The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,53

flames are the loudest sound in the room.

“I’d like to tell you the story of the anuna,” a man says from the other side of the fire. His voice brings to mind an ancient tree, stooped and covered in folds of wrinkled bark and wispy leaves, but still holding its branches proudly.

Kadee says, “This is Wirrim, our Memory Keeper. He remembers and passes on the stories of the people.”

When Wirrim speaks again, his voice has changed. It has a clear, ringing authority to it, like Willow’s voice did, like the voices of all gifted storytellers. “Before the time of the sick ones, our people lived far apart from each other. Few spoke the first language, our native tongue, anymore. Most spoke the second language—your language. We gathered from time to time to celebrate, and to pass the stories of the anuna to the young ones. It was during one of these celebrations that we received the news that the runa, the sick ones, were coming. The world fell into chaos—homes burning, families torn apart—and everywhere, the sick ones roamed. Death surrounded us. We lost many. The anuna were frightened, but together we found our way here, to our ancestral home of Koolkuna.

“Here we have lived for generations. We renewed our use of the first language, as a bond between our people, while keeping our knowledge of the second language. We live in peace and safety, taking care of each other with sustenance from the forest and the Myuna—our water hole. Through the years, lorinyas have come to Koolkuna. Some stay, grateful to have found a place of safety. Others leave again, haunted by memories of lost loved ones. Now you have come to Koolkuna, and we ask ourselves: will she stay? Or will she leave? What is she searching for?” He pauses, obviously waiting for an answer.

My mouth is dry despite the cool water Kadee gave me with my meal. “I search for . . . hope. Hope for my people. I came from the forest, some days’ walk away. We live on the forest floor, where we grow our food and hunt what we can. But we must hide from the Scourge, what you call the runa. When they come we hide in caves until they leave again. We can’t leave the forest because we need the water from our water hole. I came in search of a new source of water, to give my people a chance for freedom from the Scourge.”

“And your friend?” Wirrim asks.

“His name is Peree. His people live in the trees above us. They depend on the water, too, and he came for the same reason, to find a place where his people can live free from fear.”

“You came from the Dark Place?”

“Our legends tell of water in the caves that’s protected from the creatures. Peree and I searched for days. We found it, the underground river that feeds your water hole, but he was injured, so we couldn’t go back home to tell our people.”

“How was he injured?” Kadee asks.

“He was attacked by an animal we came across in the caves.” The listening people murmur at that. “She was trapped between us and the sick ones. She protected her young, and Peree protected me.” I swallow again, thinking about what it cost him.

“What kind of animal?” a woman asks.

“We thought it might be a tiger.”

“Tiger? There are no tigers here,” a man says.

“Peree wasn’t sure. He’d never seen one before. He said the animal was big and yellowish, with black markings on its body.” There are more excited murmurs. I hear the words lynx and cougar, but they must be the first language because I don’t know what they mean. “The wound became infected, and Peree was suffering terribly. We couldn’t go back. He didn’t want to die in the dark, so I took a chance on the river, hoping to find the sun. Luckily, the sun found us—Kora.” I smile toward where I think Arika is sitting. “And . . . you know the rest.”

“I am sorry your friend was injured, but it is good news that you came across a big cat. Very good news,” Wirrim says. “The predators are returning.”

I hope they won’t mind if I ask a few questions now. “What about the sick ones? Where do you hide when they come? The trees?”

“Hiding is not necessary in Koolkuna,” Wirrim says. “It is protected.”

It takes a moment for the significance of his words to sink in. A whole village

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