She risked a quick look over her shoulder and saw the Wildlings silently wading behind her, faces illuminated by the fireflies they held in their palms. Their bonded were with them, swimming alongside, flying above, or watching from the thin strips of bare land at their sides.
One of them caught her eye, and she whipped back around. Her head was beginning to itch. She scratched just below the crown of flowers her people had made her for the occasion—purple larkspur, in honor of her ancestor, Lark Crown, one of the three original creators of Lightlark. She had spent hours sitting still as her people made bracelets down her arms from the rare varieties of larkspur, its color so concentrated, it stained parts of her skin purple, an honor reserved for a ruler. It was a valiant color. The color of a leader and warrior.
Isla didn’t feel like either as she carefully stepped across the muddy ground, wincing anytime her foot sank too deep or connected with something solid. She was so focused on stepping around a strange clump of rocks that it took her a while to notice the wading behind her had all but quieted.
She turned to see the Wildlings were retreating, the light of their fireflies getting dimmer and dimmer.
Only Wren approached. “This is where we leave you,” she said. Perhaps it was Isla’s eyes widening, but Wren seemed to sense she needed more instruction. Her head dipped low. Her tone was sharp. “You don’t come back until the morning. You don’t come back without a bonded.” Isla swallowed. What if none of the creatures wanted her? Wren handed her a bow and a single arrow.
“What is this for?”
“It’s tradition, for a ruler’s hunt for their bonded. For the rest of us, we simply must catch our animals, to show our worthiness. Rulers must put an arrow through theirs.” Wren’s eyes darted around nervously, and that’s when Isla’s stomach began to sink in earnest. The Wildling looked afraid.
Of what?
“I thought—I thought you said the creature chooses me.”
“It does,” Wren explained. “The creatures out here . . . if you’re able to wound one . . . it’s because it allows you to.”
Isla took the bow and single arrow with trembling fingers. As soon as they were out of her hands, Wren gave a sharp nod, then began to hurry away, toward the others.
She watched them go, her confidence shrinking along with their silhouettes, until she couldn’t see them anymore.
With a shaking breath, she turned around to face the heart of the swamp.
The swamp turned back to forest, though none of it was familiar.
She climbed out of the water and stilled—the trees lining the marsh . . . they were in the shape of people. Their arms made up the main branches, green sprouted from the crowns of their heads, their bodies formed the trunks, and their legs, the exposed roots that went straight into the dark water. They were frozen in strange movements, their faces carved into the wood. Some had mouths stretched far too wide, like they had been screaming.
Isla swallowed and kept moving. Wren had been clear. She couldn’t return without a bonded. It would make her look weak, unworthy of ruling her realm.
The forest was quiet. She walked until she reached a massive tree that had tipped over on its side. Its branches were large enough to be entire pathways, rising into the air, going as far as she could see. They were covered in a thin layer of moss. She jumped, gripping the soft edge with her fingers, then pulled the rest of her body onto the lowest one. With a quick assessment of her surroundings, she followed the path, into the core of the tree.
It was far too silent. Isla had the uncomfortable feeling that there were eyes everywhere, watching her, yet every time she turned around, she was alone.
Alone. No one understood her, not really. Oro tried, he really did, but there were parts of her she would never let him see.
She wondered if a bonded animal would be able to sense every aspect of her—the good and the bad. The potential. The idea of someone or something seeing her for what she could be, instead of what she was . . .
Or maybe the creatures of the forest had already assessed her, and rejected her, just like the vault. It wasn’t enough for her to feel the connection. According to Wren, the animal decided.
For now, it seemed, they had decided against her.
A rustle, and she turned to find herself facing a wolf, covered in moss and greenery instead of fur. Its tail was made of long reeds. Isla raised her arrow. Hope built in her chest. The wolf wasn’t large, but at least it was something.
Before she could let her arrow loose, the wolf was gone.
Her fingers curled painfully around the bow. Slow, she had been too slow. Is that why it had run away?
What if she didn’t see another creature?
Moments later, she realized that wouldn’t be an issue. A spider with legs as tall as trees walked by, its body casting a thick shadow around her. Isla didn’t even raise her weapon. The spider was massive, but she felt no connection to the creature whatsoever.
She just needed to keep going, she told herself. There was a bonded for her here. She just needed to find it.
Her bare feet were soundless against the moss of the branch. Tiny flowers bloomed with her every step, painting the greenery. The occasional bird swooped down to study her, before flying away. She walked down the path as it curved into a forest floor shaded by a massive canopy of treetops. A giant rib cage greeted her, with flowers growing out of its bones—the remains of a creature so large, she couldn’t even imagine what it had looked like alive.
Just then, a stag with branches for horns stepped into her path. It stared at her, tilting its head in wonder.
It was beautiful. Something in her chest thrummed to life as if welcoming the connection. She slowly raised her bow, clicked her arrow into place—
The stag stepped toward her, then froze. Its eyes focused on a place behind her. It shuffled back in fear.
What was—
A deafening roar shook the trees at her sides. Birds flew away, in the opposite direction. Hot breath heated her body as she was covered in spit.
Slowly, arrow still raised, Isla turned around and looked up. And up. And up.
A giant bear stood on its two feet, with a crown of horns that could skewer her in a moment.
Was this her creature? It would certainly mark her as a strong ruler. Isla released the arrow, trying her chance, but the bear knocked it away with a paw, breaking the wood in two.
Her only arrow, gone.
Isla wasn’t thinking about the fact that she wouldn’t be able to find a bonded now. Panic had taken over. She dropped the bow. The bear roared again, getting close to blowing out her hearing, and Isla realized why Wren had seemed so intent on leaving the swamp.
Venturing to this area of the newland was a risk. Her people were endangering their own lives by letting her complete the ceremony.
This was the first step in them trusting her, she realized. A leap of faith. They believed she was strong enough to survive it.
So, she would.
The bear was too large, there was no hope in outrunning it. Just as it reached back its clawed hand to rip her to ribbons, she darted between its feet and ran up into the treetops. The bear couldn’t climb; it was too heavy, it would break the branches. That was what she told herself as she climbed as fast as ever, purple rings of flowers down her arms seeming to glow in the dark.
She scurried up, higher and higher, and risked a look behind—
Only to see the bear’s horns inches away, as it climbed after her.
Nature. She was in nature. Her heart was beating too wildly to form a connection to the woods the way she had before. She gritted her teeth, trying to focus. Her arm shot out, and she managed to make a few smaller branches fall in the bear’s path, but it did nothing to slow it down.
She needed to break the branches below the bear. That way, it would fall through the treetops. She threw her powers out, but panic had clouded her mind, weakening her hold on her abilities. The branches creaked but did not crack.