poison.”
Thunder bursts. The creatures almost echo Wirrim, murmuring “war” and “hate.”
“She said the poison was created many years before the Fall. It was so dangerous it was locked away, but later it was found by others who thought they could control it. They destroyed their enemies, and our world, in the same damning blow. The poison spread, uncontrolled, through the air and water, settling in the ground and the crops. It killed many people and animals. And it had another devastating effect: It caused people to lose their minds, their understanding—they went mad. No longer able to care for themselves, they became like senseless wild animals, desperate in their hunger and fear. These people joined growing groups of the similarly afflicted, and they became the runa. The woman who told us these stories called it a ‘madness of many.’ They have roamed the earth since that time.
“Pockets of survivors like your people, those who do not die or go mad, are still vulnerable. Instead of seeing the runa as ill, you see grotesque, flesh-eating monsters—what you call the Scourge. You kill them, and you separate yourselves from them, in trees or caves, and so you avoid succumbing to the madness yourselves. But you live immersed in your fear, and the poisoned water feeds your illusions—sip by deadly sip.”
He’s saying we’re all poisoned? Eland accidentally hit me in the head once with a rock. This sensation is similar, like whatever force keeps me upright and centered just wandered away. I speak for the first time, struggling to be heard over the wind, and the pleas of the creatures.
“Why do they look and sound different to Peree and me now? What protects Koolkuna?”
“When the anuna arrived here,” Wirrim says, “we drank from the Myuna and we no longer suffered from the madness. We could see the runa for what they were—people in great need of help. The Myuna comes from the Dark Place deep beneath the earth. It is pure; the poison did not contaminate it. Now you have drunk from it for many days, and eaten only the meat of animals who drink from it. The poison no longer controls your minds.”
The sounds of the Scourge have changed. It’s as if I should have understood them all along, if I’d only been listening properly. Mesmerized, I take a step toward the creatures.
“Fennel,” Peree growls. “Don’t.”
“It’s okay,” Kora says, stepping with me.
I stop. Walking into the Scourge myself is one thing, but allowing a child to get any closer is another. I’m about to tell her she can’t go, when Wirrim speaks again.
“Bring the offering.”
Kora moves forward. I try to pull her back, but Arika touches my arm.
“Please don’t worry. She’s given the offering before.”
“What is the offering?” Peree hisses.
“Food for the runa.”
“Food? You feed them?” he asks.
“I’m going with Kora,” I say.
The sickening smell grows with each step. That hasn’t changed. The instinctive terror from being close to the creatures crashes through me, but Kora and the others don’t hesitate. They walk to the edge of the clearing and stop in front of them. Dishes rattle as they’re laid on the ground.
One of the runa speaks, its voice weak and feeble. “Thank you.”
I reach out to it, pity overcoming fear. My trembling hand meets cold flesh for only a moment. It feels human, yet lifeless at the same time. The flesh of a corpse.
“They don’t like to be touched,” Kora whispers, pulling me back.
The sick ones take up the food. And as they melt back into the trees, every truth my life was built on vanishes with them.
Chapter Fifteen
People begin to leave the clearing as I make my way back to Peree’s side. Many touch me as they go, or speak to me with soft words of encouragement. I’m too stunned to respond. The trees sound like they’re being torn to pieces by the whipping wind, and we’re being doused with spray from the waterfall, but I barely notice. I don’t even hear Kadee move over to us, until she speaks.
“Come to my home if you’d like. I’ll make you breakfast, and answer your questions.”
I wait for Peree to respond, but he doesn’t, and after a moment, she walks away. I touch his arm, and realize his bow is still aimed at the line of trees, as if he thinks the runa will turn and charge us at any moment. He releases the arrow. A moment later it strikes a tree.
“I can’t believe it. I wouldn’t have believed it, if I