“So give this magic arrow to me,” she says after a while. “I’ll shoot you and eat you.”
Daphne doesn’t get it. She wouldn’t. She knows nothing about sacrifice.
She’s quiet, but just when I think she’s fallen asleep, she speaks.
“I wish I was ten years old again.”
“Me too,” I say before I think about it.
“Everything’s wrong out here. Even the sky. It’s like … there are holes in it. Bright spots.”
“They’re called stars.” Pity softens my words. I can’t believe she’s never seen stars on a clear night.
“Why do they do that?” She fans her fingers to represent the glow. “It can’t be normal.”
I take a slow breath. “My ma said they were the souls of those who have passed, waiting to return to their new forms.” I eye her through my lashes, wondering how she will attempt to make me feel foolish.
She’s staring at me. “Your birth mother? Not a Keeper?”
I nod.
“You think she’s one of…” She points to the sky.
Unsure how to answer, I only shrug. Sometimes I think she’s up there. Watching. Waiting to return. Sometimes I think she’s already back in her new body, spreading her wings and soaring over the mountaintops, free from disease and the hunters. Free from me.
Sometimes I wonder if her stories were always just stories, and she is part of the earth, nothing more.
Silence. Daphne is looking back up at the sky.
“It’s kind of pretty I guess.”
I want to tell her I think so too, but she’s already asleep.
*
NIGHT COMES AND KIRAN’S fever rages on.
So I pray.
Really pray, for the first time in weeks. Inside, I am empty, and the song does not come easy, but I do it anyway. For Kiran. For myself. Because I can’t do this by myself, and Mother Hawk is the only one who can help him now.
I sing into the night, and as Kiran begins to shiver, I press my forehead into his chest, and weep.
“Please wake up.”
As if in answer, he rouses suddenly and stares straight into my face.
“It dudn’t work. The songs,” he says. I am off my knees before he finishes the thought, already pouring more water into his mouth. He sputters, jaw working as if I’ve offered sludge.
I try to keep him quiet, but he keeps talking.
“I used to sing, too. Long time ago. But no one could fix her.”
I want to ask who he means and what happened, but he’s blinking fast, fighting to stay awake.
“Quiet now,” I tell him.
“Diyou cud me?” he slurs.
“I had to take off the infection.” I don’t ask if it hurts; the pain is sharp in his eyes. “You need to rest.”
“I dream of you, Aya bird,” he says. And then he’s out.
When I turn back around, Daphne’s standing behind me. The smile I hadn’t known I’d been wearing fades immediately. She sits back down, giving me a strange look, and stares back up at the sky.
*
KIRAN TAKES A TURN for the worst just before dawn.
His unseeing eyes stretch open, and the sweat soaks through his clothing. The fever dreams take him. He begins to say a woman’s name: Kyna. With a pang to my heart I wonder if he loves her—the hint of a smile dawns on his mouth when he says the word. He tells her not to worry. He’ll come back.
I mop his brow and force more water down his throat. I change his dressing and apply a new poultice. I talk to him, remembering how Metea said this soothed my ma when she was having visions. I tell him all the best lies: that we’re safe, free, fat and happy.
Just as the red dawn is breaking, he sits bolt upright, staring at something behind me in the bushes. His breath grows shallower and his limbs are wild as I force him back down.
My heart twists. My face is wet with tears.
Kiran is dying.
I squeeze his hand, sending all my strength down his arm. I don’t even know if he can feel me near.
“What’s happening?” asks Daphne.
“I don’t know what else to do!” My cry doesn’t distract Kiran from muttering something else I can’t make out. “I can’t fix him. I’m not a doctor. He might be dead by the time we get him to a town.”
Every part of my body has grown tight in my desperation. I am failing Kiran. I have failed my entire family.
Daphne grows very quiet.
“Kyna needs a doctor,” Kiran says. I can’t tell if he’s mimicking me, or if he’s talking to spirits. I clap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, but his words have sparked something inside me.
“Where is the doctor?” I demand. “Where?”
“Three … three rivers crossing.”
I ask him where, but the answer is already waiting. I know a place, not far from my mountain, where three rivers collide. I could see it on the clearest days from the meadows near our camp. Is it possible Kiran and I have lived only a valley away our whole lives?
“Do you remember the snowy peaks above our home?” I ask, pretending to be Kyna, the person he keeps talking to.
“I’ll carry you to the top,” he mumbles. He’s jostling from side to side, and fresh blood breaks through his bandages. I hold him down.
“Do you think his people have a doctor?” Daphne asks.
“Be still,” I beg him, laying my body across his.
I can’t leave Kiran. He doesn’t deserve to die alone. And my mountain is still a day’s ride away, which means his camp is at least double that. I could run or ride Dell, but that would leave Kiran and Daphne defenseless if the Trackers return. The woods are dangerous enough anyway, the bear already proved that. And anyhow, what if I find a doctor, and by the time we return, Kiran’s already dead?
“Stop it,” Daphne tells me, worrysick.
I grind to a halt, realizing that in Kiran’s calm, I’ve risen and begun pacing, tugging on my hair and talking to myself.
“I’m going,” I say.
If there’s a chance that his people can help, I have to find them. If not, I will find Kyna, and bring her back to comfort him.
Or bury him.
I can’t think that way. I don’t have enough time to dwell. These next moments are too precious to waste.
“I’m going too, then,” Daphne says.
“You have to stay with Kiran.”
“Wait,” she says. “Clover, no.”
“I think I know where his people live. It’s near my camp. I’m going to find my family and bring back a doctor.”
“He doesn’t love you!”
I’d been reaching for my bottle of supplies, but stop abruptly at her words. She’s staring at me, arms outstretched, green eyes sharp.
“He loves Kyna. Not you. Don’t kid yourself that if you save him, he’ll choose you.”
I stand perfectly straight, and focus hard on controlling my voice so it doesn’t shake.
“There are bigger things in life than being chosen.”
I’m grateful for her sulk then, because it gives me the time I need to grind the dried bloodroot that I’d gathered so long ago in the solitary yard. Of the three stems I have, I only use one. I need Kiran to sleep so that his body can heal. I’m going to knock him out so that he stops twisting open his wounds.
I go over how much I need. Too little won’t touch his pain. Too much will kill him.
Oh please don’t let me kill him.