I said nothing.
Fayden swore. “Fine.” He loosed the pavement shard and aimed just before the lead dog.
The beast barked and lurched toward us, but the other two dogs crouched and ducked their tails between their legs as my brother grabbed a handful of rocks and pebbles.
“Get!” He released a spray of pebbles at the first dog. “Get out!” When he stomped and waved his hands, all three dogs scampered off.
I exhaled relief. “Thank you.”
“Don’t.” Fayden put away his sling. “The dogs hadn’t been that hungry, or a few rocks and some waving wouldn’t have scared them.”
“They looked plenty hungry to me.” Stef frowned in the direction the dogs had fled.
“They are hungry,” said Fayden. “But you saw the scratches. The mangy looks. And I told you: the pack is smaller now. I’ll give you one guess as to why.”
I wanted to be sick as we continued to the concert hall. Maybe they’d find something else to eat. Then again, maybe it would have been kinder to kill them quickly, like Fayden had wanted. They wouldn’t bring much meat or money, but they wouldn’t suffer any longer, either.
I didn’t know anymore. There were too many things I just didn’t know.
4
MY CHEST FELT weird and heavy as we continued through the old city. I couldn’t stop thinking of those dogs, that sad hunger in their eyes, and what Fayden had said about the pack growing smaller. And why.
I guided the others through the wreckage of the old city, down the only paths of this place that were familiar to me. This part of the old city had been devastated during the Cataclysm. Buildings toppled over. Vehicles had piled atop one another, creating walls of crumpled metal and shattered glass. Shredded rubber dripped from the wheels of overturned vehicles.
“How did I never know this was here?” Fayden said as we rounded a corner, and a white edge of the building shone in the sunlight.
I gestured at all the rubble surrounding the building. “So much of this part of the city is gone. It’s a miracle this place survived. There’s no reason it should have.”
Not only that, but there was a park next to the concert hall, which had mostly overgrown and concealed the building from outside view. The trees and brush were brown with summer and drought now, but I had sharp memories of coming here as a child, when everything had been covered in a hundred shades of green.
Though I knew that nature was simply reclaiming the land, it had seemed to me, when I was very young, that even the trees and earth wanted to protect this sanctuary of music.
“This way.” I guided Stef and Fayden through the maze of junk. Metal poles with busted lightbulbs watched like blind sentinels. A dry fountain crumbled beneath the onslaught of nature and heat. Ancient sculptures of men riding winged horses rested on the ground, vines creeping around legs and outstretched arms.
Once, this place had been loved. Honored. Now, it was a decaying secret, one I was going to expose to people I wasn’t sure I could trust. My injured shoulder throbbed as I heaved open one of the doors, its hinges shrieking, and we stepped into the cool darkness of the lobby.
“What is this?” Fayden asked.
“It’s where Mother took me every time she said we were going foraging.”
I hadn’t come here since she died, and it felt like betrayal, bringing a stranger and my brother here now. The concert hall had meant so much to me over the years.
But I took them through the entry hall, past the collection of art and statues, which Mother and I hadn’t dared touch, lest we break something. Somehow, the portraits and murals and crystal lamps always looked clean, as though someone else came here for reflection or learning, and cared for the artifacts during their stay. Like Mother had taught me to care for the instruments, as well as play them.
“Some of this stuff could be useful,” muttered Stef. He turned his eyes up to the old lamps and faces carved into the marble.
“Or sold.” Fayden shook his head. “I can’t believe how well preserved everything is.”
“Leave it.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “That isn’t why I brought you here.”
Fayden and Stef exchanged wry smiles. “Testy,” Stef said.
“You should have seen him as a child. He wouldn’t eat meat for a whole year because he realized it was animals.”
Great. Now they were friends and could spend all their time coming up with new ways to mock me.
My footfalls were silent as we moved through the lobby. Unconscious reverence, Mother had said when she noticed it, and now I stepped quietly for her memory, and all the things about her that I missed. Her warmth, understanding, and love: I missed those the most.