The Sun Dwellers

Teacher speaks. “I ask you this not to test your knowledge, for clearly every Youngling in fire country knows this, but to ensure your understanding as to our ways, our traditions, our laws.” Thankfully the heads turn back to Teacher and I can let out the breath I’ve been holding.

“Nice one, Sie,” Circ hisses from beside me.

I glance toward him, eyes narrowed. “You could have helped me out,” I whisper back.

His deeply ta

Teacher Mas drones on. “Living in a world where each breath we take slowly kills us, where the glass people kill us with their chariots of fire, where the Killers crave our blood, our flesh, where our enemies in ice country and water country close in around us, requires discipline, order, commitment. Each of you took a pledge when you turned twelve to uphold this order, to obey the laws of our people. The laws of fire country.”

Ugh—I’ve heard this all before, so many times that if I hear one more mention of the laws of fire country, I think I might scream. Nothing against them or anything, considering they were created to help us all survive, but between my father and the Teachers, I’ve just had enough of it.

Watching Teacher, I risk another whisper to Circ. “You could have told me what question he asked.”

“Teacher would have heard—and then we’d both be on Blaze Craze.”

He’s right, not that I’ll admit it. Teacher doesn’t miss much. At least not with me. In the last month alone, I’ve been caught daydreaming four times. Wait till my father finds out.

“The Wild Ones steal more and more of our precious daughters with each new season.” Teacher’s words catch my attention. The Wild Ones. I’ve never heard Teacher talk about them before. In fact, I’ve never heard anyone talk about them, except for us Younglings, with our rumors and gossip—not openly anyway. My head spins as I grapple with his words and my thoughts. The Wild Ones. My sister. The Wild Ones. Kendra. Wild. Sis.

“It is obvious I have captured the attention of many of you Younglings,” Teacher continues. “It’s good to know I can still do that after all these years.” He laughs softly to himself. “Surely you have all heard rumors of the Wild Ones, descending on our village during the Call, snatching our new Bearers from our huts, our tents, and our campfires.” He pauses, looks around, his eyes lingering on mine. “Well, I’m here today to confirm that some of the rumors are true.”

I knew it, I think. My sister didn’t run away like everyone said. She was taken, against her will, to join the group of feral women who are wreaking havoc across fire country. The Wild Ones do exist.

“We have to do something,” I accidentally say out loud, my thoughts spilling from my lips like intestines from a gutted tug’s stomach.

Once more, the room turns toward me, and I find myself investigating an odd-shaped rock on the dusty ground. Hawk, a thick-headed guy with more muscles than brains, says, “What are you go

“Watch it, Hawk,” Teacher says, “or you’ll earn your own shovel. In fact, Siena’s right.” I’m so shocked by his words that I forget about the rock and look up.

“I am?” I say, sinking further into the pit of stupidity I’ve been digging all morning.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Siena. We all have a part to play in turning this around. We must be vigilant, must not allow ourselves even a speck of doubt that maintaining the traditions of our fathers is not the best thing for us.”

“I think the Wilds sound pretty smoky,” Hawk says from the back. There are a few giggles from some of the more shilty girls, and two of Hawk’s mates slap him on the back like he’s just made the joke of the year.

“What do we do, Teacher?” Farla, a soft-spoken girl, asks earnestly.

Teacher nods. “Now you’re asking the right questions. Two things: First, if you hear anything—anything at all—about the Wild Ones, tell your fathers; and second—”

“What about our mothers?” someone asks, interrupting.

“Excuse me?” Teacher Mas says, peering over the tops of the cross-legged Younglings to find the asker of the question.

“The mothers? You said to tell our fathers if we hear anything about the Wilds. Shouldn’t we tell our mothers, too?”

I look around to find who spoke. Lara. I should’ve known. She’s always stirring the kettle, both during Learning and Social time, with her radical ideas. She’s always saying crazy things about what girls should be allowed to do, like hunt and play feetball. My father has always said she’s one to watch, whatever that means. I, for one, kind of like her. At least she’s never made fun of me like most of t’others.

Her black hair is short, like a boy’s, buzzed almost to the scalp. Appalling. How she obtained her father’s permission for such a haircut is beyond me. But at least she’s not a shilt, like so many of the other girls who sneak behind the border tents and swap spit with whichever Youngling they think is the smokiest. I’ve always admired Lara’s blaze-on-me-and-I’ll-blaze-on-you attitude, although I’d never admit it for fear of my father finding out. He’d break out his favorite leather snapper for sure, the one that left the scars on my back when I was thirteen and thought skipping Learning to watch the hunters sounded like a good idea.

“Tell your fathers first, and they can tell your mothers,” Teacher says quickly. “Where was I? Oh yes, the second thing you can do. If the Wilds, I mean the Wild Ones, approach you, try to convince you to leave, whisper their lies in your ear, resist them. Close your ears to them and run away, screaming your head off. That’s the best thing you can do.”

Pondering Teacher’s words, I look up at the sky, so big and red and monster-like, full of yellow-gray clouds that are its claws, creeping down the horizon in streaks, practically touching the desert floor. And a single eye, blazing with fire—the eye of the sun goddess. It’s no wonder they call this place fire country.

Chapter Two

“Why would the Wilds whisper lies in my ear if they’re going to kidnap me anyway?” I ask Circ the first chance I get after Teacher dismisses us from Learning. My voice sounds fu

Circ laughs at my voice, and then says, “They’re not going to kidnap you, Sie.” I snort, because his voice sounds even fu

“I don’t mean me me. I just mean hypothetically speaking. If the Wilds were to try to kidnap me”—I look at Circ, trying not to laugh at the sight of his squashed nose—“or any other Youngling girl, why wouldn’t they just grab her from behind, put a hand over her mouth, and carry her away in a burlap sack?”

“Maybe they’re all out of burlap?” Circ says, cracking up and losing the grip on his nose. He sticks out his tongue as the foul odor sneaks up his nostrils. The tips of his moccasin-covered feet are touching mine as we sit cross-legged across from each other. We’ve always sat this way since we were just Totters.

“C’mon,” I say, clutching my stomach, “I’m being serious.” The only problem: it’s hard to be serious when I can’t stop laughing.

“I don’t know, Sie, maybe it’s easier if they can convince you to come with them, rather than having to haul your tiny butt away with you kicking and screaming.”