Fire Country

“And she found out they’re fixin’ to go after the Heaters again.”

My shoulders slump and I sigh. “That’s a good thing, right? It’ll keep them distracted while they hold the Glassies off like last time.”

Skye just stares at me, her expression blank.

“Right?” I ask again.

She chews on her lip.

Then I realize. Last time they only survived ’cause of a lucky sandstorm. They were losing ’fore it hit, losing badly, regardless of what the Greynotes say. And now, between the Hunters they lost when the Killers attacked and the ones we killed, their numbers are dreadfully low.

“They won’t survive ’nother attack,” Skye says, as if to close the loop on my thoughts. “Scout says the burnin’ Glassies are bringin’ twice as many as last time.”

“We hafta warn the Heaters,” I say. “Somehow get a message to them. They hafta abandon the village.” Although I hate my father, I don’t hate the Heaters. Some of them may be like him, but so many ain’t.

“They already know,” Skye says. “Their scouts found out the same way ours did.”

“So they’re leaving then.”

“No.”

“What? Whaddya mean no? They hafta.”

“You know, Father. He’s the stubbornest, most arrogant man in fire country. He’s fixin’ to fight.”

“What’re we go

“Count our lucky stars,” Skye says.

I slam a fist in the durt, heat rising in my chest. “We can’t do that! We hafta help!”

“Decision’s been made.”

“Then unmake it.”

“They won’t listen to me,” Skye says. I realize then that’s she’s already tried to convince them to help the Heaters. I shake my head in disbelief.

“Wilde?” I say.

“Naw. Brione and Crya. Wilde’s the leader, but she’s no dictator. Majority rules.”

“But Brione’ll listen,” I argue.

“Not this time. Crya’s got her on her side.”

“Sear it all to burnin’ scorch!” I shout. Skye’s head bobs back, surprised to hear an outburst like that from me. I lower my voice. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Then do somethin’!” Skye says, ’fore crawling outta the tent.

~~~

Skye’s right. It’s so easy to fling complaints ’round like rocks, clattering them off the desert floor. But to take action takes guts. After a few full moons in Wildetown, my guts are raring to be used.

I storm up to the leaders’ tent, knock on one of the poles, say, “Siena here to see Crya and Brione.”

A few seconds later, Brione pokes her head out. “You shouldn’t be ’ere,” she hisses.

“This is the one place I should be,” I retort. “Lemme in.” When I arrived in Wildetown, weak and half-starved at the begi

“The decision’s made.” So she knows why I’m here.

“Yeah, I’m hearing that a lot lately. But that doesn’t mean it’s true. Lemme in.”

She sighs, runs a hand over her bald head. Motions for me to enter.

When I enter I blink away the darkness, letting my eyes adjust gradually. No one’s sitting in their normal positions. Crya’s way off to one side, against the side of the tent as if she’s ’bout to dig her way out. Wilde’s on t’other side, sitting calmly, hands clasped. Brione takes a spot between them, so far from either of them she’s like a lonely rock in a sea of sand.

“What do you want?” Crya demands.

“To talk,” I say firmly, not letting myself be intimidated like usual.

“Then talk,” Crya says.

“You can’t abandon the Heaters,” I say. I speak to Brione, ’cause I know Wilde’s on our side and Crya won’t change her mind, ’specially not if it’s me that’s asking her to change it.

“They abandoned us when they decided to treat women like slaves, baby machines, Breeders,” Crya says.

“I ain’t no Breeder,” Brione says, her fists knotted at her sides. “I ain’t ready for kids yet. Might never be.”

“I’m not saying you hafta be a Bearer,” I plead. “Just that we help them.”

“No,” Brione says with a humph. “I won’t do it.” I’m starting to get a feel for what Skye hadta deal with.

“Look, even if we hate what the Heaters are doing, it don’t make this right. Their Laws may be all wrong, twisted up, but if we don’t help, we’ll be just as guilty.”

Brione looks uncertain, like I’ve hit a soft spot, maybe one Skye or Wilde already hit. Another witness to the wrongness of this decision. She squirms, flexes one leg, then t’other.

“Brione!” Crya says, snapping Brione’s gaze back to her. “Don’t let this Runt tell you what to do!”

I wheel on her, my hands clenched at my side, my jaw set high and tight. The words I’ve worked so hard to cast out of my life tumble through my mind in a vicious spiral.

Runt, Scrawny, Weakling, Tent-Pole, Scrubgrass.

I am none of those things.

Never was.

Circ saw what I couldn’t all along. He knew my heart was stronger’n my body. He saw my potential. “I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not weak,” I say. “And I won’t sit back and make more mistakes, even worse ones. Whether you all come with me or not, I’m going back to the village to fight.”

“Good riddance,” Crya mumbles. “Now get out of my face.”

“Brione,” Wilde says. “Listen to reason.”

Brione’s staring at me, just staring, like I’ve grown a new head that looks like a prickler, green and spiky. “All right,” she says, “but I’s only helping them this one time. Next time they’s on their own.”

“This is madness,” Crya says. She scrambles to her feet and pushes past me, gone.

Wilde looks at me with interest. “Thank you,” she says.

~~~

Skye’s waiting for me outside the tent when I return. “You didn’t,” she says.

“I did,” I say.

“I saw Crya storm past and she looked all grizzed off. What the scorch did they say?”

“We’re going.”

“What?”

“We’re going,” I repeat. “We’re going to fight the Glassies.”

“You know what? Yer incredible sometimes,” she says. Coming from her, it means everything.

“Can you do something for me, Skye?” I ask, biting my lip as I say it.

“Sure. Anythin’.”

“Cut my hair,” I say.

Chapter Thirty-Four

We leave immediately. Well, nearly. Just as soon as we pack up, grab a few weapons, and pause for a moment so Skye can hack off the majority of my long, dark locks. At first I’m horrified, on the verge of tears as I hold the thick hair in my hands. But then I run my fingers over my scalp and I feel…really searin’ good. Lighter and more in control. Like a Wilde One. If I see my father, at least he’ll know exactly where I stand.

We hold a council ’fore we leave. No one’s beng forced to go. Wilde simply states the facts, asks for each and every Wilde’s help, and then gives everyone the option to stay or go. “There’s no shame in staying behind,” she says.

Everyone wants to fight, Crya included, for which I’m glad. We might not get along, but she’s one scorch of a fighter and we’ll need her. We’ll need everyone.

We take enough food and water for two days, ’cause we need to travel light, and ’cause if we don’t make it there in that amount of time, there won’t be anything left of the village and we’ll be able to scavenge all the food and water we want. And if we do make it and manage to help the Hunters defend the village, we’ll surely be welcome to partake of whatever meager stores they’ve got. And if my father don’t like it, he’ll have my fists and feet to answer to.

We run during the first night, while the air is warm, rather’n hot. Our bows and sheathed blades click and clatter as we trot along, a hundred girls strong, with the Dead Snake River on our left. Surprised ’zards scurry out of our path, diving for their holes. A pack of Cotees prowls nearby, but a well-loosed pointer in their general direction scatters them away. The trip is so different this time.