“I’m looking for a special tree. One that won’t hurt us.”
“How did you— Never mind. This way.” She jogs off and I follow, sticking close to her heels, ducking when she ducks, jumping when she jumps. Limbs reach for us, plants bite at us, but none are able to catch us.
“How do you know where you’re going?” I ask.
“The land is a maze filled with hundreds of invisible doorways that lead back to where you started—or into a trap. You either learn to navigate or you become bait for the animals. You don’t want to be bait. Your screams will join all the others as your organs are eaten...regrown...and eaten again.”
Many ends...
As we continue to run, I pick up the pattern in her actions. There’s always a pattern, nothing by chance. Eight steps, duck. Nine steps, jump. Ten steps, turn. Eleven steps, turn. Twelve steps—
This is a count up, I realize. As if I’m gaining more time the farther I go. And if I were to turn and head in the opposite direction—twelve steps duck, eleven steps jump, ten steps turn, nine steps turn, eight steps duck—it would be a countdown. Time running out.
Symbolic?
Boom!
The ground shakes, but I’m used to it and manage to stay on my feet. The trees and foliage shrink away from us, and in the distance, the mushroom cloud rises.
“Hurry!” Kayla pants. “The birds always know when fresh meat has arrived.”
The first tingles of dread arise. One step, five, eight and spin. A loud gaggle of squawks cuts through the smoky air.
“How much farther?” I’m wheezing now.
“Almost...there.” She’s wheezing worse.
Eight times eight times eight they fly, whatever you do, don’t stay dry.
One of the birds swoops down, its claws open, ready to latch on to Kayla. As I dive on her, knocking her out of the way, the tips of those claws scrap my back and I cry out. When we land, we roll forward. Up ahead, there’s an anthill and a swarm of ember-bugs. We’re going to end up in one or the other, because this is freaking Many Ends, and there’s no escaping an opportunity for pain.
An-n-nd the anthill wins.
The little beasties have upraised eyes, like alligators, yet they have the belly and stinger of a bumblebee and the legs of a cricket. And if the drool dripping from their fangs—because yes, we can add vampire to the mix—means anything, Ten is on the dinner menu.
They converge on me en masse, crawling all over me, biting me. Screaming, I bat at my face, my arms. Kayla’s screams soon blend with mine. We’re being eaten alive, and we can’t go on like this. It’s too much, but the sad thing is, it won’t kill us.
An ember-bug joins the party, stinging me, blistering me, but also killing some of the ants. An idea hits me. It’s horrible. It’s going to get me hurt. But I’ll recover. Maybe.
I throw myself into the swarm of ember-bugs. They sting me repeatedly, and I’m pretty sure my skin is melting off, but the ants are dying, too, so I consider it a win. Though my eyes are so swollen that I’m nearing total blindness, I’m able to find Kayla through her screams and throw myself at her. Our limbs tangle, the ember-bugs attacking her, as well.
When the last of the ants are killed, I tighten my grip on Kayla and roll over the grass, rocks cutting into exposed muscle but also smashing the ember-bugs. By the time we still, I’m leaking so much Lifeblood I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to stand.
“Almost...there,” Kayla gasps. Her eyes and lips are as swollen as mine, and there are puncture marks all over her face, neck and arms. She manages to climb to all fours. “This way.”
Squawks sound from the sky. The birds must be circling us. We’re easy pickings.
I grit my teeth and climb to all fours, as well. Dizziness nearly topples me as I make my way forward, staying behind her through touch alone, my fingers brushing her foot every time I extend my arm.
Finally, blessedly, she stops. “Eat,” she says, placing something in my hand.
I don’t take the time to study it—why even try? My eyes are still too swollen to see more than shadows. I just stuff the thing—a leaf?—into my mouth and chew with what little strength I have left. The moment I swallow, however, that “little” strength multiplies.
My swelling goes down, and skin begins to grow over my muscles.
I realize I’m under a Wisteria tree. The