The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,44

of you?”

“For generations we’ve given up more babies in the Exchange than we’ve received. Dark coloring seems to be more common than light. It’s ironic—our ancestors drove yours out of the trees and created the Exchange to protect our resources. Now we’re dying out, thanks to their narrow minds and our own fear and pride.”

“Does anyone else know about this? Aloe? The Three?”

“No,” Peree says. “It’s forbidden to speak to Groundlings about, but I don’t think they’ll get here in time to punish me.”

I can’t stand it. “Don’t say that, you’re not–”

He stops my lips with his fingers. “I want to tell truths now. Something has to change, and soon. My people are afraid, but we’ll have to strike some kind of bargain with your people, or we won’t survive. Do something for me, when you go back—tell Aloe what I told you. Persuade your Council to help.”

“Come back with me and tell them yourself,” I plead.

“Does your Sightlessness give you the power to cheat death?”

I shake my head, frustration and helplessness strangling me. “Only to walk among it.”

We lie in silence then. Numb with grief, I listen to his slow breathing. For a moment I consider giving up, staying here with Peree next to the Hidden Waters. But voices drift to me through the caves like the whispers of ghosts. The voices of my people, beseeching me to return with some hopeful news. And I have the Lofties to consider now, slowly dying out in the trees over our heads.

Can I do this? Can I go back and shake the foundation of what my people believe: that the Lofties keep us subservient? Would it change anything? I don’t know, but I have to find out. I make up my mind. I’ll stay with him as long as I can. Then I’ll go back.

I try to stay awake, but I’m depleted, body and spirit. I doze off, and I’m the girl from the story, my back to the edge of the water, my hair lashing around me in the gusting wind. I hand Peree the last arrow I’ve made, knowing the men are coming for us. I tell him I’ll go back with them. No, we stay together, he reminds me.

And suddenly I know what I have to do.

I try to wake Peree, to tell him my plan, but he doesn’t stir. So I stuff what I can into an empty water sack: food, the diminished medicine pouch, the scrap of fabric and the rabbit’s foot Bear gave me, Peree’s knife, and the little wooden bird. I secure the sack to my body. I don’t think about what might happen, or I won’t have the courage to do this.

I wrap my arms around Peree, and whisper in his ear. Then I roll us over the edge into the river.

Chapter Ten

The water is unbelievably cold. It takes my breath away.

I hold Peree under the arms, feet downstream. He flails as we sweep through the cave. I try to come up for air, but my head meets solid rock, my face still underwater. Panic smothers me—I fight it.

The water throws us into the rock walls. Peree slumps in my arms. We hit an outcropping and pain explodes through my side.

Sliding downwards. The water levels out, dragging us. My ribs are in agony, my lungs exploding. I clear the surface and gasp for breath.

My forehead slams into a rock and water dashes down my throat. I gasp and choke; I’m drowning.

Suddenly, light bursts around us. We plunge into a roaring, plummeting wall of water. Peree’s head ricochets against my brow. Stunned, I cling to him like a raft.

And as swiftly as it began, the terrifying ride is over. Calmer water surrounds us. Warm water. I try to hold Peree’s face above the surface, but his weight pushes me under. My hand brushes against something slimy, slender, and plant-like. I seize it. It's attached to solid ground. I pull myself, and Peree’s body, as far up as I can and collapse. Darkness overtakes me.

I wake to the faint sound of birdsong and the rusty taste of blood in my mouth. The water careening down nearby masks any other noise. It’s bright, too bright even for me, after so many days in the dark caves. Hazily, I realize we must be outside. I say a quick thanks.

I stretch my arms and legs. Pain greets every small movement. My forehead throbs and it hurts to breathe—the ribs on my left side crackle like a handful of