Fire Country

This is what I deserve for bringing this scorch upon the Wildes. This is why the unseen force moved me to leave the safety of the cave. To die. To die for my mistakes. His blade flashes down.

The ring of metal on metal shrills in my ear as another blade crosses the Hunter’s. Surprised, he’s thrown back. Skye stands over me.

“It’s burnin’ over,” she growls. “Retreat while you have the chance.”

Through her legs I see the ogre-like Hunter scan the area ’round him, and then, sensing the truth of Sky’s words, he lowers his head and runs.

I gasp, suck at the air, come up empty. Fire licks at my chest, splinters of glass pierce my skin. Not really, but that’s how it feels.

“Breathe, Sie,” Skye says, kneeling over me. I close my eyes, disappear to a place where Hunters and Wildes don’t exist.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Twenty-six dead Wildes. We dig holes and bury them instead of lighting them on fire, ignoring yet another Heater tradition. Their blood’s on my hands. Brione says it’s an honest mistake, but I think she only says that outta respect for Skye. Wilde says my father is the only one to blame, and I can tell that she means it. But I know she’s wrong. Crya glares at me every time she sees me. She don’t say anything, just stares, which feels worse.

No one else knows it was me that brought this on us. ’Cept Lye, and she’s gone away again to spy, so that we’re ready for when they come back. Which they will. My father doesn’t like to lose. And next time it’ll be with lots more Hunters, maybe all of them, and they won’t be so easily trapped. They’ll be ready.

Yeah, my father got away. Skye said he saw her but she’s not sure if he recognized her. By the time I scampered into the middle of things he’d already disappeared, the first to retreat when things went sour. Typical.

Hawk wasn’t among the dead Hunters either, so I guess he slipped away too. I’m glad for it. If his life was good enough for Circ to save, then there must be something in him worth keeping ’round.

We buried the dead Hunters. Among the lot of us, we were able to identify most of the dead. Skye says she killed eight of them, more’n anyone else by double. The few that were injured we bandaged up and sent packing into the desert. They get to live if they can make it back to the tribe.

There’s talk of moving our camp now that the Heaters know where it is, but no one has any ideas as to where. It’s unlikely we’ll find another spot as perfect. In the end, it’s Wilde’s decision, so things sorta go back to normal while we wait for her to tell us what to do. We train every day, cultivate the prickler fields, eat, sleep. But no one’s heart is in it. Everyone lost a friend, a sister.

Lara survived, although, to her joy, she received several nasty-looking wounds that’ll most certainly leave “beautifully jagged scars,” as she says.

Char died, as did two of t’others from my Call. I still cry every night for them. I should be the one in the ground, not them. They deserved better.

The only thing that keeps me going is knowing my father’ll be back. I don’t care if he brings a hundred, or even a thousand, Hunters. I’ll get to him one way or another, kill him with the knife my mother gave me. Avenge all the lives he’s so ruthlessly taken.

He coulda saved my mother’s life.

That statement alone keeps me going.

For the first coupla quarter full moons, everyone’s kinda jittery, as if the Heaters might show up at any time, even though we all know the scouts’ll let us know in advance. But things settle down as soon as Wilde makes the a

Her decision suits me just fine.

Another half a full moon passes without word from any of the scouts. The pricklers are full grown. The fields of scrubgrass are thick and high. I train harder’n ever in the mornings, and help to harvest the food in the afternoons. My body is lean and dark and sprouting muscles in places I never knew I had. I’m still the ski

I’m strong. I’m determined. Like Skye, I’ve changed.

~~~

The first scout appears just as summer does. You can always tell when spring moves to summer ’cause the rains stop. We finished the harvest just in time, too, ’fore the sun goddess’s eye could take everything as recompense for the gift of life.

The scout’s not Lye, but she looks like her. Small, dark-eyed, and weary. She goes straight into the leaders’ tent. This time they don’t request my presence. My sister does, however, go with them. She seems to be included in everything, as if she’s an unofficial leader.

I wa

My body is fully engaged in ru

“What’s on your mind?” Lara says, as I trip over the boulder I’m meant to be going ’round. She helps me up.

“There’s a scout in camp today,” I say.

“There is? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s a good question. It seems ever since the first Heater attack, my relationship with Lara has been fully one-sided. She talks, I listen, offering very little in return. I realize how unfair it’s been to her, and how understanding she’s been. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m distracted.” A weak explanation. Who’s not distracted after everything that’s happened?

And yet she nods, her eyes wide with compassion. “Your father has done so much evil,” she says. She does understand, which takes me by surprise considering how little I’ve offered her lately.

“Lara, I know I haven’t really been there for you. Char was your good friend. I shoulda…”

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You’ve been great actually. It’s easier for me not to talk ’bout it.” I can’t help but laugh. For once one of my screw-ups turned out to be a good thing.

“Thanks, Lara. For everything.”

“If your father comes back, we’ll get him,” she says. The strained look on her face tells me it’s not just talk.

~~~

Skye’s in our tent when I get back from training. There’s a grim look on her face.

“What happened?” I say, unable to hide the tension in my voice.

“There’ll be an a

“Skye! Don’t make me beg!”

“Okay, okay, keep yer burnin’ clothes on!” She repositions herself, curls her legs beneath her, stretches, cracks her neck and knuckles. Her every movement is agonizingly slow.

“Skye, c’mon!”

“Anyone ever tell you yer pushy?” she asks.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re irritating?” I return.

She laughs. “All the time. Look, the scout that came in today was watchin’ the searin’ Glassies. Checkin’ that they weren’t causin’ more problems’n usual. Watchin’ ’em buildin’ their buildin’s, hidin’ in their Glass City, that sorta thing.”

“And?” I say impatiently.