We hike for about an hour; my breath is shallow, thanks to the altitude, but it’s a good tired. During our walk, I ply him with questions, just like old times. “This earthquake you’re going to set off today—”
He cuts me off. “It’s small. Hardly anything worth getting out of bed over. Just enough to give you wiggle room to drag a freaking mountain range around.”
I hold my hands out—in my palms lies a small screen that shows me, monstrously proportioned and standing in the Indian Ocean, literally shoving the country under the Himalayas.
Karl squints down at it. “Where am I? Where’s my mighty fist, shaking the world?”
An unladylike snort escapes me as I insert him into the scene, smaller than me but gifted with a fist larger than his body.
“That’s more like it.”
I grin up at him. “You should give it to Em. Let her know just how awesome her godmother is.”
He rolls his eyes but shoves it into his backpack anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, Karl’s compass tells us we’re in the right spot. No one else is around—the air is thin and cool, the wind sharp through the trees, the only sounds around those of birds and their wings soft upon the skies. I scan around us, marveling at the majestic beauty of the Himalayas rising through the clouds.
“Ready?” Karl asks.
I nod and find myself a strong tree to brace against. Karl squats down next to a crop of gray, weathered rocks and smoothes a clean circle of leaves and debris in the dirt below him. I watch in fascination at how he treats the moments before he works with reverence, like he knows just how heavy the weight of his actions are. That he ensures they come from the right place, with the best of intentions, no matter how large or small they are.
I am lucky to have him as my mentor.
Karl closes his eyes and lets out a breath; when they open, his hand, inches now from the target he’s created, clenches shut. Those hands of his are weapons of the worst kind. If he was to hit a person, he could shatter bones into shards. But I’ve seen him with his daughter, holding her close and wiping away tears. I’ve seen those hands offer me tissues when I broke down and pull his wife in for a hug when she outbakes him in a cook-off.
In the grand course of life, they’re good hands.
His fist taps the ground, just once. A small ripple radiates out, pressing me back against rough bark. I wait until my foot falls easily forward and then, mimicking his reverence, I give appreciation to the land around me. I whisper, “Thank you,” before I urge it, oh so slowly and gently, to lay to rest under the giant in front of us.
A half-hour from the village, Karl lets loose a string of curses under his breath. One of his arms whips out to block me from moving forward.
We’re the only people on the trail. A bird screams above us. “What’s going on?”
His head drops close to mine, his voice tense against my ear. “You don’t hear it?”
I do now. Another scream, only it’s not a bird.
Karl pulls out his cell phone, fingers flying across the keypad. An answer beeps in response just as another shriek sounds in the distance. The screen tilted in my direction tells me: 40 min out. Get ready.
I scan the area. Woods, rocks, patches of snow, and dirt surround us. Another scream bursts through the trees, rattling my teeth.
Adrenaline floods my blood stream. I’ve been on probably thirty missions in the three months since being attacked on the Elvin plane, and things have been calm. Why do I keep letting myself getting lulled into complacency by these things?
Like rats, or influenza, the Elders always. Come. Back.
We take off at a sprint, barreling down the uneven path. The keening behind us ebbs and swells, making it impossible to pinpoint which direction they’ll strike from. Sometimes I swear they’re coming from my right, then my left, and other times directly behind me. It’s disorienting, but I shadow Karl closely, believing wholeheartedly he’ll get us back to the village in time for Raul to swoop in and fly us away.
I can’t allow myself to think of any other ending.
Out of nowhere, Karl goes soaring to the left, enveloped by a swath of darkness. I skid to a halt so quickly I topple into the dirt and gravel, ripping up my knees through newly ragged denim. But as painful as this is, I’m glad, because an Elder streaks inches above my head.