The Earth Dwellers

“Yeah, you never told us the whole story,” I say.

Jade’s face goes slightly red. It’s nice to see her like this, acting her age a little. Usually she’s just like a mini-Skye, all rough’n tumble.

I owe Circ one for this. We should be getting ready to leave, both Skye and me, but he agreed to pack for us, so we could spend this time with Jade.

“I told you, I chucked a scrub brush at his head,” she says.

Skye laughs loudly. “That’s always my favorite part.” It’s nice to see Skye like this, cracking jokes, laughing, like she don’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“But what happened after that?” I ask. “You know, up until that baggard Admiral Jones tied you to the pole and whipped you.”

She picks up Polk, cradles him in her arms, and tells us the whole story. ’Bout how she tormented Huck every chance she got, but then eventually realized he was trying to do the right things, how he did unspeakable things to save her life, how he saved her from drowning. Huck Jones sounds like a real hero. It’s no wonder she’s got feelings for him.

“So that’s why Admiral Jones beat you? ’Cause his son was fallin’ for you?” Skye asks.

We’ve both seen the wounds, which have a long way to go ’fore they’re fully healed. She’ll always have the scars. Red slashes down her back, puffy welts, her perfect, beautiful skin made to look like a battlefield.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Jade says slowly.

Me and Skye look at each other, then back at her. Polk’s got a handful of her hair and is pulling on it.

“Whaddya mean?” Skye says.

“It’s true that the Admiral Jones you’re thinking of ordered me to be beaten, and he even got a lash in…” She closes her eyes, a long blink. When she opens them a single tear drips out of each eye.

“Then who did the rest of it?” Skye asks, her fists balling in her lap. Sun goddess help him if it’s someone who’s still alive.

“He had no choice,” Jade says, “Admiral Jones would’ve killed us both if he didn’t…”

“Who?” Skye says through locked teeth.

“The new Admiral Jones,” Jade says, clutching Polk to her chest. “Huck.”

Skye stands, her chest heaving. “Then how are you…how could you…why do you…” She can’t get the words out, and I understand completely. Anyone who’d hurt our sister this way deserves the worst.

But we don’t know the circumstances, do we? Could there ever be a reason to hurt the ones you love? Would I ever be able to whip Circ, if I knew his life depended on it? I know the only answer is yes.

“Skye, she’s alive and that’s all that mat—”

“I’ll destroy him,” Skye growls. “If I ever see that runt again, I’ll beat him ten times worse’n he beat you.”

She stalks out of the tent, leaving Jade crying and Polk playing with her hair.

~~~

Eventually I’m able to calm Jade down. We both know how Skye is. She’ll come ’round. I mean, she might get a few licks in on Huck Jones if she ever sees him again, but surely she won’t kill him. Least that’s what we tell ourselves.

We say our goodbyes and I leave Jade with Circ’s family, who she’s been staying with.

I take Polk back to his mother, my old friend Veeva, who I haven’t had a chance to catch up with yet. She’s outside her tent, hanging wet bundles on a line, ’bout a dozen of ’em.

“Sun goddess, Siena,” she says, and it’s like I never left. It’s always been that way with her. “Take that spawn of the devil right back wherever you found ’im; I ain’t ready to clean another bundle. He’s down to his last one.”

“I think he’s hungry,” I say. “He’s been fussing something fierce.”

“He’s always hungry,” she says, but she whips out one of her large breasts like there ain’t dozens of people walking ’tween the tents. I try not to look, but it’s hard not to. I notice a few other heads turning, too, mostly men. When I hand Polk to Veeva, he goes right for the food. Guess I was right ’bout him being hungry. “I heard all the warriors’ll be leavin’ soon,” she says. “Guess that means you.”

“Yeah,” I say, wondering when I became a warrior. I still almost feel like I’m playing a child’s game when I start shooting my pointers. Only in this game people really die.

“Grunt’s going too,” she says.

“What?” I say, genuinely shocked. Her guy, Grunt, ain’t no warrior. He’s the shankiest man I ever met. I can’t imagine him marching through the desert, much less fighting against the Glassies.

“Everyone who don’t have a good reason not to is going,” she says. “I’m still feeding Polk ’ere, so I don’t have to.”

“You mean, you woulda gone if not for Polk?”

“What, you think I can’t take care of myself?” Veeva says. “I’ve slapped Grunt many a night when he’s come home drunk on the fire juice, gropin’ at me with those magical hands of his. I might not be the ladylike type, but I won’t lay with a man in that kinda condition, even one as talented as my Call.”

Hearing the words “magical” and “talented” associated with Grunt makes me wa

“Yeah, that’s what Grunt says, too, only he looks much scareder’n you when he says it. You’ll watch out for ’im, won’t you?” There’s something in her eyes I’m not used to seeing.

“Of course I will. He’ll be just fine. I’d better get ru

“Be safe,” Veeva says. “Yer probably the only person that really gets me, so I can’t lose you.”

That’s when I realize what I saw in her eyes: fear.

~~~

“They deserved better,” Wilde says. I look at her eyes, which are full of hurt. “We have to defeat the Glassies for them.”

I was surprised when she pulled me aside, just ’fore it was time to leave.

I stare at her, unblinking. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I just need to talk to someone,” she says, and I realize what a searin’ fool I’ve been. While I’ve been trying to help Skye get through what happened, and Skye’s been trying to get herself through it, no one’s been helping Wilde.

I guess everyone just ’spects her to do things on her own, the way she always does. But this hurt must run too deep, even for her.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’d forgotten.”

Her eyes soften. “It’s okay,” she says. “I didn’t love Buff, not in that way. We never would have worked out together, but he made me laugh. I still cared about him, about all of them…Dazz, his mother, Jolie. I loved them like family.”

I know. I know. I did, too, but maybe not as strongly as Wilde did, ’cause she spent so much time with ’em.

I still don’t know what to say ’cause I’m helpless. I can’t bring ’em back, can’t fix anything. But that’s not what she wants, is it? Suddenly the answer is obvious. Even the strongest of us are like little children sometimes, and just need someone to hold ’em.

I put my arms out and Wilde practically falls into me. “I’m here,” I murmur as her tears stain my neck.

~~~

I’d hold Circ’s hand as we leave, but I’m s’posed to be a warrior, and I don’t think warriors hold hands. So I settle for walking next to him, occasionally brushing up against his side. The wind’s heavy, picking up clusters of sand every now and then, tossing it into our faces. Thankfully, not strong enough for a sandstorm, but plenty strong enough to be searin’ a

Skye strides up ahead with Wilde, who looks nothing like she did when I last spoke to her; once again, she’s her calm, composed self, every doubt and hurt and fear having dried on the skin of my neck, leaving faint, white tracks. T’gether, they lead us northwards.

Early on, I tried to talk to Skye ’bout Huck Jones and how Jade wouldn’t want her to hurt him, but she just told me to “Shut my tughole” and kept walking. As much as I admire her, sometimes I wish I was stronger’n her so I could give her a piece of my mind.