The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,35
would be ready to grab our opponents’ water for the win, when the Snake would suddenly slip from behind us, carrying our sack for the enemy. Calli was a surprisingly good Snake. No one ever remembered to suspect her. I heard Adder was the best Snake of his generation, hands down.
I want to trust Peree. He acts like he’s on my team. But he’s a Lofty—and he might be a snake in the grass.
I answer him. “We didn’t discuss it. I don’t think they believe I’ll find the waters. What do you think your Council will do?”
“Thank me for being the brave, selfless sort who would venture through enemy territory to help my people. After punishing me for sneaking off."
“Do you have a Council of Three, like us?”
“No, ours is different.”
“How?”
He hesitates. “We all make decisions together.”
“Really?” I curl on my side, pulling my bedroll up to my ears. “I never knew that. And it works?” We wouldn’t get anything done if we made decisions as a group.
“Most of the time,” he says.
It’s fascinating to hear about the Lofties. They’re like the tree-tops themselves—always nearby, part of our lives—but entirely a mystery. I shiver as the frigid air creeps through my bedroll.
“Cold?” Peree asks.
“Freezing. You?”
“Can’t feel much below my elbows and knees. How about another bedtime story, to take your mind off it?”
My face is too stiff to smile. “Please.”
“This is the story of how the world was created—according to my mother, anyway . . . In the time before time, when all was darkness and silence on the earth, the ancestors lived in caves underground, like this one. One day they got tired of the dark and the cold, and they broke through to the surface, and created the sun to warm and light the world. They made water, air, fire, mountains, rivers, deserts; they created the people, plants, and all the different animals. When the ancestors were tired, they returned under the earth to rest, but they left their spirits in all living things, to bind us together.”
I think about that. “Did the ancestors create the Scourge?”
“I don’t know. The Scourge isn’t part of the story.”
“They never are, are they? Like there are no new stories since the Scourge came, none worth telling, anyway.” I blow warm air into my curled palms. “I wish we had stories about where they came from, and why. Maybe if we knew, we could find a way to stop them.”
“Defeating the flesh-eaters. That would be a good story,” he agrees. “Sometimes, when I watch them, I wonder if some part of the people they were is still there, like they aren’t willing to let go completely, even if it means living like that. It would make sense, given what you thought you heard.”
I think of the people I’ve known who were dying. They do cling to life, despite the suffering. I shiver again, as darkness swallows the last pinpoint of fire. “Thank you for coming with me, Peree.”
“I’m your Keeper; where else would I be?”
“Let’s see, at home in the trees by a warm fire, eating a meal with Shrike; or in a little shelter on the perimeter, watching the sun set over the forest–”
He laughs. “Okay, okay, don’t remind me.”
I laugh, too. Then I turn over and try to sleep. As unsettling dreams beckon me, I think I hear him murmur, “Anyway I’d be watching the Scourge, not the sunset, and wondering where you were. I’d just as soon be here.”
His words warm my heart, while every other part of my body ices over in the never-ending night of the caves.
We wake early. It’s too bitterly cold to sleep any longer. I jump up and down, trying to encourage my feet to come back to the world of the living. The pounding noise is earsplitting after the silence.
“I’ll make a fire again, to warm us up for a few minutes,” Peree says, his voice hoarse from sleeping. The sound of it gives me the odd feeling of fingers tickling me on the inside.
“Let’s pack up and get moving. Walking will warm us up.”
He agrees, and lights a torch to see by while we gather our things. A few minutes later, packs on our protesting backs, we’re ready to go.
He tugs my sleeve. “Which way then, fearless leader?”
“You’re asking me? I’m Sightless, remember?”
“Hasn’t stopped you yet. I trust your judgment.”
“I’m really not sure,” I say. “This is as far as I’ve been.”