The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,85
dream.
As usual, it’s the thought of Eland that keeps me moving forward. Despite everything I learned today, or maybe because of it, I need to know if he’s all right.
“How much longer?” I ask, my voice stiff and unrecognizable.
“Not long. I recognize the shape of the hills here. We’re close.”
That brings a question to mind. “Why don’t the runa go into the caves? They would at least offer protection from the weather.”
“Because of the cold and the dark. They’re even less prepared to deal with it than we are. I know it’s hard to think of them as people, but that’s what they are. Sick, confused, sometimes dangerous, but people.”
One of the creatures mimics her, repeating the word people several times, like a young child just learning to speak. “Can they ever be brought back? Their minds, I mean?”
“The anuna tried caring for a few of the sick ones, to see if they could reverse the process of the poison. It seemed to depend on how long they had been sick.” She hesitates. “Kaiya was one of the few successes.”
That stuns me. “What?”
“We don’t speak of this often,” Kadee says. “As a young girl, Kai wandered away from her parents, into the forest. The tracking party found her, but she had become runa. In time, Nerang was able to bring her back.”
“Is she . . . normal, now?”
“Yes. For the most part. But I’m sorry to say she was never quite treated the same after that. People feared her, I think. She’s always kept to herself—a loner either by choice or necessity.”
“She liked being with Peree.”
“He was kind to her. He didn’t know about her background. And, well, she’s a young girl, and he’s a handsome boy.”
So I keep hearing. I scowl, feeling the familiar irritation, but it’s followed by guilt that I didn’t try harder to befriend Kai. I know how isolating it can be to feel different.
Kadee squeezes my hand tentatively. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, when it comes to Peree’s feelings about you.” She stops, and I hear her drop her pack on the ground. “Take out any food and water you have. We need to leave it here.”
“Why?”
“For the runa. Otherwise they’ll follow us home. Anyone who sees them will think we’re in danger of being consumed.”
At that, I do what she asked, and we walk away as the sick ones surround the small pile. Lost in my brooding, I start to wonder if we’re close enough to home now for me to recognize anything. I’m accustomed to retracing my steps when I’m away from the community, not approaching it from a completely unknown direction. The truth is, I could stumble right into our clearing and not realize it. So I’m not too surprised when that’s exactly what happens.
The sun is setting, intensifying the darkness, when Kadee slows again. “Welcome home,” she says.
Really? I hurry forward, groping in front of me to find anything that feels familiar. It smells like home, but then again the entire greenheart forest smells like home. There are no voices, or sounds of fires being kindled, or smells of food being prepared. I only hear a few plaintive bird calls from the trees. My heart sinks. Everyone must still be in the caves. But why? The Scourge isn’t here.
“The shelters look like they haven’t been used,” Kadee says. She sounds worried. “Fennel, perhaps we should–”
An arrow slices the air beside my ear. Another divides the narrow space between us.
“Stop right there,” a man says from the trees. “Unless you want to be under the ground by morning.”
We freeze. A moment later, someone snickers.
“Then they’d be Undergroundlings, Petrel,” a boy says.
“Quiet,” the man mutters.
“Petrel? Is that you?” Kadee calls.
The leaves above us tremble as someone moves closer, following a walkway. “Who’s there?”
“It’s your Aunt Blaze,” Kadee says. “And Fennel, the Water Bearer.”
“Try again,” he says bitterly. “Blaze is dead, and so is the Water Bearer."
“No, we’re alive . . . and Peree, too,” I say. "He was injured, but he’s recovering.”
“Peree’s alive? Where is he?” the boy chirps. He sounds younger than Eland. Why is a young boy armed and shooting at Groundlings?
“Thrush, go find Shrike,” Petrel says. The boy runs off, skittering down the walkway like a squirrel. I hear Petrel pull an arrow from his quiver to reload his bow.
“Trusting, isn’t he?” I whisper.
“He used to be,” Kadee says sadly.
“What’s going on?” I whisper. “Where do you think everyone is?”