“Heart is four days north. Six in this weather. Try not to get lost, because I won’t go looking for you.” She slammed the door on me, cutting off the flow of warm air from the heater.
Hidden from her sight, I stuck my tongue out at her, then touched the rose carved into the oak door. This was the only home I’d ever known. After I was born, Menehem, Li’s lover, left beyond the borders of Range. He’d been too humiliated about his nosoul daughter to stay, and Li blamed me for . . . everything. The only reason she’d taken care of me—sort of—was because the Council had made her.
After that, still stinging from Menehem’s disappearance, she’d taken us to Purple Rose Cottage, which had been similarly abandoned and given a mocking name when no one thought Cris’s roses were blue. As soon as I was old enough, I spent hours coaxing the roses back to life so they’d bloom all summer. My hands still bore scars from their thorns, but I knew why they guarded themselves so fiercely.
Again I turned away, tromped down the hill. In Heart, I would beg the Council for time in the great library. There had to be a reason why, after five thousand years of the same souls being reincarnated, I’d been born.
Morning wore on, but the chill hardly eased. Snowdrifts lined the cobblestone road, and my boots flattened the film of white that developed over the day. Every so often, chipmunks and squirrels rustled iced twigs or darted up fir trees, but mostly there was silence. Even the bull elk nosing aside snow didn’t make a sound. I might have been the only person in Range.
I should have left before my quindec, my fifteenth birthday and—for normal people—the day of physical adulthood. Normal people left their parents to celebrate that birthday with friends, but I didn’t have those, and I’d thought I needed more time to learn the skills everyone else had known for thousands of years. Served me right for believing every time Li said how stupid I was.
She’d never have that chance again. When the cottage road ended, I checked my compass and took the fork that led north.
The mountain woods of southern Range were familiar and safe; bears and other large mammals never bothered me, but I didn’t bother them either. I’d spent my youth collecting shiny rocks and shells that had wormed to the surface after centuries. According to books, a thousand years ago, Rangedge Lake flooded this far north in rainy seasons, so now there were always treasures to hunt.
I didn’t break to eat, just nibbled on cellar-wrinkled apples while I walked, leaving a trail of cores for lucky critters to find. Stomach sated, I tugged my shirt collar over my nose, making breath crawl over my lips and cheeks. With my throat and chest full of warm air, I sang nonsense about freedom and nature. My footfalls kept cadence, and an eagle cried harmony.
I’d never had formal music training, but I’d stolen theory books from the cottage library and, a few times, recordings of the most celebrated musician in Range: Dossam. I’d memorized his—sometimes her—songs so I’d have them after Li discovered my theft; the beatings had been worth it.
Gradually, the cloud-diffused sunlight sank toward the horizon, silhouetting the snowy peaks on my right. Odd, because I was going north, so the sun should have set on my left.
Perhaps the road had snaked around a hill and I hadn’t noticed. The mountains were filled with tricky paths that looked promising until they stopped at a small lake or canyon. When plotting roads through the wilderness, engineers had been careful to avoid those things, but they still had to be mindful of steep hills and mountains. Curves, both sharp and shallow, were to be expected.
But when I left my backpack on the cobblestones and climbed a cottonwood to get a better view, I couldn’t find a place where the road turned back. As far as I could see through the twilight gloom, the road carved a path through firs and pines, straight past Rangedge Lake, which marked the southern boundary of Range.
Li had tricked me.
“I hate you!” I hurled the compass to the ground and squeezed my eyes tight, not even sure who I should be angry at. Li, who’d given me a bad compass, or myself, for trusting her to offer even that much kindness.
I’d wasted an entire day of walking, but at least I’d noticed before passing beyond Range. The last thing I needed was to run into a centaur—quite possible this far south—or sylph, which haunted the edges of Range. They didn’t usually come in, thanks to heat-detecting traps placed throughout the forest, but I’d often dreamt of them as a child, and I wasn’t always convinced the shadows and warmth were nightmares.
Whatever. Li would never know about her victory if I didn’t tell her.