Firewalker

Carrick could guess who had set the fire. Lily and her tribe must have needed to fight something. Something huge.

Rowan was ahead of him—out of direct sight—but not so far away that Carrick couldn’t clearly distinguish his brother’s track lying directly over Lily’s. After maintaining a nearly inhuman pace, Rowan had caught up with her. He’d pushed himself over the mountains and across the plains with what seemed to Carrick to be a suicidal single-mindedness and now Rowan was only a few hours behind Lily and her tribe. Carrick was only a few hours behind Rowan and his endurance was at its limits.

Carrick stood in his stirrups, trying to see what enemy could be dire enough that Lily’s tribe would risk a prairie fire to stop it. All he could see was smoke rimming the horizon, and the air rippling like water over the grass.

He saw a figure detach itself from the heat-haze. It wasn’t the front line of the stampeding herd yet, although that was sure to be coming soon. It was Rowan, riding like hell, and heading straight for him. Carrick pulled up on the reins and wheeled his horse around. The horse was smart enough to not need any whipping, and reached a flat-out run in a matter of seconds.

Glancing over his shoulder wouldn’t help, Carrick knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself. Rowan was gaining him, but the stampede was gaining on Rowan. The ground shook as if to break. The pounding filled the air like a solid wall of noise—something felt as much as heard. Carrick’s insides rattled against his bones, and his teeth clacked in his head as the horse under him galloped in panic. The pounding in the ground was joined by a strange buzzing in the air. Carrick glanced back again and nearly lost his seat. He eased back on the reins and tried to control his frenzied mount.

There were things in the air above Rowan. Flying things that Carrick had never seen before, but he could guess what they were from the stories his father had told him.

The Hive.

Rowan slashed at the air with one arm and clung to his horse’s reins with the other, trying to fight off the Warrior Sisters who harried him from above. Carrick turned to face forward in his saddle and let the reins go with a terror that bordered on blindness.

First he felt the buzzing of the Workers’ wings on the back of his neck, and then two pairs of impossibly strong hands grabbed his arms and tore him from his horse’s back. Carrick didn’t know if he screamed or not as the Sisters hauled him up into the air. The ground shrank away from him, his neck wrenching painfully as he was jerked into the sky. He tried to right himself, but the force of the Sisters’ ascent was too much to fight.

Staring down as the ground rushed away from him, Carrick saw the green grass beneath him turn into a sea of ruddy brown bodies as the herd of buffalo swept across the plain. Dust rose up in great plumes bearing the smell of churned earth, blood, and musky hide. Smoke from the fire joined the dust to blot out the sun. The Sisters flew him west through the murky air. The thunder of the stampede was drowned out by the buzzing of the Hive all around him as they flew.

Out of the corner of Carrick’s eye he saw Rowan’s body dangling between two Sisters. Rowan’s eyes were shut and his body was limp. Carrick couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.

*

The smell of flowers was all around her.

Lily opened her eyes and saw green stems and bright blossoms waving gently in the breeze. Her raw skin was smeared with ash and her clothes were singed tatters, clinging to the dried scabs on her body. She wondered how long she had been unconscious. She saw that her burns were already healing somewhat. Had it been a whole day? Two days?

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