Morrighan - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,1
another and he came up with only worthless pieces of stems.
“You’re impatient.”
He spun, drawing his knife.
Even at the tender age of ten, I knew I was taking a risk exposing myself. I wasn’t even sure why I did it, especially once I saw his eyes. Feral and hungry, there was no recognition.
“Take your boots off,” I said. “I’ll show you.”
He stabbed at the air as I took a step closer, but I sat down and removed my own calfskin slippers, never taking my eyes off him, thinking I might need to run after all.
As his fear receded, so did his wild, glassy gaze, and recognition finally spread across his face. I had changed more than he had in two years. He lowered his knife.
“You’re the girl between the boulders.”
I nodded and pointed to his boots. “Take those off. You’ll have to wade in if you want to get some corms.”
He pulled off his boots and followed me out, knee-deep into the pond, the rushes springing up between us. I told him to feel with his toes, to work them into the mud to loosen the fat, fleshy tuber before pulling. Our toes had to do as much of the work as our hands. There were few words between us. What was there for a scavenger and a child of the Remnant to say to each other? All we had in common was hunger. But he seemed to understand I was paying him back for his act of mercy two years ago.
By the time we parted, he had a sack full of the fleshy roots.
“This is my pond now,” he said sharply as he tied the sack to his saddle. “Don’t come here again.” He spat on the ground to emphasize his point.
I knew what he was really saying. The others would come here now, too. It wouldn’t be safe.
“What’s your name?” I asked as he mounted his horse.
“You are nothing!” he answered, as if he’d heard a different question from my lips. He settled into his saddle, then reluctantly looked my way again. “Jafir de Aldrid,” he answered.
“And I am—”
“I know who you are. You’re Morrighan.” He galloped off.
It was another four years before I saw him again, and the whole of that time, I wondered how he knew my name.
Chapter Two
Morrighan
It seemed being afraid was in my blood. It kept me ever aware, but even at ten years old, I was weary of it. I remember I returned to camp warily that day. From an early age, I had known we were different. It was what helped us to survive. But it also meant little passed by the others, even the hidden and unsaid. Ama, Rhiann, Carys, Oni, and Nedra were strongest in the knowing. And Venda too, but she was gone now. We didn’t talk of her.
Ama spoke without lifting her gaze from her basket of beans, her gray and black hair pulled back neatly in a braid. “Pata tells me you left the camp while I was gone.”
“Only to the pond beyond the rock wall, Ama. I didn’t go far.”
“Far enough. It only takes a moment for a scavenger to snatch you up.”
We’d had this conversation many times. The scavengers were wild and reckless, thieves and savages preying on the work of others. And sometimes they were killers too, depending on their whim. We hid in the hills and ruins, quiet in our footsteps, soft in voice, the walls of an empty world giving us cover, and where the walls were only dust, the tall grasses hid us.
But sometimes even that was not enough.
“I was careful,” I whispered.
“What called you to the pond?” she asked.
I was empty-handed—nothing to show as a reason for my trek. As soon as Jafir had galloped off, I had left. I could not lie to Ama. There were as many questions in her pauses as in her words. She knew.
“I saw a scavenger boy there. He was tearing at the cattails.”
Her eyes darted up. “You didn’t—”
“He was a boy named Jafir.”
“You know his name? You spoke to him?” Ama jumped to her feet, scattering the beans in her lap. She grabbed my shoulders first, then brushed my hair back, examining my face. Her hands traveled frantically up and down my arms, searching for injuries. “Are you all right? Did he harm you? Did he touch you?” Her eyes were sharp with fear.
“Ama, he didn’t harm me,” I said firmly, trying to dispel her fears. “He only told me not to come to