The Scourge (A.G. Henley)

CHAPTER Thirteen



I mean to get up early the next morning, but Kadee’s sitting room is flooded with sunlight when I finally wake. As I near Peree’s shelter, I’m surprised to hear a female voice. It’s Kai.

“That one rolled!” she says.

“No, it didn’t,” Peree says.

“It did too, cheater!”

“Are you kidding? I don’t have to cheat to win a child’s game.”

“Cheater,” the girl says again, her voice teasing.

“Fine. As proof of my noble nature, I’ll take the high road. Take your turn.”

“You bet I will.”

Somehow I feel like I’m intruding as I step into the doorway.

“Fenn!” Peree sounds startled, and something else . . . guilty? “Do you know Kai? She was showing me a game they play here. It’s called, uh, spill sticks.”

“And you were cheating,” she murmurs to him.

“We met,” I say, wrestling a smile onto my face.

“I’m going,” she says to him. “You better practice. I won’t be so easy on you next time.”

Next time?

“See you. Thanks for the game,” he says, as she slips almost silently out the door. Like a snake. “So, how’d you sleep?” he asks me.

“Fine. You?” I can’t keep the clipped tone out of my voice.

“Great,” he says.

I hover near the door, suddenly annoyed. They weren’t doing anything suspicious, I tell myself, only playing some kind of kid’s game.

Together.

Alone.

Maybe it was that Peree sounded like he was having fun. Have we had fun together? Surviving the Scourge, wandering around in freezing caves, being attacked by animals, and almost dying. Fun? No.

“Oh, hey, guess what? Nerang made me a crutch.” I hear him take a few stumping steps. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I try to shake off my irritation. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Absolutely. Plus my warden’s letting me out on good behavior.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call your behavior good,” I say, and instantly wish I hadn’t.

He sighs. “Fenn, Kai was just being nice. I think she’s kind of lonely. She’s been hanging around here a lot. She’s like one of the men—Nerang says she hunts, and she’s really good with a spear.”

Great—she’s lonely, hanging around a lot, and they have hunting in common. Was that supposed to make me feel better? I shake myself again. I’m being ridiculous, and a little mean-spirited. Well, he’s not the only one who can take the high road. “No, I’m glad you’re making a friend,” I say firmly.

“So do you want to take a walk? If so, we better get out of here, before Nerang changes his mind and locks me up again.”

I take him on a quick tour of the village, pointing out the gardens, the workspaces, and the allawah. I share what I know about the people, too, which is a lot, thanks to Kora and Bega. Then we take a ride into the trees on the magical flying platform. It’s not quite as bad this time, but I’m still nauseatingly attuned to every lurching upward motion. Peree laughs at my queasy expression. We stroll around the walkways, stopping often so he can interrogate carpenters, and examine such fascinating things as bend knots and junctions. It’s good to hear him so enthusiastic.

The people don’t seem as suspicious of Peree as they did of me. I guess they’ve gotten the word that the lorinyas are harmless. Or maybe it’s that Peree probably doesn’t look too dangerous while leaning on a crutch with a heavy limp.

The laundry area’s deserted today. Peree leads me to the edge of the platform, helping me duck under the rows of empty ropes. He describes the view of the forest, and the nearby hills. Somewhere in there, the Hidden Waters bubble.

“Want to sit for a few minutes?” he asks, his voice a little too innocent.

“Why? Do you need a rest?” I tease.

“Don’t tell Nerang.” He sits, stretching his legs out in front of him with a contented sigh.

“So what do you think of Koolkuna?” I ask.

“You were right, it’s amazing. It reminds me of a story my mother told once about some people who were trying to reach this safe place where they could live, but they had to walk through a valley of death to get there. When they arrived, they found green pastures and calm waters, and all the food they needed—you know, without having to fight each other for it. And something about all the animals living together there, too. The tigers lay down with the sheep, or something like that. I can’t remember the details, but it was a good story.”

“Speaking of tigers, the anuna were pretty excited that we ran across a big animal like that. Although they didn’t think it was a tiger,” I say.

“All things considered, I wish we hadn’t run across her. But she was beautiful . . .” He sighs. “I wish it could have gone another way.”

“Me too.” I lie back and fold my hands across my stomach. The wood of the platform is warm, and as smooth as a polished rock. The afternoon sun heats my skin. Peree lies back too, his head close to mine.

“I wonder what everyone at home thinks happened to us,” I say.

“Probably that we’re in some kind of paradise, toasting our safety with the cool, clean Hidden Waters.”

I laugh. “That is pretty much what we’re doing.”

“We’ve earned a little downtime, don’t you think?”

Eland, my mind whispers. Aloe, Calli. “I guess.”

We avoid the subject of home from then on, talking instead about Koolkuna. It’s peaceful, lying side by side with Peree, enjoying the sun and the cool breeze that crops up, as the afternoon stretches on. It’s as close to fun as we’ve had. And I don’t remember ever feeling this . . . safe. Contentment soaks into places deep inside me, empty places I didn’t even know existed.

I’d planned to take Peree by Kadee’s house on the way home, but as he drags himself slowly across the dusty ground, it’s clear he’s overdone it today. We go straight to his shelter instead. By the time we get there, he doesn’t even complain about getting into bed.

“How’s Peree today?” Kadee asks when I come in a few minutes later. She’s preparing our dinner.

I ask for a broom and start sweeping, determined to make myself useful. “Unbelievably well. He’s stronger each time I visit him. I never would have thought he’d be able to walk so soon, even with a crutch. Then again, he can be hardheaded when he wants something.”

She laughs. “So Nerang said.”

I think about his game with Kai. Yeah, he’s getting his strength back all right. An idea floats into my head, and I stop mid-sweep. “Kadee, Peree told me not long ago that he’s always wanted to swim. I thought I might give him a lesson. But is it okay to swim in the water hole? Is it protected?”

“The protection at the Myuna is . . . strongest, at midday. I’d go then. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it. That’s very thoughtful of you.” I notice her pause, but I don’t know what to make of it.

“I owe him,” I say. I tell her about the swim he arranged for me.

“It sounds like you’re lucky to have each other.”

I smile at her. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend, too. I know Peree will feel the same way when he meets you.”

“I hope so,” she says, and she sounds strangely wistful.



The next morning I stop by Peree’s shelter on my way to the gardens. He’s already outside, practicing with his crutch. He sounds like he’s moving well, but I can hear the sharp intakes of breath as he puts weight on his bad leg.

“I have a surprise for you,” I tell him.

“What is it?”

“What kind of surprise would it be if I told you? Be ready to take a little walk around lunchtime. Maybe you should res–”

“Don’t say it!”

“All right, all right.” I laugh. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

I spend a contented morning helping to dig up vegetables and listening to people talk about the upcoming Feast of Deliverance. I find myself getting caught up in the excitement. Two younger girls giggle and chatter in the next row. Kadee suddenly laughs beside me.

“What is it?” I ask, struggling with an unobliging carrot.

“They’re talking about Peree.”

I rub my forehead with the back of my soil-covered hand. The bruise still itches a little. “What about him?”

“They’re calling him Myall—it means wild boy. Apparently they think he’s quite handsome.”

I hack at the crumbling earth around the carrot with a stick. Wonderful. First Kai, now these two. Aren’t there any other eligible men in Koolkuna?

I leave the gardens a little before noon. The wild boy’s outside when I arrive. He tries to take the packed lunch Kadee made for us, but I wave him off.

“You just focus on staying upright,” I say.

“I’ll do my best. So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He sighs. “Have I told you I hate surprises?”

I stop walking, worried I’m making a mistake. “Really? We don’t have to–”

“Joking, joking . . . I just hate waiting.”

“Come on, then,” I say.

We take a path around the clearing, staying under the shady trees, stopping occasionally to let Peree rest. He transfers the crutch from arm to arm as if it might be bothering him, but he doesn’t complain. When we turn away from the village onto the path to the water hole, he hesitates.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Sure about what?”

“That this way is safe?”

“Kadee said it’s protected,” I say.

“And you trust her?”

I nod.

“Okay, I guess. It’s not like we’ve seen any sign of the fleshies since we got here.” He limps forward again.

“That’s true. I wonder when they’ll decide to show us how the protection works. Why all the mystery, do you think?” I ask.

“No idea.”

“They’ll probably want to talk to you soon, now that you’re on your feet.”

“I don’t mind talking to them,” he says, “but I hate feeling like I’m on display. Everyone stares at me when we walk around the village.”

I grin. “Maybe they can’t help themselves. I heard some girls talking about you at the gardens. You should hear your new nickname, it’s wild.”

“What is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I say.

“No, not really,” he says, but he sounds pleased. “So, where are we going again?”

I groan. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you patience is a virtue?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t sink in.”

“Clearly. We should be close.” I can hear the waterfall now. “Look for a path that leads to the left.”

We take the path, and Peree stops as we near the waterhole. I have to raise my voice to be heard. “Do you remember this place?”

“No, not really, more like I dreamed about it.”

“What did you dream?”

He doesn’t answer at first. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“I was the hunter and you were the cassowary woman. One of your sisters came to bring you home.”

I nod. “That must have been when Kora showed up. You told me to go with her.” I think back to the moment she found us. It was early, soon after first light. Kadee implied the water hole was less protected at other times of the day. So what was Kora doing here then?

Peree whistles. “That waterfall—I’m feeling even luckier to be alive. The water level looks low, though. Nerang said they haven’t had much rain this year.”

“I’ve heard that too. They’re trying to conserve water in the garden.”

“The rains always come, though, right? There hasn’t been a real drought in years,” he says.

Willow used to talk about the last drought. She said it was a terrible time. The water hole almost completely dried up, and the people were desperate. The flesh-eaters were especially dangerous then, picking off the people who left the caves mad with thirst.

“So the surprise is a picnic?” he asks, taking the sack from me. “That’s great, I’m starving. Plus I was beginning to think you were leading me here as bait for the Scourge.”

"It's a picnic, but I also thought . . ." Suddenly I wonder if it was such a good idea to try to surprise him with a swim lesson. What if he isn’t interested? “You know how Nerang said it would be good to soak your leg? And you said you’d always wanted to swim. I thought maybe I’d give you a lesson, if you want.”

“Seriously? You will?” He drops his crutch, and I hear him pull off his shirt. I picture his uncovered body, and my body flames. I turn away to hide my embarrassment.

“Your men swim with their shirts off,” he says, uncertainty in his voice, “don’t they?”

They do, but I never found myself imagining many of them naked. I force myself to sound casual. “All the time.” I kick off my shoes. “Come on, last one in is a fleshie!”

We leap in—well, hop is more like it. Peree’s cautious because of his leg, and I have to be careful about where I’m jumping. But the water is incredibly refreshing after the heat of the midday sun. I dive under and come up streaming, the slick mud squishing between my toes. I swim toward the center of the pool, smiling as I glide under the surface, thrilled to be in the water again. After a few minutes of splashing around, I wade through the water to him, my dress clinging to my legs like a bashful child.

“Ready for your lesson?” I ask.

“Ready.”

“Let’s start with floating on your back—that’s what all our toddlers learn first thing,” I tease.

“Watch it, Groundling, or I’ll drag you up into the trees and make you stay there.”

I laugh, holding up my hands. “Anything but that! Okay, lie back in the water with your arms and legs out, like this.” I demonstrate. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold you. You won’t sink.”

I stand to his side and slide my hands under him as he tries it. The lean muscles of his back tense at my touch. “Try to relax.”

“Easier said than done,” he mutters.

I know what he means. As my fingers slip across his bare skin, heat spreads from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair like I’m in a pot of boiling water instead of a sun-warmed water hole. By the time Peree stands again, my heart is pumping unevenly, and my legs feel strangely disconnected from the rest of my body.

I struggle to keep my voice normal. “Good job. Now try again, and this time I’ll only help if you need me.” My hands itch to touch him again as he tries to float on his own, but I rest them on my hips instead. When he stands, water cascades down from his hair and torso. I don’t let myself imagine for too long what it might feel like if my arms were around him.

“I can float,” he says proudly.

I smile at him. “And now if you get in over your head, you know what to do.”

He steps closer. “What if I am already?”

“If you’re already what?” I ask.

“In over my head.”

My heart thumps again. “Then you, um, float, and kick your legs and move your arms, until you reach a safe place.”

Another step closer. “But what if I don’t want to be safe? What if I want to be reckless?”

“Then you . . . drown?”

“Exactly,” he murmurs.

We’re almost touching, the water trickling down our bodies. My skin explodes in goose bumps, and not from the cold. He slides his hands down my arms from my shoulders to my fingers, smoothing my skin. I can’t breathe, fearing what I might do if I gave my hands free reign—and fearing not having the chance again if I don’t.

A bird swoops across the water beside us, breaking the spell. I step back. A few moments pass. When Peree speaks again, he sounds almost normal. Almost.

“Let’s check out that waterfall. I like to get a good look at the things that almost kill me.”

After several deep breaths to compose myself, I follow him. We skirt along the outside of the water hole. It isn’t that deep—at least at the edge—or very far to the waterfall. Peree finds a narrow pocket in the wall of rock behind the falls, big enough for two. He climbs in, and helps me up beside him.

The water careens down in front of us, battering the surface of the pool. It’s magnetic, exhilarating, undeniably powerful. I lean toward the spray and thrust my hand into the freezing column of water, but it’s slapped away. So I reach for Peree’s hand instead. He wraps his cold fingers around mine.

I consider all that’s happened since we came to Koolkuna. When we survived the waterfall, it was like we emerged into some other world. Somewhere not quite the same as the one we knew before. A magical place, out of one of Peree’s mother’s tales. The valley of death? I live there. I know all about it. But here I’m a stranger. A lorinya. As I hold Peree’s hand, I wonder if there’s a possibility we could find our own space. Somewhere we both belong. Somewhere between the ground and the trees.

Peree and I make our way back to shore, and lie down in the sun to dry out. Something’s changed between us. The air around our bodies feels charged, like the forest before a storm. I’m excruciatingly aware of him: his slow, even breath, his face turning an inch toward the sun, his hand twitching at his side. And I can tell he’s equally aware of me. It’s stirring . . . and scary, like the dangerous pull of the waterfall.

I unpack the lunch Kadee made. Peree digs in. I pick at a thick slice of bread.

“Nerang wasn’t kidding about your appetite,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

“The food is good. Different, but good. I could get used to it.”

“Anything tastes better than days of dried meat.” A familiar pang cuts through my chest. What is Eland eating now? Are he and Calli and Bear still in the caves? What challenges is Aloe facing on the Council? I long to hear their voices and know they’re safe.

“I wish you could see the color of that water. It’s half green and half blue. Beautiful, like . . .” he thinks about it, “like Moonlight’s eyes. Not like our dirty brown water at home.”

I’m surprised at the flare of resentment I feel when Peree compares the “beautiful” blue water to another girl’s eyes, even if she is pretty much family. Especially considering he also described brown, the color of my eyes, as dirty. I keep my face smooth, to hide my hurt feelings.

I’m still nursing my pride as we finish our picnic lunch and walk back to the village. We stop in front of Kadee’s door, and Peree takes my hand.

“Did I do something to make you angry?” he asks.

“No, I’m fine,” I say quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” he says doubtfully. “Thanks for the picnic, and the lesson. Maybe next time I’ll be brave enough to put my face in the water.”

I force a smile. He pulls me in for a hug . . . and the hurt feelings dwindle as my body surges with that bewildering energy again. I tighten my arms around him, crutch and all.

Voices come toward us through the trees. Sounds like Nerang and–

“Kadee!” I take his hand, pulling him toward them. “Come meet her . . .”

I trail off as Peree jerks to a stop beside me.

“I don’t believe it,” he says.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me,” Kadee says. “Hello, my son.”