The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,22

is only a little outpost. No one comes down here, except to access the water hole when the flesh-eaters aren’t around. Hey, are you thirsty?” He changes the subject quickly, like he doesn’t want to leave an opening for me to ask more questions about their community.

Guilt trickles through me, thinking of all the water I lapped up earlier. “I’m okay. You?”

“It’s manageable. We’ve learned to conserve our water rations when the fleshies are here.”

I wonder if that means the Three have punished the Lofties before by withholding their water. I’d never heard that. Then again, when the Scourge came before, I was doing lessons or playing with the other children in the caves, not following every decision of the Council. A cooling wind blows through the branches, lifting the ends of my sweat-and-dirt-matted hair. I face the breeze and breathe deeply, preparing to ask him the questions that I’ve been asking myself all day: “Peree, why did you shoot Jackal? Couldn’t you have put the fire out and let him go back to the caves? Did you have to kill him?”

“Yes, I did have to kill him,” he says, his voice hard.

“Why? Because it was your duty?”

“He started it, remember? But no, not because it was my duty. He was being consumed.”

“By the fire?”

“By the Scourge.”

“What? No one said Jackal was in danger from the flesh-eaters. I heard he set the fire and you shot him as punishment,” I say.

“Shrike told your Council exactly what happened.”

“Which of the Three did he tell?”

“The one named for a snake.”

“Adder. That’s not the story he told us.”

“And yet it’s the truth,” Peree says. “Believe me, Fenn, I didn’t want to kill the man, but I couldn’t let the Scourge take him any more than I could let them take you. Shooting him was the only humane thing I could do.”

I’m torn. Everything I’ve been raised to believe urges me not to believe a Lofty. But I want to believe him. Peree’s version of what happened is exactly how I would expect him to act. Look what he did for me. And why am I unsurprised to hear Adder might have lied, especially if the lie placed the Lofties in an even worse light in the eyes of the community? If I told them Peree’s side of the story, it would be his word against Adder’s. No one would even consider taking the word of a Lofty over the word of one of the Three. Except me.

“I believe you,” I whisper.

“Thank you.”

I listen to the moans of the creatures below. There are less of them now. They’ve dispersed since Peree pulled me up, like they have no interest in us as long as we’re in the trees. Lucky Lofties. I push away the burst of resentment I feel, reminding myself that a Lofty probably saved my life. I owe him. Again.

“I don’t think I would’ve survived down there.”

His laugh is sharp. “We may not survive up here if anyone finds out I let you come up.”

“You said no one could see us!”

“It’s not likely, but still possible.”

I frown. “I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“I invited you up, remember? I put myself in this position.”

“And the Three put us both here.” My resentment flares again. “What happens if your Council finds out?”

“Oh, I’d be punished.”

“What would they do?”

“Probably give me the same punishment as you,” he says. I chuckle, assuming he’s joking. “It happened to my mother.”

My grin disappears. Sending someone without protection to spend the night among the flesh-eaters isn’t a punishment in our community, it’s a death sentence. Permanent banishment—severing a person’s ties to their life and setting them adrift in the forest with the Scourge—is reserved for only truly serious infractions, like intentionally taking a life. What did Peree’s mother do?

“Is that how she died?” I ask.

“Believe it or not, she survived.”

“How?”

“It’s a long story. Sure you wouldn’t rather get some sleep?”

I’m worn out, but I’ve only heard a few stories of sighted people who survive the Scourge, and most were from before I was born. None were about Lofties. Hazily, I realize I almost didn't survive this time. Could the Three possibly have known my protection would fail when I fell asleep? Did Aloe know? She wouldn’t have allowed my punishment then, would she? I rest my head against the gnarled tree bark, too tired to contemplate all the possibilities.

“I’d like to hear it,” I say.

Peree’s voice drifts across the narrow, dark space between us. “From what I’ve