“Why’s that?”
“The Payment can’t have been long ago if you’re here. Peruxolo would have traveled through with a cart heaped with meat. The ziken are following his trail. That must be why there are so many out and about. I shouldn’t have come anywhere near here.”
And I’ve been following the same trail. No wonder one of them found me early this morning.
“A whole year,” I say, thinking of Soren’s earlier comment. “So it’s possible to survive in the wild. How have you not gone mad being out on your own for so long?”
“I haven’t been alone. We’ve arrived.”
We duck some thick branches and stop in front of—
Another tree.
Only this one has a house built into its branches. It’s small, perhaps the size of my bedroom back home, and it’s made out of—
“Is that wood?”
Soren’s eyelids flutter. Must be taking him some effort to keep them open. “Our best discovery out in the wild. There are trees out here that stay strong long after they’re cut.”
His eyes close, and suddenly he’s all deadweight.
My back slams against the base of the large tree supporting Soren’s home. I try to lower him as gently as I can the rest of the way to the ground.
He plops against the rocks, and his eyes suddenly shoot back open.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“So … tired,” he says.
I take in the tree. The branches near the base look sturdy, and they’re spaced evenly apart to make for easy handholds. But there’s no way I’m getting Soren up there on my own.
“Hello?” I venture, raising my voice. Soren said he didn’t live alone. “Anybody up there?”
Silence.
“Soren’s in bad shape, so if you’re up there, I could use some help.”
There’s a loud thump in response, like someone dropped something. In the next second, a piece of the flooring raises—a door.
A head sticks out, takes in Soren on the ground and me standing next to him. It’s another boy. He immediately starts climbing down the tree. He looks the same age as Soren. His hair is much lighter, a brown so bright it is almost blond. He’s also taller than his friend, with leaner muscles. An ax rises over his right shoulder. Another warrior.
Once he hits the ground, brown eyes lighter than mine size me up from head to toe. When he finishes his assessment—presumably coming to the conclusion I’m not an immediate threat—he leans down to check on Soren.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Ziken horde,” I explain.
The new boy lifts up the tattered remains of Soren’s shirt. Looking for bites, I realize.
“Not injured, Iric,” Soren groans out. “She … healed me.”
The boy, who must be Iric, gives me yet another once-over. I can’t imagine what exactly he must think, but his eyes land on my ax. “Can you help me get him up there?” He jerks his head toward the tree house.
“I think so.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Iric scurries up the tree. In another moment, he drops down a rope with a loop around the end. “Can you put that under his shoulders?”
Understanding what he intends, I manage to get the rope over Soren’s head and under his arms.
“What’s going on?” Soren asks.
“This might hurt a bit, but we’re going to get you up where it’s safe,” I answer.
I hoist myself onto the nearest branch. I loved climbing trees when I was little, and it would seem my body hasn’t forgotten the motions. I get myself up through the hatch in the floor and briefly take in the shared living space.
Two small feather-stuffed mattresses, a fireplace, a wooden table and chair, and a pile of what I suspect is dirty clothing by the smell of it.
I get behind Iric and grab a section of the rope. A pulley dangles from the ceiling. They must hoist things through the hatch regularly. Likely firewood to cook their meals in the fireplace. I hope the pulley is strong enough to manage a body.
“On three,” Iric says.
The two of us start heaving. Even with the pulley, we have to strain our muscles to get Soren up and over the trapdoor. Iric unhooks him from the pulley and drags him over to one of the mattresses.
“How many ziken got ahold of him?” Iric asks as he stares down at Soren.
“A dozen,” I answer. “I found him twitching on the ground. Thought he was already dead.”
“You killed a dozen of them?” he asks, a note of suspicion in his tone.
“It was easier because they were distracted by the raw flesh.” I nod at Soren.
“He doesn’t have any bite marks, but he’s covered in dried blood.”
Though I’m loathe to have another person know about Irrenia’s miracle cure, I explain about the salve. I hope these boys wouldn’t steal from me after I helped them.
“You have my deepest thanks…” Iric leaves the ending open for my name.
“Rasmira,” I offer.
Though I’m in no way fishing for compliments, I’m surprised he doesn’t send one up to the goddess for me. It is the polite thing to do. But then another thought hits me. These two boys have lived in the wild for a year. This house is so permanent. Have they even tried to complete their mattugrs? Maybe they don’t believe in the goddess. These two aren’t from my village. They’re both warriors, so I would have met them if they were. Do not all villages know of the goddess?
The distinct sound of a slap pulls me from my thoughts. I look down to see Iric standing over Soren, the latter boy’s left cheek now red. “Wake up!”
Soren’s whole body jolts. His eyes shoot open.
“What the hell were you doing?” Iric asks.
“I was … hunting,” Soren manages.
“You nearly got yourself killed. You nearly left me alone, you arrogant ass!”
“I’m … sorry.”
“Not yet you’re not. But you will be once you’re healthy enough to receive the beating that’s coming your way.”
Soren smiles. Smiles! And then his eyes drift closed once more.
“Is he safe if I leave him with you?” I ask.
“He’s fine,” Iric grits out. “Did he hit his head at all?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Good.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “We don’t have a lot of space, but you’re welcome to find a free spot on the floor to sleep on. You look ready to drop.”
Nothing could wake me up more.
“Thank you, but I need to be on my way.”
“Are you going somewhere? You’re not in exile like we are?”
“I was banished and given my mattugr. I intend to complete it.”
Iric smiles, and I’m not entirely convinced it’s a kind one. “You’re going to complete your mattugr, are you?”
“Complete it and go home or die trying. Either way, I will be with the goddess in the next life.”
His lips press together, as though to keep from laughing.
“What?” I snap.
“You just saved Soren. I shouldn’t.”
“Say it anyway.”
“All right. Rasmira, was it? There’s no delicate way to put this, so let me be up front. You’re never returning home. No one completes their mattugr. They’re designed to be unbeatable. We are the ones no one wants, the ones everyone is ashamed of. The sooner you accept that, the better off you will be. You will never see your family or friends ever again.
“And your so-called goddess? What kind of gracious deity demands that her subjects die horribly in order to be received into her Paradise? Dying horribly is stupid. I suggest you make yourself a shelter, get yourself into a routine, and accept that this is your new life.
“Welcome to the wild.”
CHAPTER
6
Bastard.
I’m glad to be free of that stuffy tree house full of idiot males.
Somehow I manage to find the road again. I walk down it for several minutes before crossing to the other side and plunging into the foliage. Everything Iric told me was false and ignorant, but he was right about one thing. I need shelter. It’s foolish to travel any longer without having a place to rest safely. I’m running on embers. It won’t be long before they snuff out and my body demands the sleep it so desperately needs. I’ll be as helpless as Soren in a moment.