The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,34

we make camp?” I ask. “This is almost as far as I’ve explored. We’ll have to decide which direction to go from here.”

“Better to decide after we’ve slept,” he agrees. “I’ll make a fire.”

I dump my pack and rub my stiff, aching shoulders with my stiff, aching hands, still brooding about what he said. Why did he touch me that morning in the trees, when he has a partner all picked out? Maybe I completely misinterpreted his touch. Maybe he was just being friendly. I think about his warm hands covering mine, and heat spreads over my body like a liquid blanket. I yank one of the oilskin sacks of water out of my pack, much smaller than the ones I fill at the water hole. It’s almost empty.

We share a meal of bread, berries, and a little cured possum meat in front of a welcome fire. It’s not much food. My stomach still grumbles as we clean up. Peree’s hunger must be even worse, but neither of us bothers to complain. I hear him searching through his pack, and a minute later, there’s a sharp scraping sound.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Carving.”

“Carving what?”

He hands me a smooth piece of wood, about the size of a greenheart seed pod. I touch it, and feel the contours of a perfectly shaped little bird, from its beak and wings right down to tiny wooden feet.

“That’s amazing. How did you learn?” I ask.

“My grandfather, Shrike’s father. He was a woodworker, like Petrel. If you like it, you can have it when it’s finished.” I thank him, and hand the bird back. The scraping continues. “Grandfather wouldn’t have liked it here, in the caves. He always said the trees are our caretakers. They provide our shelter, our safety, our food, our amusement. It’s so strange to be away from them. And I’ve never slept with more than a wooden roof over my head, much less solid rock.”

“What are your homes like?” I ask. As far as I know, no Groundling has ever had more than a glimpse. The platform we spent the night on in the trees was a glorified walkway, according to Peree.

“They’re made of wood, like yours, but they’re circular, and built around the trunks of the trees. The ones on the perimeter are pretty basic, only good for one person. That’s where I stay when I’m on lookout. Others are large enough for extended families.”

“How many families are there?”

“I don’t know, I haven't counted them,” he says, his voice guarded again. What does he think, that I’m gathering intelligence about the Lofties? Maybe he does. “You haven’t told me much about your friends,” he says. “What are they like?”

I tell him about Eland, Calli, and, after a moment’s pause, Bear.

“Is he the one from the passageway, the one you’re intended to?” he asks casually.

“We’re just friends,” I mutter.

“Looked to me like he wants to be more than that.”

“Maybe so, but we’re not intended, and I don’t . . . intend . . . to be intended.” My face is burning. “It’s hard to even think about partnering, or having a family, with the Scourge around.”

I sit and listen to the fire as he works. Then I pull out my bedroll, and wince. My fingers are chafed from running them along the wall all day.

“Let me see your hands.” He takes my fingers in his. “I have a salve that might help. Frond, our healer, mixed it up for me before I left.” He rummages around in his pack again, then spreads a thick paste on my fingers. It’s cool, and has a pleasant tingly effect on my skin. He wraps cloths around each of my hands and ties them off. I sigh.

“Better?” he says.

“Much, thank you.”

I lie back on my bedroll as the fire begins to sputter and die. Peree lies back too. The feeling of utter nothingness surrounding our little camp is oppressive.

“Fennel,” he whispers after a few minutes. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“What will your Council do if we find the Hidden Waters?”

I hesitate before answering. We played a game as children called Snake in the Grass. Two teams try to steal a small sack of water from each other, while defending their own water at the same time. What makes it interesting is that before the game starts, one person from each side is secretly chosen to be the Snake, who waits for the chance to sneak away with their own side’s water and win for the other side. We