*
WE WORK FAST. KIRAN builds a small fire beside a nearby brook—not enough to bring the Trackers this way yet, but enough to heat a tin cup of water from his pack. I take the remaining stalks of dried bloodroot from my solitary-yard plastic bottle and grind them to a powder between two rocks. When the water is steaming, I sift the contents in.
Kiran’s taken the arrow and tucked it in his belt. He’s agreed to shoot me himself, though he hardly seems thrilled at the opportunity. I don’t blame him. I’m not looking forward to it either.
The unspoken truth lies between us. If Kiran’s aim is off, the arrow could pierce something vital and kill me on the spot. The Trackers could do any number of things to my body to assure I’m dead. And even if everything goes as planned and they do leave me, I might never wake up again.
“Kiran.” I cough. My throat’s so tight it’s hard to talk. “If it’s not too much trouble, maybe you can check in on Daphne and the twins from time to time.”
He doesn’t look up.
“You and Daphne and the twins,” he grumbles. “You’ll be there with them.”
Dell lifts her head, snorting the air. They’re getting close. We don’t have much time.
“Please say yes,” I say.
He rubs a hand down his face. And then he gives a nod, and my heart breaks a little.
I mix the drink with my finger and swallow it in one chug. It scalds my tongue and throat and tastes so bitter I nearly gag.
“There,” I say. It’s begun. There’s no going back now. Kiran grunts and doesn’t look up. He hasn’t looked at me once since committing to this plan.
He feeds the fire from a pile of dry pine needles, and a plume of white smoke rises into the afternoon sky. I stand, and then blink and grab onto Dell’s saddle while the forest spins around me.
“You took enough, right? You won’t feel much?” Kiran asks. He’s tapping an arrow against his thigh.
“I took twice as much as I gave you,” I say. My head feels very heavy. The fire is bright orange and draws my stare. It’s so beautiful. I shake my head to clear it.
“Oh. That’s good, I guess,” Kiran says.
“Too much is definitely not good.” Some part of me knows I shouldn’t keep on, but I can’t seem to stop myself now. Kiran doubles before me, and I reach out to try to figure out which one is real.
He grabs my outstretched hand, and soon his arm is around my waist, holding me upright.
“Oops,” I say. “We’re almost dancing.” I bump his hip with mine and smile, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s funny.
“Why? Why isn’t it good?”
“Well, we gave it to my ma when the fever hit. It helped her die.”
“Are you joking?” He grips my waist tighter. It makes me giggle.
“I’m not a very good joker,” I admit. He knows this. I don’t know why I have to tell him.
Dell begins to prance, and Kiran turns away. In the distance, I can already hear the steady cracking of twigs and dead leaves on the forest floor.
The Trackers are coming.
“You’d better do it,” I say. “Wait a second. I want to close my eyes.”
He’s staring at me, pain in his river-stone gaze. He doesn’t want to do this anymore, and like something from a different life, I remember how it felt the night I asked him to help me earn a Virulent mark in the solitary yard.
“Gimme the arrow,” I say. He’d better hurry up with it, because I might just accidently stick something important if we wait much longer.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
“Wait!” I say, almost having forgotten what I needed to tell him. He jerks forward, grasping my elbows for support.
“You’ve got to make sure they made it. The twins. You’ll do that right?”
His face falls. “I’ll do it. We both will.”
“Even if I don’t make it. You’ll make sure, right?”
“Yes.”
“And Kiran?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let them take me.” I don’t have much time left. I can barely see him through the darkness. But it’s only afternoon, it shouldn’t be dark yet.… Why does Kiran look so sad? I don’t like that look at all.
“I won’t let them take you,” he says.
“You know what to do, right? If they take me?”
I can’t go back to the city again. I won’t make it out once they bring me to the mayor’s house. I take the arrow he’s notched in his bow and aim it towards my heart, showing him what I mean for him to do. The tea is so strong it makes my hands clumsy, and the metal arrow nicks my finger. I wince, and he swears and pulls back the bow.
“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt,” he says, more to himself than me.
“Thank you,” I say. “For helping me out of the Garden. And for singing Brax’s soul. And for telling me about my father. If I die, I’ll remember you in my next life and all the lives after. I won’t ever forget you.”
I’m not scared anymore. Not of anything. Not even of dying. A flush of relief fills me as I realize my ma might not have been afraid either. It makes the cold seeping over my body more bearable.
Kiran’s finger brushes my scarred earlobe again, just as it did the night he returned. Time seems to pause. Though I’ve fought it all my life, maybe someone—Kiran—does own me. Pieces of me. Moments with me. Maybe I own him too, in those same scattered pieces. And maybe it’s only the buzzing in my head, but this suddenly doesn’t seem terrible at all.
The Trackers are getting closer. The ground has begun to tremble beneath their hoofbeats.
Kiran backs up, one step at a time, until he’s fifteen paces away. There are tears running down his face. I widen my stance to hold as steady as I can and pinch my eyes closed.
“Goodbye,” I whisper, just in case.
Nothing happens. I blink my eyes open again and there is Kiran, aiming the arrow at my chest, but unable to release the twine.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m not scared.”
He lowers the bow and in a flash picks up a stone off the ground and heaves it with all his might into a tree behind him. I can hear the air release from his lungs in one hard whoosh.
And then he spins back, lifts the bow, and fires.
I feel the pressure first, like a dull branch prodding my right shoulder. It shoves so hard against me that I’m knocked off my feet and land on my back beside the fire. When I turn my head I see the narrow rod rising from my skin. It’s in that moment, between the shock and the fear, that I think of Deer in my ma’s old story and wonder if this was the last thing he saw before Mother Hawk took his soul.
The pain comes a moment later, stabbing into my shoulder and sending bolts across my chest. It’s worse than the wire, worse than a Watcher beating. I can’t move. I’m pinned to the ground.
I can’t even remember how I got here.
I hear a crashing through the darkness above, beyond, surrounding me. Hooves striking the ground somewhere close. Someone’s here. Is it Kiran? Where is Kiran?
“Found her!” someone yells. The gritty sound echoes in my head.
“He won’t be happy,” groans another.
I close my eyes and see my ma. Her long, dark hair hanging in tight ringlets to her hips. The mark on her cheek that warps when she smiles.
“Aya.” She still sounds the same when she says my name, as though she’s never been gone. She sits on the ground beside me, cradles my head in her lap and sings my soul away. Her fingers are warm, skimming across my forehead. And Brax is here too. Licking my face. Snuggling into the crook in my arm. Here there is no blood, no fever, no grief. Here there is only peace.
I’ve fought well, just like my ma taught me. Just like I was supposed to do. It finally feels all right to let go, and when I do, I can breathe. It feels like the first time in years that I’ve really breathed. Everything is okay now. Everyone is safe. I am free.
I’ve got the glass arrow.
It protrudes from my shoulder, wavering the slightest bit, and shining in the firelight. The blood of my life seeps from it, blossoming on my Driver shirt, soaking into the ground.
My sacrifice will allow my family to live.
I am filled with joy.