much farther. Bring the sled to the end of the track. I’ll lower the ropes.”
Guided by his voice, I reach up for the ropes, and tie them to the sacks. He hoists them into the trees. The Lofties will deliver our portion to us at the mouth of the caves after nightfall, when it’s safer. The flesh-eaters don’t seem to see as well at night. I start again, skimming the empty sled back down the tracks, trying to ignore the creatures surging around me. I fill two more sacks and load them on the sled. Step. Pull. Step. Pull.
Peree talks to me as I rest, my back against the side of the sled and my head in my hands, but I don’t register what he says. When he finishes lifting the sacks up, I haul the sled back down to the water. I focus on the rhythm of the work as much as I can, trying to pretend I’m in the quiet caves, stocking the storeroom. But it’s not the same, not by a long shot.
When I finally finish, I step out of the harness and stumble back toward the clearing. The creatures still follow, but there are fewer now. Peree follows, too. I speed up when I reach the clearing. The trees on the other side are all that separate me from Aloe and Eland—from safety.
The flesh-eaters seem to sense my desperation as I near the caves. They encircle me again. Aloe calls from the entrance, and I dive into the darkness. She pulls me into her arms.
“Brave, brave girl,” she croons, stroking my hair. I let her soothe me, grateful to be alive. The scent of death recedes as the Scourge melts back into the forest.
“Peree,” Aloe calls. “Tell Breeze we’ll collect our water at dusk.”
“I’ll tell her. I’ll see you in the morning, Fenn.”
The morning. When I’ll have to do it all again. I crumple in Aloe’s arms, and the tears flow.
I wake before dawn. I don’t know how I know what time of day it is this deep in the caves, but I do. I give no sign I’m awake. I don’t want the day to find me.
Adder met Aloe and me in the passage as we came in last night, already hurling questions at me. Did I fill six sacks of water? How many of the flesh-eaters did there seem to be? Did I hear any Lofties other than Peree?
Aloe guided me past him. “Later,” she said.
Calli and Bear grabbed me next, hugging me to them. Eland drove into us so hard we all crashed to the stone floor of the cave. Our shouts caused others to come running, thinking there had been a cave-in.
Once I was seated, people brought me food and water. They touched me, speaking in whispers, sounding . . . reverential. My protection from the creatures was confirmed, and it gave them a new respect for me. Some asked questions about the Scourge, or about my Keeper, and I answered as well as I could. But no matter what else they asked, everyone wanted to know the same thing in the end: did the flesh-eaters show any signs of leaving?
The Scourge typically stays for two or three days, but they could stay longer. Sometimes even a week or more. The elders didn’t speak of those times.
A week. I’d been through one day.
I won’t think about it. One step at a time, one minute at a time.
Before we fell asleep, Eland asked me what it was really like to face the flesh-eaters. He seemed to sense I was holding back with other people, and he was right. But I wouldn’t tell him the truth either. Because the more I thought about it, the more shameful the truth became.
I was afraid of the Scourge, and of my own fear, as Aloe had been. Dreadfully afraid. The only thing that forced me to my feet when I was crushed by my fear, persuaded me to move again when I was paralyzed by it, was a Lofty. A Lofty—oppressive and superior. They keep us in our place, literally, with their bows and arrows. But I wouldn’t have done my duty without Peree talking me through it. I would have failed my people, and myself.
And what about Peree? He’s kind. Concerned. Funny, even. Things Lofties aren’t supposed to be. I’m not supposed to like him.
So I told Eland a different truth. I told him Aloe was wrong. Protection from the Scourge isn’t the gift of our