The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,84

go to Koolkuna. If he left the forest, he’d have to leave you, too.” She pauses. “Fennel, I’m going back today because I failed as a mother. I failed you when I gave you up in the Exchange, and I failed Peree when I left the trees. It’s time for me to stand up, not only for my children, but for all the children of the forest.”

I told Peree I expect surprises, that I’m used to them, but nothing could prepare me for all of this. Kadee is my mother, Shrike is my father, and Peree is sort of my brother. My people intentionally blinded me, and Aloe fostered me as some kind of favor. I pitch to the side again, retching.

When my stomach empties, tears well up like blood from a wound. I cry for our world, destroyed by people who recklessly believed they could control a deadly poison. I cry for the sick ones, doomed to walk the earth hungry and wretched, shunned as monsters. I cry for our people, who hide in caves or trees because they can’t see the world as it really is. And I cry for myself. Because for no good reason, I can’t see at all.

Chapter Eighteen

I sit, waiting for my stomach to settle and my legs to stop shaking. Kadee doesn’t press me to talk or to keep moving. She waits beside me, a witness. I want to be angry at her for giving me up, and for leaving Peree. Mostly for being weak. But at first all I feel is the dazed, empty sensation that my world was again overturned like a bucket of dirty washing water.

When the rage comes, it snakes through my veins, hardening my resolve. Who did they think they were, treating innocent children this way? All of them—Lofties and Groundlings. Who decided babies could be traded like so much meat or grain? Used to serve their purposes? That people could be separated and kept in their place with threats, brute force, and fear, supported by antiquated traditions?

Kadee. Aloe. Shrike. The Three. Every adult in my life, everyone who ever had the responsibility to protect me, failed me instead. I’ve spent my life trying to live up to what my family and my people expected me to be. What they made me. The Water Bearer. Until now, I didn’t allow myself any other choice but to do my duty. Until now.

I stand and wait for the dizziness to pass, then I swing my pack on my back. It’s time to go home. And Kadee’s right. It’s time for the secrets and lies to end.

Clouds wander in front of the sun, dispelling the heat. When the trees thin out, Kadee offers me her arm again. My mother’s arm. I pay more attention to it now. It’s thin, but not so bony as Aloe’s. Her skin is softer, too. I wonder if I look like her at all. No one ever said so, but they wouldn’t have unless the resemblance was striking.

There’s rustling in the woods, and soft moans. I stiffen.

“Don’t worry,” Kadee murmurs, catching my hand. “It’s only the runa.”

I clamp my lips together, pushing down the panic. In my seventeen years, no one ever said, “Don’t worry, it’s only the Scourge.” They were too busy running.

I focus on keeping the same steady pace as the creatures draw near us. The stench threatens to gag me again. My throat tightens and the hair bristles along the back of my neck. As more of the sick ones shuffle up, Kadee pulls food from her pack, offering it to them. These creatures don’t give thanks, but they do eat. Or try to eat. It sounds like the food dribbles out of some of their mouths. I try to summon any feeling more compassionate than disgust. I fail.

I can’t yet forget the horrific stories of the Scourge I grew up hearing, the memories of the many times they pursued us to the caves, or the hordes of them pressing in on me, their tongues worrying the flesh where their lips should be. The foul smell brings the memories back so clearly. I press Peree’s little bird against my chest, wishing he was here.

The creatures follow us, muttering and moaning for help. When one of them stumbles toward me I shrink away, trembling with the desire to run. Run anywhere. It doesn’t matter which direction, as long as it’s away from anything familiar. I want freedom. I want to escape. Like in my