I HOPPED DOWN from the wagon and moved ahead of the group, eager to rest my eyes on Luna again and assure myself she was well. I ignored the parts of me that felt chewed up by a meat grinder. A little salve on my wounds, a night’s rest, and I’d be fine and ready to go. My ankle was still tender from where that creature had nearly snapped the bone before I managed to saw through the tentacle and free myself.
The sooner we left this place behind the better. I would not be going out on the lake again. I’d take what kelp I had earned, and put this place behind me.
My gaze scanned the mist-shrouded ground. The forest stirred, everything coming to life while the dwellers were at rest. My gaze drifted up to the city in the trees. I waited impatiently as the lift descended for us, shifting on my feet. Leaving Luna this long ate at me. I would never do it again.
I was the first to hop inside the lift. Glagos stepped on with me, waving away the boy who had stood with us on the boat for the last twenty-four hours, tossing down remarks that were of little help as I hacked at kelp and fought off all manner of creatures hungry for a taste of me.
I had almost died out there. Glagos knew that. His cold stare made that much clear. He just didn’t care.
“How many die out there?” I asked mildly.
He shrugged. “You made it and gathered a nice amount of kelp in the process. We could use you here.”
“I’m sure you could.” My lips curled. He’d happily let me continue risking my neck for them. “I did what you asked. I’m taking my supplies and leaving.”
He waved a hand, cutting through the milky air. “You might want to reconsider. Alone out there . . . is it so much better than staying here?”
With Luna it was impossible to stay here. I shook my head.
He shrugged. “Fine. There are others to take your place. Drifters come through here all the time.” And I was sure many stayed here, buried at the bottom of that lake, bones picked clean.
The lift stopped at the top with a jar, the chains jangling and clinking. I stepped out onto the landing. My clothes stuck to my wounds, the dried and crusted blood tugging on the torn flesh with every movement. Peeling the clothes from my body was going to be unpleasant.
I spotted Mirelya standing among the small crowd that had assembled to greet all those returning from the boats.
She started toward me, her cane ringing out with each strike on the wood. Her gaze darted down once, almost guiltily, before meeting my eyes. Her color was poor, too. Something was wrong. I knew it with one sweep of my gaze.
I reached her in two strides and leaned down to her hunkered and bent frame, speaking in a low voice. “Mirelya, what is it? Where is—”
“She’s gone,” she whispered for my ears alone.
“She left the village?” I went cold. Had she left without me? Was she heading to Relhok City?
A memory assailed me. I’d fought so hard to forget it, but suddenly it was upon me.
Two years ago, after leaving Relhok, I’d gone south, knowing that I wouldn’t be looked for there. The dwellers had ravaged the south. It was rumored no town or city stood intact. My father wouldn’t think to hunt for me there.
I had no purpose then. I had not yet decided to go to Allu. That had been Bethan’s dream. It could not be mine.
I found a village. There wasn’t much left of Edmon. Just a few cottages that surrounded a stone mill at the edge of a loch. The remaining villagers lived inside its stone walls, sleeping on straw pallets, waiting listlessly in the dark for death to come.
Not living, merely surviving. Foraging during midlight for scraps. Eating bugs and vermin. There had been a boy. Only nine years old. Donnan always wanted to join me, but I made him stay behind when I left to hunt or forage. One day he followed me.
I turned back when I heard his screams, but I was too late. By the time I caught up to him, there was nothing left that resembled the boy. I failed him like I had Bethan. Like I was failing Luna.
No. Not again.
“A man came . . . carried a reeking bag of heads.” Mirelya’s fingers dug like claws into my arm. “He was looking for you both. He knew she was there. He knew she wasn’t a boy.”
My voice shook out of me. “He took her?”
“No. She fled. He chased her through the village.” She pointed to the trees that crowded the edge of the lift. “She made her way down. She’s out there—”
The words had barely left her mouth before I was back in the lift, catching it before it descended to pick up the rest of the men. I paced the small lift space, scanning the countryside as I traveled back down, craning my neck and peering into the cloudy midlight air.