by Lan Chan
My landing is clumsy and shakes the entire canopy. I’m frozen on the spot, hoping like hell the noise hasn’t roused the sabrewolves’ suspicions. The others are wide-eyed but equally silent, and if it weren’t such a dire situation, I would be laughing at the absurdity of it all. Instead, we hold on and wait for the branches to stop moving and hope our luck doesn’t run out any more than it already has.
“Nice going, Wind Dancer,” Gage says when the sabrewolves don’t stir. His tone is dripping sarcasm, but oddly enough, it lacks its usual bite. I feel like pushing him off his branch regardless, but instead, I press my fingers down hard on his shoulder. He winces but throws me a constipated-looking smirk.
“Is anyone hurt?” I ask.
They shake their heads. I fill them in on the sketchy plan Micah and I have cooked up, and for lack of a better idea, it’s agreed that we’ll try to blow up the sabrewolves.
“How good a shot are you?” I ask Gage.
“Good enough,” he says, handing me a couple of his arrows for Micah to rig with explosives. I consider offering to do the shooting myself, but I don’t think it will go down very well.
Back in our tree, Micah puts his finishing touches on the explosive. When he attaches it to the arrow, its centre of balance is completely thrown out. I really hope Gage’s aim is a lot better than just good enough.
“Good luck,” Micah says, unshed tears brimming. We’ve agreed I can’t be jumping backwards and forwards between trees because the sabre sentry is starting to pace back and forth like he’s sniffed something off.
“You too,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Don’t look back, understand? Just keep running no matter what.”
“Take your time,” I say to Gage when I’ve made the leap to his tree safely.
One of his golden eyes is twitching badly as he tries to aim. The added weight of the explosive would be negligible in normal circumstances but is clearly much heavier than he has anticipated. On top of that, we’re all watching him intently, our expectations burdening his shoulders.
Suddenly his face relaxes. I take in a breath and tense my muscles, ready to jump. Gage punches in the activation code on the explosive, which gives us thirty seconds before it detonates. His arm pulls back as far as it will go and then the arrow is flying. Twenty seconds. The shaft veers distinctly to the right, but it’s as true as we can hope for. Ten seconds.
“Go!” My voice is disjointed and I feel as if I’m hearing it through a glass wall. But it serves its purpose because the entire forest seems to come to life at my command. The sabrewolves awaken and rear as my companions and I scramble down the trees.
I’ve always considered being small an advantage, but today it means I use twice as much energy to clear the area. Twice as many steps to keep ahead of the aftershock.
When the eruption of the explosion engulfs me and I feel the tendrils of heat press all around, there’s one thing I realise I hadn’t counted on. I’ve been so busy calculating all the possible ways things could go wrong up until this point it hasn’t crossed my mind that I won’t make it. Until something blunt ricochets off the side of my head and everything around me goes dark.
Fourteen
They say when you’re about to die your life flashes before your eyes. Everything happens in slow motion and even those things that once caused you pain are nothing but quiet moments. That’s how I know I’m not dead. Because if I’m dead, I couldn’t possibly be in as much pain as I’m in now. My right pointer finger is bent out of shape and throbs mercilessly. Red and black spots dance across the slits in my vision, and it’s as if someone has reached inside my skull and is squeezing my brain for all its worth.
I’ve been thrown over someone’s shoulder. It takes me a long time to determine it seems to be Gage’s. I can hear other pairs of feet walking, but I can’t separate them into people because I feel like throwing up.
My head throbs and I groan.
“She’s awake!” Micah says.
Gage lowers me gently. It’s all I can do to simply sit there and keep from hurling. Sully’s wet nose is all over my face until someone pulls her away. Miraculously, the rest of the group has survived. Though not without their own scrapes and bruises. Cora sports a nasty cut on her cheek that’s crusted over with dried blood, and Leura’s beautiful face seems to have turned a greenish tinge.
The others decide to rest temporarily for my sake. The forest around us is unusually sparse, the trees stunted and unhealthy, like big sticks of charcoal rather than live bark. There’s no canopy to shelter under and the leaf fall at our feet is crumbled. I guess a forest fire occurred here months ago, going by the new shoots pushing themselves out of the ground.
“I need to set the bone in your finger,” Leura says grimly as she inspects me for other injuries. I was expecting that, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to bargain for lesser pain.
“Can’t we just splint it and hope it’ll set itself?”
Leura just pats my hand reassuringly. The gesture reminds me so much of Kadee that I’m homesick.
“Do you want something to bite into?” Leura asks.
“No,” I say, turning away so I won’t have to see. “Just expect a lot of swearing.” This makes her laugh.
“You’ve just faced down a pack of sabrewolves. This shouldn’t be so—” She jerks my finger mid-sentence and I spasm, then let fly with a string of the harshest cursing I know.
“Are you all right?” Leura asks. She’s already bandaging up my finger so I can’t move it too much. My hand hurts like crazy.
“Yes,” I say. It’s a squeak compared to my explosive swearing, but an improvement nonetheless.
“Glad to see you’re still in form,” Gage says. He crouches down next to me and drops what looks like a spiny green ball at my feet. “What do you think? Edible or not?”
“Gage,” Leura says. “Give her some time.”
“We don’t have time,” he says, but he backs away a little.
I nudge the matte green ball with my boot. It looks very much like a chestnut, which stirs up an unpleasant memory. “I take it there’s nothing left, then?” He nods in confirmation. It’s not that I’d been expecting anything to survive the explosion, but knowing for sure there is nothing left is disheartening. At least we had one good meal before the sabrewolves attacked.
“Where did you get this?” I say, picking up the fruit.
“One of the trees near the edge of this plane.” He gestures back towards the way we came. The spines are malleable and almost feathery to the touch. That’s not a good sign. It makes me think there’s another way the plant is defending itself.
“Break the skin,” I say. “But don’t let any juice touch you.”
He sets the fruit on the ground and gently nicks the skin. Clear liquid the colour and consistency of honey trickles out, and the smell immediately warns me away.
“Just like caramel,” he says.
His face lights up and it’s hard not to feel bad when I say, “It’s heartburn fruit.”
He balks. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” It’s one of the hundreds of poisonous plants catalogued in my mother’s books. Harmless enough inside the mucousy confines of its shell, but once exposed to air, the juice becomes corrosive. Already, the stained blade has blackened and I’m willing to bet if I exert pressure, it’ll snap. I kick the blade and fruit aside and he helps me to where the others are now gathered around a bonfire.
At first I think they’re just warming their hands, until we’re close enough for me to see that some of their arms are bloodied up to the elbow, and I realise they’re laying strips of meat on the fire.
“Tell me that’s not sabrewolf meat,” I say.
He shrugs. “It’s perfectly good.”
The scent of raw flesh wafts over. My nausea returns. Gage ushers me away from the gruesome scene. I’ve shot and killed animals before, but they’ve mostly been clean single shots. There was always blood, but never this kind of departure from their natural st
ate. As Merchants, our meat came pre-packaged and neatly presented from the butcher. Judging by the way Cora and Leura don’t bat an eyelid as they handle the sabre carcass, the Farmers aren’t strangers to salvaging meat where they can. Micah and Sully hover at the edge of the fire, curious at the proceedings, but not really offering any assistance.
I don’t know what I was thinking running into the forest on my own. Truthfully, I’d hoped to be able to get by on the plants I could forage. Now I can see how misguided I was.
Gage passes me a water bladder and I rinse out my mouth. We sit in silence for a while, and I try my best not to cry because the sabrewolves can’t help what they are any more than Sully, and now they’re dead. Because of me. Because of us.
What logic I still maintain tells me we have no choice. With our previsions destroyed, the sabrewolf meat could be the difference between life and death. Yet knowing this doesn’t take the edge off my guilt at all, and for the first time, I start to doubt my capacity to survive this forest.
Every now and then, Cora will stop what she’s doing and glance over at us, her lips set in a thin line. Gage pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes a heavy sigh. Clearly he’s not oblivious to her affections. It’s a bit odd to think of strong, solid Cora being in love with anyone, let alone Gage, who although gorgeous, I have considered a raging lunatic for a long time.
“I’ve got to get away from that for a while,” I say.
Leura looks up. She’s up to her elbows in blood and not even flinching. It hits me how much I like her, and then I’m sad it has taken the downfall of the Landing for me to realise that maybe I could have had some friends besides Micah.
“Go with her, Gage,” Leura says.
“I’d rather not have company,” I say. What I mean is I’d rather not have to be alone with him. I sense the feeling is mutual and he seems stuck in some kind of holding pattern, but then Leura gives him a pointed nod and he shrugs.
“Let’s go,” he says.
I pretend I don’t see the daggers Cora is throwing in my direction or the brutal way she’s hacking into the dead sabrewolf. Why am I the one she’s angry with? It was Leura who insisted on Gage coming. I guess it’s just easier sometimes to blame someone you don’t like than it is to face the reality with people you do care about.
That just brings me to the silent feud that’s been raging between Gage and me since the night my mother died. It’s the night his father died too. I’ll bet Gage wishes it were me. I know I’d wish him dead instead of my mother if it were the other way around.
He’s taken the lead and heads back into the lush forest and away from the barren, charred clearing.
Suddenly he turns. “Where to?”
“I was hoping to go up,” I say.
He inspects the canopy with a critical eye. “Not a chance,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, Wind Dancer, I’d think you were trying to get me killed.”
“Stop calling me that.” I step past him and go deeper into the bush.
“It’s your name, isn’t it?” The ridicule is back in his eyes.
“I have a few names for you too,” I say. This is more like it. This is the conversation I’m used to having with him. Any minute now he’ll throw something at me. I feel his rising anger through the heavy thud of his boots. Rather than dampen the sound, it’s as though the noise ricochets off the trees and throws it back at us. I could swear I hear boots everywhere.
For as long as I can remember I’ve equated anger with Gage, and for the most part I understand it comes from the same place mine does. Except the more time I spend with him, the more volatile the rage seems.
“Keep it down!” I hiss.
“Or what?” He stomps louder. “What are you going to do? Tell your Seeder friends on me? What was the name of that ass-kisser who used to follow you around like a shadow? Ashley, Alex something. Fat lot of good he was in the end.”
He knows very well what Aiden’s name is, and I know very well he’s trying to upset me. I whirl on him and he stops short of colliding with me.
“What do you want me to say?” I snap. “I’ve said I’m sorry. Heaps of times. I’m sorry your dad is dead. I’m sorry your life must have been terrible, but I’m not sorry I’m alive, even though I know you must be.”
“I don’t need your apologies,” he says. His voice is ice and he barely opens his mouth to speak. “I want you to feel what it’s like not to be handed everything and treated like you’re better than the rest of us.”
I’m bewildered. “Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the baker’s wife practically throw armfuls of bread at you just for smiling at her.” I make a kissing face at him
“Don’t you dare judge me. After my dad was killed, my mum could barely wake up in the morning. If I didn’t smile and pretend, we’d have starved to death.”
“Then I guess to survive we’ve both done things we’re not proud of.”
He laughs at this. It’s a derisive laugh bordering on cruel. “Really? Your mum conspired against the Seeders and all that happened is they scarred you. Big deal. My dad was murdered just for trying to help you. And look at you now, still living in the big house without needing to lift a finger. Any minute now the Seeders will send a chopper for their precious Wind Dancer and you’ll be set.”
“Is that what you want, Gage? Special treatment from the Seeders?”
He must notice the disgust I’m barely trying to hide because he slams his fist into the nearest tree. I see now where our anger diverges. I have my mission to obtain seeds and produce viable plants. I have an avenue to pour my rage. He has no outlet for his anger that won’t get him killed immediately.
“I don’t want anything from the Seeders except their extermination,” he says.
I’m taken aback by the vehemence in his stance. That’s when I finally get it. He hates me because he thinks I chose or even begged to be the Wind Dancer. He thinks I’m not dead because, unlike his father, I somehow ingratiated myself to the Seeders.
“Do you want to see how well the Seeders treat their pets?” I say. I don’t give him a chance to answer. I just turn my back to him, and without ceremony, I remove my jacket and then my top. I should be self-conscious undressing in front of him, but I’ve been prodded so often by costume designers and stagehands that it barely registers anymore.
I hear him gasp when all I’ve got left up top is my bra. I know too well what my back must look like when seen for the first time. Even Felicity was shocked enough the first time she saw the welts of broken skin that she didn’t hound me for a week. If I close my eyes, I can almost hear the snap of the whips as they cut through my flesh. All because I was too tired or scared to keep practicing the jumps and twirls. I dread to think what would have happened if I had ever fallen during a show.
“So,” I say, putting my clothes back on because suddenly I’m chilled to the bone. “I’m sorry your dad died, but my life hasn’t exactly been sunshine and candy either.”
He opens his mouth, but in the distance, a scream filters through the undergrowth. “What was that?” I arch my ear up, but there’s nothing. My hearing must still be off. I feel the vibration of the next shriek before I hear the call of the blood fury. It’s coming from the direction of the camp.
Fifteen
We take off running back the way we came. I outrun Gage almost right away, though I can still hear his footsteps pounding behind me. Branches and thorns scrape against the exposed skin on my face and hands, but in my haste, I barely register their touch.
I think I hear Gage calling my name, but the image of the Reaper tearing out the Seeder’s heart plays over and over in my mind. My vision tunnels and I can’t concentrate on anything else.
Suddenly, a figure dressed in all black appears in front of me. There’s not enough time to slow down or change direction, and I slam elbow first directly into the Reaper’s chest. The Reaper’s arms come up in a cross stance to cushion the impact, but I have velocity on my side and manage to knock him of
f his feet. We both go sprawling into a thicket of briars. A dozen barbed thorns bite into my skin and I cry out in pain.
Whatever material his black suit is made of seems to make him impervious to the thorns. He brings an arm up in an arc from where he’s lying on his back, and I think he’s about to grab hold of me, when an arrow stabs him through the thigh. His body coils into the foetal position and he cradles his injury but doesn’t make a sound. Gage grabs me from behind and with very little care rips me from the thicket. Later, I’ll pay the price for such rough treatment, but in this moment I continue to run.
We clear the edge of the true forest just as a blood fury swoops overhead, its enormous shadow blocking out a good chunk of sun. Its twin flies higher in the atmosphere, crying out as though it were being dragged through a coal pit.
Micah, Cora and Leura stand around the cooking pit. Their heads crane to the sky and Leura points at something in the distance. Her dark brown hair and the sleeves of her shirt whip furiously in every direction, as though she’s standing beneath the propellers of a helicopter.
Sully lets out a series of warning barks, but the others seem transfixed by whatever creature is causing the rampant wind. Suddenly, Sully yelps as though she’s been struck, and she begins to whine and run in a circle. It’s as though she hears something the rest of us can’t.
It happens just as it did the night the Seeder discovered my bomb shelter. The blood furies scream and then suddenly half a dozen black-clad figures just materialise in the sky. They fall to earth in graceful descents, landing in a circle around the group.
“Micah!” I shout. “Get away from there.” A heavy weight settles on my chest so that every word is torturous. The appearance of the Reapers breaks whatever awed spell the others are under, and suddenly the clearing erupts into chaos.
It’s contained chaos, though, because they don’t have a chance against all these Reapers. Cora gets in a few kicks and punches before a pair of Reapers gang up on her. One gets her in a deadly vise grip from behind while the other pries the machete from her fingers. Beside me, Gage stops running and notches his bows. An arrow whistles through the air above my head. It lands directly in the fire. The second grazes the arm of a Reaper who has Leura by the collar of her shirt and is keeping her from pouncing on him.
