The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,7

of two grown men, so the walkways are too far up for humans—and more importantly, half-dead humans—to reach by climbing.

There are more creatures coming, hurtling toward me through the trees. Panic almost takes me again. I need to focus on something, anything, other than the flesh-eaters pressing in.

I call to Peree. “They’re keeping their distance?”

“Yes, but if they don’t I’ll take out a few more. Keep walking; you’re almost to the clearing now. It’s to your left–”

“I know where it is.” I might be terrified and disoriented, but I don’t need a Lofty to give me directions in the forest.

I hear creatures dart at me, stopping right before they reach me. Others pace alongside. If I were to run they would chase, quick as the fleetest animals. In the rare moments they’re quiet, I hear their tongues searching. The sighted say many of the creatures don’t really have mouths anymore, only gaping, seeping holes in what were once their very human faces. My stomach contracts, pushing up the little breakfast I managed to eat. I put my hands on my knees, and saliva pools in my mouth.

“Have you ever heard of a tiger?” Peree asks.

I swallow hard. “A what?”

“Hold still.” An arrow whistles by, followed by another thump. “A tiger, it’s an animal.” He sounds relaxed, like we’re sitting and chatting over a meal, instead of having a semi-shouted conversation from the ground to the trees, overheard by the creatures and who knows how many Lofties.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“They were big cats, amazing hunters, graceful and beautiful, and they had a wild scream that would put the fleshies to shame.”

I wince as a creature shrieks at my side. “That’s hard to imagine.”

“For me as well.” His voice is grim. “Are you able to see colors at all?”

“No, but I’ve heard some colors are warmer, like red, and some cooler, like blue, with others in between. So that’s how I picture them, as degrees of heat.” It snowed a few seasons ago. I guessed the soft, frosty flakes must be blue—to Calli’s everlasting amusement.

“Well, tigers would be warm, like a fire you don’t want to get too close to. They’re orange, with black marks all over their bodies. In ancient times, the tiger was chosen by the gods to protect humans. He did it so well, he was given three marks across his forehead to represent great battles he won against three evil animals. When the tiger won a final time, saving the human race, the gods placed a mark down his forehead, intersecting the others. They formed a word, ‘King,’ in the ancient people’s language. The word could be seen on all tigers from then on.”

I start walking again, following the line of trees circling the clearing. A branch creaks above my head. The Lofties leave spaces between some trees as firebreaks. Peree must have swung across a gap.

“I wish the gods would send an animal to fight the Scourge,” I say. “How do you know about tigers?”

“My mother told me—my foster mother. She knew a lot of stories from before and after the Fall. Stories about animals, and strange tales of our ancestors who lived in the City, in homes as tall as the tops of mountain peaks, and taller.”

“Our teacher told us about the City,” I say. “He said it was a nasty, crowded place, full of evil people. He told us that’s where the Scourge was born.”

“Mother never said any of that, only that it was large and lit up at night by specks of light, like mists of fireflies.”

“You said she knew those stories. Is she . . .?”

He’s silent.

“I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

I hear him load his bow. Another thump. The creatures howl in response. “The sled track’s in front of you,” he says.

I know that, but I don’t say it this time.

I’m amazed I made it this far. I was very close to losing my nerve and running back to the cave—until I heard Peree call to me from the trees. His arrows discouraged the flesh-eaters, and his story about the tigers distracted me. I’m beginning to understand why Aloe insists our Keepers are important.

I reach out to find the smooth wooden rails of the sled track, praying I don’t touch any of the creatures hovering around me. I’ll drag the sled and heavy oilskin sacks of water up the steep tracks, while doing my best to ignore the enraged creatures. This will be the most physically difficult part of the