware of the Nobu forest? Perhaps several lakes existed in that region. It’s not like I explored the area. Maybe he didn’t recognize the shrubs or know their value. Wolves don’t need weapons, and living with them, neither did he. Farmers would certainly know them, although an average Citizen may have just passed them by. Paw had little interest in things other than animals, so his lack of agricultural observation wasn’t unrealistic.
The Communicator closed his eyes in a meditative way, and the horses slowed. They led the team off the road and took cover under the trees.
“I guess we’re taking a break.” Lark breathed a heavy sigh.
“Finally. My ass is tired,” Marsh complained.
Rebel stepped under the canopy where the rain seemed less of a nuisance. Judging by the way our compatriots massaged their backsides, we were not the only ones grateful for a reprieve.
“Let’s grab some lunch,” Lark announced.
I climbed off Rebel and rummaged through a side satchel for something to eat. Finding a sandwich and dried fruit, I propped myself up against a tree and ate.
“Yum.” I closed my eyes, enjoying the flavor.
“I take it you’re not going to have any leftovers today, huh?” Marsh plopped down next to me.
With my mouth full, I replied, “Probably not.”
He took a drink from his canteen before starting in on his lunch. Lark and Paw sat down with us, and the others circled up on the other side of the tree where there was another dry patch of ground.
“So, how much farther?” Lark asked.
“We’ve traveled about half the distance,” Paw replied.
Lark’s eyebrows jumped. “You know where we’re going?”
He nodded as he bit off a piece of dried fruit.
“Why didn’t you tell us about the place before?”
“Didn’t know the trees there were anything special.” He shrugged. “Not sure that they’re special enough, now that her horse told me where we’re going.”
Lark stopped chewing and scowled. “What do you know, Paw?”
“There’s a reason nobody goes out there.”
“Calish and I were out there all night. We didn’t run into any trouble.”
Paw nearly choked. “All night? And nothing happened?”
I thought of the swim we took without our clothes, remembering fondly our first kiss. “No,” I answered, sure that my face was telling a different story.
“When did you go there, what season?”
“I think it was early Atchem.”
Marsh nodded. “We made the gate out of the wood in preparation for Talium.”
“That makes sense.” Paw bit into his sandwich.
“Quit the games, Paw!” Lark’s fingers drummed on his knee. “What’s the problem?”
“There are water snakes out there. Lots of them.”
“Oh, yeah.” That brought forth a memory. “Now that you mention it, I did feel something around my leg in the lake.”
Paw spit out his food. “You went swimming?”
“Geez, man!” Marsh moaned, wiping a half-chewed wad of meat and bread off his pants.
“Damn, you are a lucky girl.” Paw took a swig from his canteen. “The snakes don’t play games. They’re hungry little bastards and would bite their own mother if given the chance.”
“I didn’t see any.”
“They bury themselves in the dirt during Toridia. It’s too hot for them, so they go to the center of the lake and burrow into the mud to keep cool as the temperature rises. You must have been there just as it cooled off, otherwise you would have been neck-deep in them.”
“So what you’re saying is that there are water snakes in a forest,” Lark paraphrased. “Fine, we’ll stay out of the lake.” He rolled his eyes.
“These aren’t normal water snakes. They prefer land because they’re carnivorous, as in they eat meat.”
“I know what carnivorous means, asshole.”
Paw raised his voice to compensate for Lark’s disrespect. “The den chooses large prey to feed upon. Unlike wolves, they don’t like it fresh. They like it rotten and bloated, full of stinking gasses. They’ll kill us all and watch us decompose like a child watching a cake bake. Where do you think the term ‘death garden’ comes from?”
I thought the lore spoke of demons feeding on your soul before transferring to the afterlife. “That’s real?” My eyes widened.
He continued, “Hytalia is their breeding season. This is when their numbers are greatest. We would be better off waiting until the heat returns to get your plants.”
“We can’t wait that long.” Lark shoved the rest of his sandwich in his pocket.
Marsh scratched his back against the tree behind him. “Can’t you talk to them? Do that thing you do?”
“You want me to negotiate,” he laughed so hard the horses stirred, “with snakes?”
“Is that not a possibility?” Lark asked, desperate to find a solution.
“Snakes are the worst kind of animal. If they don’t find something to eat, then they turn on each other. I wasn’t kidding about the eating-your-mother comment. Even if we offered them our horses in exchange for safe passage, they’d never let us out alive. Death garden, remember?”
Losing my appetite, I passed Marsh the rest of my sandwich. “You’ve made your point; it’s stupid to go in there. So do we go back to camp, or do you have an idea for us to harvest the wood?”
“I have a couple of ideas. One is coming back during Toridia, when they’re dormant. That would be the wisest and most predictable option,” Paw offered.
“Our people could benefit from this stuff. I’d like to see if we might try something else.” Lark sighed.
“Wait.” I perked up. “What if we light torches and go in protected by fire? If they hate heat so much, that should keep them away. A couple of us can harvest while the rest of us stand guard.”
“That would take forever,” Marsh protested.
“And it’s raining,” Paw reminded us. “They are incredibly fast, more so in water. If that forest has any flooding, we may not even see them coming.”
“What’s your other idea?” I asked.
“We find some river cats and bring them up here to hunt. They’re the only natural predator of the water snakes.”
“Let’s explore that,” Lark said slowly.
“I’d have to go down to the bank to recruit them. If we got a dozen or so, it may work. Although, we would probably lose a few before the day was over,” he said somberly. “I don’t like asking them to trade their lives for toothpicks.”
“It’s not for—” Lark hesitated, not wanting to insult the only person capable of getting the job done. “How likely is it that you’ll get enough cats to keep the snakes away from us?”
“We’ll see how many are interested. I know you’re willing to risk their lives, but are you willing to risk our horses? Our men?”
“This wood would give us an advantage over our enemies. If it’s this hard to get to, then it makes it even more important to our people. War is coming. By losing a few peop
le now, we save hundreds, possibly thousands, in the future.”
War?
“What about you?” Paw asked. “Are these branches worth your life?”
Lark straightened his posture. “I am the Resistance. Are you?”
They locked eyes as if the rest of us weren’t sitting right next to them. Marsh glanced at me, and I shrugged subtly. Nik told us we returned successful. What did that mean?
“I’ll invite the cats and send them up the game trail on the bluff. I’ll come back up the road and meet you in the morning.” Paw took his last bite, brushing his hands on his pants while standing. “Don’t ever challenge my allegiance. I’ve proven where my loyalties are.”
“I’ll go with you.” I hopped up, wanting to find Calish. Someone in the valley had to have seen him.
“Not a chance, Una.” Lark shook his head. “You two are the only ones who know where this place is. One of you has to stay here, and last I checked, you’re only good with wolves.”
Marsh picked up his bow. “Then I’ll go with him.”
Paw accepted his offer. “We should go now. If all goes well, we should be back with the team by sunrise.”
“That’s going to make for a long couple of days for you two,” I warned my brother.
“And exactly what naps are for,” he replied.
“Are we leaving?” Trisk asked from the other side of the tree, noticing that half of our circle readied themselves for departure.
“No,” Lark said. “They’re going to go get reinforcements from the river.”
“Marsh.” I hurried to his side.
“Don’t worry, little sister. I’ll ask around about Cal.”
“You read my mind.” I hugged him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
After I left him, I caught Trisk casually making her way to my brother. She waited until he cinched his saddlebags tight to let him know she was there. He turned, greeting her with a gentle touch in exchange for her attention. I stood behind the tree, just out of sight, and watched them say their goodbyes. Marsh glanced over his shoulder before bending down to accept her kiss on his cheek. He said something, and she playfully slugged him in the arm. He brushed her lips with his thumb, unable to wipe away the smile he caused her to reveal. Trisk stepped in closer, lifted her chin, and parted her waiting lips. Marsh met her halfway but paused.
Season of Hytalia Page 24
