is safe, I promise you.”
I hear the low hoot of an owl outside. The forest sounds quiet and peaceful—safe—like Nerang said. “How do you protect yourselves from them? Why do you allow your children to wander by themselves? Aren’t you afraid for their safety?”
He laughs. “There’s much for you to learn about Koolkuna, young one, but now is not the time. You need to rest, your body is still healing. And I’m an old man, I need my sleep.”
“You don’t seem old.”
“And you don’t seem like you have no sight,” he says gently. “Things are not always as they seem. Sleep now. Your questions will be answered.”
I climb back into bed. “Peree’s really all right?”
“Yes. Sleep.” His tone is soothing, but I hear something in his voice, a hesitation. That pause keeps me awake long after I hear his breathing slow again, and after the owl tucks its beak into its wing and sleeps.
I’m still awake, worrying about Peree and wondering about Koolkuna, as the moonlight gives way to the first timid rays of the sun.
Chapter Eleven
Laughter drifts through the window on the breeze, waking me. It’s been morning for some time, judging from the light. The little room is cooler and more pleasant than I would have thought possible in the middle of summer.
I sit up and adjust my sleep-twisted dress around me. I didn’t notice what I was wearing the night before, but the dress smells clean and feels unfamiliar. Someone must have changed my clothes. I stand and grope my way around the shelter, memorizing it. It doesn’t take long. Two beds, a wash stand with a clay pitcher and basin, and a set of rough shelves with an assortment of clay pots and small leather pouches. I pick up a palm-sized wooden container and smell the contents. Sage, good for seasoning meat. Who knows what Nerang uses it for? The water in the pitcher smells and tastes clean, so I drink. I pour some in the basin, and wash my face.
I pause at the closed door, my hand resting on the wood, trying to slow my heart. There are people out there who are probably very unhappy that I wandered into their village. Imagining again how my community would react to a stranger, I almost go back to bed. But I think of Peree, and step outside.
A hammer beats a staccato rhythm somewhere down below, and the smoke from a cooking fire reminds me I’m starving. Women chatter, their voices drifting through the trees. They sound like they’re working. I wish I could tell what they’re saying.
“Fennel!” a familiar voice yelps.
“Kora?”
“I’ve been waiting for you! Every day I asked Nerang if you were awake, and every day he said you were still sleeping. Then this morning he finally said I could visit you! I’ve been waiting for you to come out since breakfast.” She takes my hand. “You look like you smeared berries all over your face, but you don’t look as much like a runa anymore.”
I laugh. “Good . . . I think. How long have I been here?”
Kora considers. “Three sleeps, maybe?” Three days! Fear for Peree washes over me again. “Will you skip with me now?”
“I think I should take things slow. Walk with me instead?”
“Okay. Where do you want to go?”
“To Nerang. Do you know where he is?”
“I think he’s with your friend.”
“Take me to him?”
“Sure, let’s use the ropes.” She tugs me forward and I tense, expecting the movement to hurt my ribs, but it doesn’t.
“The ropes?” I ask.
“To get down.”
I don’t know “the ropes,” but I’m relieved we’re going down. I’m not at all comfortable up here. I stiffen every time a branch creaks or the trees sway. Kora still holds my hand, but I feel around for something else to hold onto. Another tree branch sits waist-high above the walkway, forming a barrier. I run my other hand along it gratefully. We pass a shelter, and I hear a woman singing inside.
“Does your family live in the trees, or on the ground?” I ask Kora.
“The ground,” she says, as if that should be obvious. “My brother Darel’s only four, he isn’t old enough to live in the trees yet. It’s not safe for the little ones—they can fall.”
Her tone makes it clear she doesn’t consider herself part of any group that could do something so careless. I smile to myself, but wonder how dangerous the possibility of a fall is, compared to the constant threat of the Scourge.
“How old