The Scourge (A.G. Henley)

CHAPTER Six



Two days later, and the Scourge is still here.

The community is meeting, trying to decide what to do. I sit with Bear in my usual spot, leaning back against the rock wall. I’m only half-listening. It doesn’t matter what they decide; I’ll still have to collect the water.

Unbelievably, no one discovered I spent the night in the trees. I slunk back to the cave that morning, the bite wrapped and hidden under the sleeve of my dress. Unsure what kind of reception I would receive, I was astonished when the Three publicly forgave me. Grudges lead to hostilities that a small community like ours can’t afford, Aloe explained. I try to let go of my hard feelings, too, but it’s not easy.

I think often about my night in the trees, but Peree and I don’t talk about it as I collect the water. He finally tells me the story of sheep—dim creatures that gave their wooly coats to make warm clothes for people in cold climates—but he seems more distant, making me wonder if I dreamed the moment when we touched. I want to ask Calli what she thinks, but I don’t dare.

Sable’s droning on about how the Scourge has stayed this long before; how we should remain strong and wait them out. I lean my head against the wall, and close my eyes. Even after a full night of sleep, I’m exhausted. I drift off, until I hear my name.

“Fennel can’t keep bringing us water—look at her,” a woman is saying. It’s Pinion. I can hear people twisting around to stare at me. “She’s done in! We’re on restricted rations as it is. What will we do if she can’t collect the water anymore?”

“Then I will collect the water, as I have before,” Aloe says.

“That’s only a temporary solution,” Fox says. “You’re needed on the Council, and no offense meant, but collecting water is for the young. What if the Scourge doesn’t leave this time? Pinion is right. We need a plan.”

“The Scourge has always left,” Sable says. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“But what if they don’t? Our children are hungry and dirty!” Pinion’s two-year-old daughter, Yew, whimpers by her side. Others murmur their agreement.

“They have a point,” Bear whispers. “The fleshies aren’t showing any signs of clearing out, are they?” I shake my head back and forth against the rock, my eyes still closed. “And it doesn’t sound like the Three have another plan.”

“The smell in here alone may drive us out, Scourge or no Scourge,” I mutter.

Bear snickers. The small room we use as a toileting area is sufficient for short stays, but not for a lengthy imprisonment like this. The odor’s creeping through the entire cave system; my sensitive nose has been barraged by it for days. And it’s not only the caves. Bear smells like he’s been rolling around in the fertilizer pile in the garden. I don’t want to know what I smell like.

“Don’t go near Moray, whatever you do. He stinks like a flesh-eater,” Bear says.

“Are you two getting into it again?” I ask. “Ignore him. He’s an overgrown bully.” Moray is one of Thistles' three giant sons. Cuda is another, and I can never remember the third one's name.

“Exactly. And bullies need someone to put them in their place.”

“Of course that someone’s got to be you.”

“Give me a break. It’s incredibly boring in here, I need a little excitement.”

Someone shushes us, and we quiet down in time to hear Bream say, “What about the Hidden Waters?” People murmur at that.

“The Hidden Waters are a legend,” Adder says. “We have no proof they exist.”

“Let this be the time to find proof, then.”

I sit up. The legend of the Hidden Waters is familiar to all of us. The waters are supposed to be safe—safe to drink, and safe from the Scourge. It’s said they can be found by journeying through the caves, but no one knows where or how long it might take to get to them. Groundlings have searched for the Waters before. They returned disappointed, or not at all. We pretended to search, too, as children, playing in the caves while the Scourge was here.

Adder’s laughter is harsh, like the meeting of a switch and a bare backside. “It’s a fairytale, Bream! We don’t have the slightest idea where to look for the Waters, if they exist at all.”

Fox speaks up. “If we had another source of water we could move to, then we wouldn’t be at the flesh-eaters’ mercy when they come.” Or the Lofties’, he doesn’t say. “Even if we don’t find the Hidden Waters, maybe we’ll find another source.”

“Are you volunteering to go, Fox?” Adder asks.

“Yes, if need be.”

“No, Fox–” Calli’s mother, Acacia, says.

“Who will go, then? Who will search for the Hidden Waters?” Pinion calls out, excitement in her voice.

Sable speaks. “Patience—it is no simple matter to look for the Waters. The Council must discuss the idea before any decision is made. Let us meet in private, and we will speak again this evening.”

The meeting ends, and is followed by whispered conversations in the crowd.

Bear rips into some dried meat, and talks with his mouth full. “People must be feeling desperate, to want to search for the Hidden Waters again.”

“Can’t you feel it?” I ask, listening to the low, uneasy voices around us.

“What?”

“The desperation.”

“All I feel is my empty stomach and my dry throat,” Bear complains. “Oh, sorry, Fenn. I know you’re doing your best.” He must have looked at my face.

“It’s okay.” I stand up, brushing crumbs of bread from my lap.

He grabs my arm. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” I pull away, and hear him curse under his breath.

I’m not angry with him—it’s not the first time I’ve heard someone complain of their hunger and thirst—but I’m discouraged. Despite all my efforts to stock the caves with food when the flesh-eaters aren’t here, and collect the water when they are, there isn’t enough of either. I’m weary, body and spirit, from doing my duty, while the people still suffer from deprivation. I slouch toward the passageway. No one notices when I come and go now. Except Eland.

He stops me at the entrance to the tunnel. “Here, take some bread and dried meat with you.”

“I’m not taking your ration,” I say, “and anyway, I’m not hungry.” Unlike everyone else.

“Mother’s worried about you. She said you’re losing weight.”

“You still need it more than I do.” I squeeze his hand. It’s covered in grime. “Ugh, Eland, you’re filthy. Why don’t you wash up?”

He hesitates before he answers. “No water.”

My melancholy deepens.



I trudge up the path to the clearing, six sacks of water safely ensconced in the trees. Peree follows above my head, stopping often to shoot at the most insistent of the flesh-eaters. He’s quiet again today, but the creatures aren’t. They crowd around me, shrieking and moaning in my ears. I’m too tired to react. I think about the Hidden Waters as I work—if the legend is true; where the Waters might be; if someone will search for them; and if so, who?

“Peree?” I call. “How are your people doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are they feeling?”

“Angry, afraid, wondering when the fleshies will leave.”

“Really? I guess I didn’t think the Scourge would affect you so much.” The flesh-eaters seemed kind of unimportant when I was up in the trees, like so much background noise.

“Of course we’re affected. We’re used to having water when we need it, like you are.”

“But what are you afraid of?”

“Dehydration. Becoming permanent prisoners in the trees. More Groundling fires. And you.”

I stop short, then flinch, worried the creatures will run into me. “You’re afraid of me?”

“Afraid for you, really. That the Water Bearer won’t be able to keep up this pace.”

“My people are worried about the same thing. So am I, for that matter.” I start walking along the path again, trying to stick to the shade. It’s sizzling today, even under the sprawling canopy of greenheart branches. “Have you heard of the Hidden Waters?” He says he hasn’t. “What? I finally get to tell you a story?” I tease, and then I tell him what I know. “Someone suggested we look for the Waters again,” I say in conclusion.

“And?”

“And I’m thinking about volunteering.” He doesn’t respond. “What do you think?”

He swings between walkways before answering. “I think you’ve lost your mind.”

I bristle. “Why, because I want to help my people? What if the Scourge doesn’t leave this time? What kind of future will we have if we don’t find another source of water?”

“Why does it have to be you? You already stock the caves and collect the water. Why can’t someone else do this? And I hate to point out the obvious, but your Sightlessness might be a bit of a disadvantage when you’re searching for something and don’t know where to look.”

“My Sightlessness is my only advantage! How long do you think a sighted person will last, wandering through the caves with no light and precious little sense of direction? And if the caves ever end, the fleshies will be there. What good would their sight be then?” The creatures let loose raw howls of longing and need. They repulse me. “What, do you think I want to leave my home, my family, to search for some mythical water?”

“No,” Peree says, keeping his voice even. “But I think you’d do anything, go anywhere, not to have to do this anymore.” He pauses. “I would, too, if I were you.”

My anger fizzles. He’s right.

“Promise me you’ll think this through,” he says. “What you face in the caves could be worse than the Scourge, much worse.” I don’t see how that’s possible, but I promise anyway. I’ve reached the caves, but I hesitate before going in.

“I know I don’t get a say, but I don’t like this,” Peree says.

“We have to try something."

“There has to be another way. Let me think about it. Give me a day.”

“The community’s meeting tonight to hear the Three’s decision. If I do go, I’ll probably leave tomorrow. Aloe said she would collect the water . . . so, I might not see you for a few days.” I want to tell him I’m scared. I want to tell him I’ll miss him. But of course I don’t. Coward. “Be well, Peree.” I sidle into the cave mouth.

“Fenn, please don’t go.”

To my horror I feel tears welling, so I hurry into the gloom of the tunnel. Later, I realize those were the words the hunter used as the cassowary woman flew away.



The decision is made. The Council will allow a volunteer to search for the Hidden Waters. We listen as Sable tells us what the lucky person will be in for.

“Don’t underestimate the caves. They were forged long ago by natural forces as powerful and as inevitable as time. The caves are free of the Scourge, but the cold and the lack of light can be equally unforgiving. Your torch may not last more than a few days, and the passages are deceptive. Some lead away from a cavern only to return to it, with you none the wiser. Others end, forcing you to backtrack. And still others grow smaller and smaller until you can go no further. People have been known to wander for days only to find they’ve barely journeyed beyond their starting point. And if you do find an exit, the Scourge may be there.”

“So what’s the downside?” Bear asks, to nervous chuckles.

“This is serious,” Aloe says. “If someone chooses to look for the Hidden Waters, they need to know exactly what they can expect.” I feel like she’s speaking to me, like somehow she knows what I’m contemplating.

“You must take adequate food and water, and leave a trail for yourself,” Sable continues. “It will help you if you get lost, and if the waters are found you can then make your way back quickly.”

I remember a story, from the old days, about two children who enter the dark forest, dropping bread crumbs along the path so they can find their way back home. Animals eat the crumbs, and the children become lost. Nothing edible to mark my trail, then.

“Is there a volunteer?” Adder says.

I take a deep breath and . . . Fox speaks. “I volunteer.”

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.

“Fox–” Acacia pleads.

“Daddy, don’t,” Calli says. I haven’t heard her call him Daddy since she fell off a rock and broke her wrist a few years ago.

“Someone must go,” he tells them, his voice gentle.

“But it doesn’t have to be you,” Acacia says. She sounds a lot like Peree did.

“I’m afraid they’re right, Fox. We need you here,” Aloe says.

I’m not surprised. If the Three serve as the brain of the community, Fox is our heart. His optimism and good humor is infectious, even in the cheerless caves.

“Is anyone else willing to go?” Aloe asks.

No one speaks. I stand up, my heart hammering. “I’ll go.” The crowd murmurs, sounding dubious. “I work in the caves; I’m comfortable here. I’ve spent as much time exploring them as the oldest among us. I have as good a chance of finding the Waters as any.”

Sable says, “Child, thank you for your willingness to serve the community, but you must stay and collect the water.”

“Aloe can collect the water. She said so this morning.”

“But, Fenn, how will you find your way?” Calli asks timidly. She’s not used to speaking in front of the community.

“How will anyone find their way? Like Sable said, the torches won’t stay lit forever. I’m not afraid of moving in the dark, and when the caves end I can leave without fear of the Scourge.”

“And what then? Will you smell your way to the water?” Adder asks, his voice as irritating as a bee sting.

“If I have to,” I say.

“I’ll go with Fennel,” Bear says. “I’ll serve as her eyes.”

There are several outbursts, but the voice I hear is Thistle’s. “That’s outrageous! An unpartnered boy and girl traveling together?”

Aloe says, “Thank you for offering to assist my daughter, Bear. But as her mother, I cannot allow it.”

“Better luck next time, hero,” someone mock-whispers nearby.

“Shut up, Moray,” Bear mutters.

“I’ll go with Fennel!” Eland calls out from across the room.

“No!” Aloe and I say together.

“But–”

“No!”

After a moment’s pause, I hear him sit down again. I face the community, clasping my hands together in front of me to keep from squirming.

Sable says, “Fennel, are you willing to go alone?” I nod. “Aloe, are you willing to collect the water while she’s gone?”

“I’ll do what’s needed for the community, but I’d like a word with Fennel—in private—before this is decided.”

“Of course,” Sable agrees.

“Come with me,” Aloe says.

I pick my way across the main cave, listening to the hushed conversations of the people. I can’t tell if they’re for or against the idea of me going. Maybe they’re just relieved it won’t be them. I won’t say it out loud, but Adder is right. I don’t know what I’ll do when I leave the parts of the caves I know well. I remember how vulnerable I felt in the trees, without a map in my head to move by. My chest tightens, and I swallow hard.

Aloe chooses the tunnel where I met with the Three, the night Rose and Jack died. I realize we haven’t really talked since then. When I’m not collecting water, I can usually be found curled up in a dark corner, sleeping. Aloe’s been busy with Council work, keeping the community organized while trying to dampen discontent. I have no idea if she’s still angry about my disobedience of the Council’s orders.

I follow the rhythmic sound of her stick, and stop when she does. I feel the absolute silence of the vast, black caves beyond us. It’s sobering. I brace myself for a lecture, but instead Aloe hugs me. She smells as unwashed as any of us, but underneath that I can still smell her particular scent of herbs and iron. Her hands clench my arms, reminding me how strong she is. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks.

“I’m sure.”

“Why?” She sounds curious, not challenging.

“I want to help the community however I can. If the Scourge doesn’t leave, then we may have to. We’ll need a source of water.”

“Fennel,” Aloe says in the clipped tone she uses when she’s about to call Eland out for some transgression or another, “I’m your mother. I know when you’re not telling me everything, and I want to know what it is before I agree to let you disappear alone into these caves.” She pauses. “Does this sudden desire to find the Hidden Waters have anything to do with Peree?”

I'm surprised, but I try not to show it. “No, why?”

“You spent the night in the trees with him.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Shock shoots through my belly. “How did you find out?”

Aloe chuckles. “We weren't born yesterday, child. Shrike saw you leaving the trees that morning. He questioned Peree, then informed their Council. We still have to communicate with the Lofties at times, even while we’re in the caves.”

“Why wasn’t I punished?”

“Peree explained how the flesh-eaters behaved when you fell asleep. Sable and I agreed you’d been punished enough, given the circumstances.” I notice she didn’t say Adder agreed. He probably wanted to banish me.

“Peree didn’t tell me you knew.”

“The Lofties keep their own secrets, don’t forget,” Aloe says.

“So he told them I was bitten?”

She gasps. “No, I didn’t know you were . . . are you all right? Where were you bitten?”

I touch my arm. “It didn’t break the skin. I think it’s healed now. It doesn’t hurt anymore, anyway.” I hesitate. “Did you know our protection fails when we fall asleep?”

“Of course not, or I never would have agreed to the punishment.” I feel a rush of relief, and realize I’d been wondering all this time if Aloe knowingly allowed the Three to put me in danger. “The Lofty Council told us you thought you heard one of the creatures speak, and that it sounded like . . . someone you knew.”

More relief. I’ve wanted to tell someone for days, but I didn’t want to make anything worse. “It sounded so much like Rose, but I was so tired, I couldn’t be sure. Did anything like that ever happen to you?”

Aloe doesn’t answer for a moment. “There were times when I thought I heard something that might have been words.”

“Did you tell the Council?”

“Yes. There were no secrets between us. Unlike between you and me these days.”

I hang my head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about disobeying the Council orders, and about Rose, and the bite, and staying in the trees. But since you joined the Three–” I stop, losing courage, but she waits for me to finish. “I haven’t been sure, when I talk to you, whether I’m talking to my mother, or reporting to the Council.”

She takes my hands in hers. “Fennel, I’d hoped that we’d have more time to talk after I joined the Three, and before the Scourge came. You’ve had to bear more than your share of hardship—the Scourge only stayed two days my first time collecting the water.”

I think about Aloe at my age, and wonder how much stronger than me, how much braver, she must have been.

“There are many things you need to know,” she continues, “but now isn’t the time. So I’ll say this: you’ve come to the point in your life when what’s best for you won’t always be what’s best for me, or even for the community. You must decide on the right course for yourself now. But no matter what you do, or what I do, know this—I love you, always.” She kisses the back of my hand; her chapped lips are warm against my skin. “That said, I still need to know why you have this sudden desire to search for the Hidden Waters.”

I frown. Aloe’s words confused me. I’m happy she’s not angry with me, but I’m even less sure than before how much to confide in her. What I want to tell her is that knowing Peree makes me think the Lofties may not be as terrible as we’ve been told, that maybe they’re more like us than I’ve ever imagined. And if they’re more like us, then a time might come when there won’t need to be a division between us—when we aren’t confined to the ground or the trees; when we can raise our own babies; when we can fight the Scourge side by side. A time when Peree and I might stand together as equals, not as Lofty and Groundling. But I don’t dare go so far. Those ideas would be considered scandalous.

“I want to help,” I repeat. That’s the truth, too, if not the whole truth. “Aloe, why does Adder seem to hate the Lofties so much, even more than anyone else? Why does he want to pick fights with them?”

She sighs. “He does have his reasons. Did you know he was intended once?”

I grimace, repelled by the thought of partnering with Adder. “To who?”

“Her name was Peony. She was very sweet, and the sighted raved about her beauty. She adored Adder.”

“Was she all right in the head?” I ask.

Aloe laughs again. “Adder was brave and clever, and he loved Peony. But he was reckless in those days, and he never knew when to stop his tongue. One day he was showing off for some friends, taunting a Lofty, and the Lofty shot at him. I think it was meant only as a warning. Adder jumped out of the way, and the arrow hit Peony. She died a few days later.” She taps her cane on the rock floor. “People change, Fennel, and not always for the better. Adder became increasingly bitter, more hateful toward the Lofties. I suspect he even has a prejudice against Lofty children given to us in the Exchange.”

“Well, that would explain why he seems to hate me,” I say.

“He doesn’t seem to like either of us, it’s true,” Aloe admits. “Adder can be stubborn, difficult. But he serves our community well, and he’s committed to the well-being of the people. We owe him a great deal for his service. People have faults, daughter, and we must try to forgive them as much as we can. Now, enough about the past.” Her voice is all business again. “Are you sure you understand the dangers of this search?”

I nod.

“You’ll only be able to carry about three days’ worth of drinking water. If you’ve found no sign of the Hidden Waters after two days, you must return. Promise me you will, and you have my permission to go.”

I promise her.

“Fennel, think about this while you’re gone: I can tell you have feelings for Peree, feelings of friendship, maybe more. But even if he shares your feelings, you’ll always be less than human in the eyes of his people, little better than a flesh-eater. And he’d be hardly better in the eyes of yours. Your feelings can only lead to despair.”

I nod again. I know she’s right, but a part of me—an increasingly stubborn part—wishes she wasn’t.



By morning I’m ready to go, at least physically. I have a pack stuffed with food, water, extra clothing, and a bag of herbs from Majoram in case of minor illness or injury. Eland insisted I take his warmer bedroll, and Calli gave me her extra dress for layering in the cold. Bear made sure I packed the rabbit’s foot. “Just in case,” he said.

I also have my “breadcrumbs:” a pouch stuffed with foul-smelling crampberries. I had the idea to smear them along the walls of the cave every so often as I walked. Their potent scent lasts for weeks when crushed. I should have no problem following my nose back home, and I’m pretty sure nothing will be tempted to eat the nasty things.

I’ve said my good-byes to Aloe, Eland, and Calli. Others come by to wish me luck. Bear asks if he can walk with me to the end of the first passageway. I’m surprised, but I agree. He plucks my pack off my shoulder and slings it over his own.

We walk in uncomfortable silence through the short tunnel, the crackling of his torch the only sound. I’m stiff with fear, thinking about what I’m about to do. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, and the acrid smoke makes me cough. We reach the fork in the tunnel. To the right is the cave mouth and the forest. To the left is the passage I’ll take that leads deeper into the caves, and another, mostly unused passageway that eventually opens to the outside. Bear hands me my pack.

“I wish I could go with you,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I don’t like you wandering in the caves all alone, any more than when you’re outside with . . . them.”

“I’ll be all right." I would’ve welcomed Bear’s company—any company—on my journey, but I wonder how he would’ve managed in the ceaseless dark of the caves, after the torch went out.

“I know you can handle yourself. It’s me. I want to protect you. Do you remember during the fever a few years ago, when I was so sick?” It would be hard to forget the fever. Many people died, and almost everyone else fell ill. I was one of the fortunate ones who recovered quickly. “You mended my shirt, and stitched a bear on it to help me feel better.”

I laugh nervously. “I remember. You said it looked like a fleshie. I think that was the last time I was asked to help with the mending. I was terrible.”

“I only said that because I was afraid, afraid you’d be able to tell how much I liked it. How much I liked you. I wore out that shirt years ago, but I kept the bear you stitched.” He puts a piece of fabric in my hand. “Here it is. I want you to take it, since I can’t go with you.” He speaks quickly now. “I wish I could’ve danced with you at the Solstice. I’d been planning to ask you all year, did you know?”

My stomach clenches. “No, I didn’t.”

“If the fleshies hadn’t come, would you have danced with me?”

I don’t know how to answer him. The Summer Solstice feels like one of my dreams, not real life. Real life now is the Scourge, hunger and thirst, uncertainty. I can’t tell him the truth—that I’d chosen to ask a Lofty to dance. But the truth is I’ll never dance with a Lofty, because Groundlings and Lofties don’t dance together. Peree said so himself. So I say what Bear wants to hear.

“Yes, I would have.”

I’m totally unprepared when he pulls me to him and presses his mouth hard against mine. His cracked lips sweep across my forehead and cheeks, and he kisses my lips again, gently this time. Then he’s gone.

I lean against the wall in the inky blackness, trying to catch my breath, and a hand clamps over my mouth.