Fire Country

The only thing that’s certain: the Glassies’ll be back. And the next time we won’t have a sandstorm to save us.

Lara’s more excited ’bout the whole thing’n I am. It’s been a full moon since it happened and she’s still going on and on like it was yesterday.

“It was like fate, Sie,” she says.

I got too much on my mind to be excited about much of anything. I turned sixteen yesterday, which is just my luck. If I’d been born a little over a full moon later, I coulda turned sixteen and then waited six full moons ’fore the next Call. Instead, my Call’ll be at the next full moon.

“It was stupid, is what it was,” I say.

“Come on, you know that’s not true. There was a buzz ru

“Thanks for the reminder,” I say.

“Would you have used that knife on one of the Glassies if that storm didn’t hit?” she asks.

“I ain’t talking ’bout this,” I say, scooping a shovelful of blaze. I was daydreaming in Learning again. Lara agreed to keep me company while I sweat it out.

“I would have,” she says from the edge of the pit. She’s perched like a raven on a prickler bough. “I would’ve jumped on a chariot, stuck my blade right between one of their ribs.”

“They woulda shot you with those fire sticks first,” I say.

“I would’ve been too fast,” she says. “Just a blur. Sear that sandstorm for wasting our big chance!”

I drop my shovel in a pile of blaze, glare at her. “You know what? You’re wooloo! Completely out of your mind, one hundred percent, grade-A tug wooloo.” She stares at me, but I’m not done. I’m too hot, too tired, too searin’ broken after Circ. “There’s a wooloo farm with your name on it. I think when you got all that muscle you lost half your brain. No, more’n half. Three quarters. You woulda died out there, just like me. That sandstorm saved both of our worthless, Pre-Bearer lives, and you know it!”

When I finally finish my rant, I’m breathing heavy and my muscles are all clenched up. The sun’s beating on me like always, but it feels like it’s right on top of me, just hammering away at my skull. Lara’s mouth is open, shocked. I can almost see the wheels turning in her one-quarter brain, calculating the odds that she’ll ever speak to me again. Her mouth closes. The solution? Zero.

Then, in the unlikeliest of responses, she breaks into a huge smile. “Sie, you know what? That was one of the fu

I blink. “Uh.”

“Come on, Sie. Out with it. Something’s behind that mouth of yours, and I want to know exactly what.”

Okay. Here goes. “I turned sixteen,” I say, turning away from her, my feet sinking into the mush.

She laughs. “Is that all? I turned sixteen a full moon ago. That’s one thing you can’t stop, Sie—time. I’d rather jump in front of a hurd of tug than hafta try to halt the days from ticking past.”

She’s already sixteen. I didn’t even realize it. I mean, I was pretty sure we’d be in the same Call, but I’d never confirmed it, never thought to. Why is she not bothered by it? In a full moon we’ll both be sitting there, waiting for the name. The name of the guy we’ll be Bearing children with. Not in a few years, but like, later that day. Well, not Bearing them exactly, but making them, or creating them, or doing whatever it is we’re s’posed to do. And from what Veeva says, there’s no way ’round it. You gotta do it and you gotta do it naked. I’ve confirmed it about ten times with her. Can I keep my clothes on? Do I hafta see his…prickler? Her advice: “Wait till it’s dark as scorch and make it quick. In and out. You might e’en like it. I did.” Thanks, Veeva, that really helps.

“Ain’t you scared?” I ask, turning back to face Lara.

She shakes her head. “Sometimes I wonder about you. Have you still not thought about everything I told you? I ain’t doing the Call. It ain’t for me. It ain’t for you neither, but I can’t make that decision for you.”

I’m flabbergasted. The Call isn’t something you skip, like Learning or Shovel Duty. It’s the whole point of our lives up to this point. The only way anyone’s ever missed the Call is if…

“You think the Wilds are go

She laughs for the third time, looks up at the sun goddess. “Yeah, they’ll kidnap me alright.”

Then she gets up and leaves. So much for keeping me company.

~~~

I don’t know ’bout a lot of things Lara said, but she was right ’bout one thing: you can’t stop time, can’t even slow it down. I know, I’ve tried.

First I tried not sleeping. I figured that sleep is like wasting a third of a day in a blink of an eye. Sleep is skipping time, making it pass faster. So for three days straight I didn’t sleep. I snuck out, romped ’round the village, splashed water on my face, held my eyelids open with my fingertips. You know what? Those days still went right on by like I wasn’t even moving. Sure enough, I blinked and they were gone, just like all the rest.

So I filled a jar with stones and whispered a blessing to the sun goddess on each one, which represented the days left till my Call. If I could keep those stones in that jar, the days couldn’t pass. I woke up the next day, excited to watch my plan take hold. The sun rose, but I swear it was moving slower’n unusual, which got my hopes up, but by the time I left Learning it was sinking down, down, down, like always. That day went faster’n most.

You can’t stop time. It’s the most powerful force in the universe. And this time it seems to have taken sides with my father. The Call is coming whether Lara believes it’s something we should do or not.

I often wonder whether there are others just like us, living the same lives, but different. Like is there another Siena out there somewhere, not Scrawny but Strong? And a Circ who still lives, having never gone on that mission? Another Lara who doesn’t hafta count on the Wilds to kidnap her to escape the Call? I know it’s just my imagination creeping up on me in that quick and subtle way that it does, but I still wa

I hafta believe.

~~~

Three days to the Call. I’ve asked Lara half a dozen times why she thinks the Wild Ones are go

Veeva’s been giving me tips all quarter full moon, like “Don’t let yer Call take control when you lie with ’im. Show ’im who’s boss.” Like most of what she says, I don’t even know what that means.

Father’s been extra nice to me, which basically means he hasn’t yelled at me or pulled out his good friend, the snapper. That’s ’bout as good as it gets with him.

Mother seems happy too, although she’s always tired these days. “My little girl is growing up,” she says today, while we’re sitting together mending a pair of Father’s britches. They’re from the battle with the Glassies and they got holes in both knees. One of the nice things ’bout being a Pre-Bearer is that I been done with Learning for a quarter full moon. I still gotta go to some Pre-Bearer thing later today and tomorrow, but that’s it.

“Do you think Skye’s alive?” I ask.

She stops with her needle and thread, turns her tired eyes to me. “Does she feel dead?” she asks, pointing to her heart.