“You better hope that’s not true. For both our sakes. I can’t afford to be soft. Stop asking it of me.” He strode away, his purposeful strides biting into the soft ground.
I sucked in a cold breath and followed after him. “He didn’t deserve to die alone.”
“We all die alone, Luna.”
It was a bleak thought that chased me as we continued on our way.
TWENTY
Fowler
WE WALKED FOR hours, staying close to the edge of the copse until we had to break out across barren landscape again. Wind buffeted us, cutting like knives on our exposed skin. I dug in my pack and gave her a scarf to wrap around her neck and cover her chin.
Finally, in the far distance a grove of trees appeared. Twisted, ghostly shapes, they stood in perfect symmetry. A long-ago orchard, the branches cracked like old bones, stripped of leaves and whatever fruit used to grow there. I led us in that direction, eager to leave behind the overexposed grassland and give us some relief from the bitter wind.
Once we stepped inside the orchard’s maze, I could see it was vast with rows and rows of trees.
As we moved down one intersecting path, the trees arching overhead, she asked, “What is this place? The trees grow very precisely every few feet without fail.” She inched toward one of the blackened trunks, pressing her palm against the tough skin, testing its texture.
“They were planted that way. It’s an orchard.” I flicked my gaze over one gnarled-up tree that I passed. “Was an orchard.”
She hurried to catch up. “What kind of—”
“It’s impossible to identify anymore. They’re dead.”
She held silent after that. Now that our steps fell quieter, I moved at a faster pace, on direct course for Ortley.
There were places like Ortley that had managed to cling to life. I’d passed through a few of them since I left Relhok City. Those pockets of civilization were like that dead field of sugarcane behind us, rotting, withered echoes of the past, still fighting for their last breath even after all these years. Disease, famine, or dwellers still infiltrated, but the inhabitants managed to hang on, growing smaller and weaker after every invasion.
Not Allu though. Miles off the coastline, the island was free of dwellers and close enough to reach by boat. Its surrounding waters yielded plenty of bounty to eat. I just had to cross a continent to reach it. And I had to do it with her.
I glanced back again to catch her wringing out the edge of her tunic. Water dripped free. When she released the fabric, it unfurled, wrinkled beyond repair.
I scanned the horizon and faced forward again, thinking of our destination. Ortley was one of the only cities east of Relhok still standing. I’d heard of it all my life.
The village was reportedly fortified. Much like Relhok City, there was a population that had managed to survive the dwellers better than most. On occasion, merchants from Relhok traveled there to trade. Of the countless men the king sent over the years, a few returned. A type of kelp grew in the lake outside the once prosperous city. It contained healing properties useful when brewed. It could also be cooked into a soup, which was always convenient when you were on the brink of starvation.
I walked steadily down one of the several paths that crisscrossed the orchard. That kelp, along with other supplies, would be useful to acquire for the rest of our journey.
Food mattered. Weapons. Labor and skills. Those were things to trade. I could offer my services and work for a few days. It wouldn’t be the first time. It was a long journey to Allu. A few days’ sweating for some supplies would be worthwhile.
I glanced back at Luna, uncertain whether she would agree with my plan. If I worked, I would have to find something to do with her during that time. I was sure suitable work could be found for her, too. She had her uses. Like saving my life. And her hearing was better than my own.
She stopped, her head tilting, chin lifting in that way of hers that signaled she heard something even now.
I moved to her side and stopped.
A nearby bird trilled in the distance, so I didn’t think any dwellers were close. They always fell silent when those creatures were wandering in the vicinity.
I touched her elbow. “What?” I released the word into her ear, a mere sigh. A gust of breath that I knew she could hear.
“It’s not dwellers,” she murmured, precisely what I already knew. Her smooth brow creased as though she was trying to make sense of the sound, a reminder that her experiences were limited.
She lowered her face, her expression scrunching up in frustration. She pressed fingertips to her forehead. “Something else is out there.” Her nostrils flared. “Rotten and sour. Like death.” The faintest tremor shook her voice as she said this.
I studied her pale face, the slim slope of her nose and rounded cheeks so smooth and unblemished, free from exposure to the elements.
Then I heard it.