The Scourge (12 page)

He takes my still-wrapped hand and puts it on his arm, then leads me in the direction I pointed. I try to spread more crampberries around the entrance of the passage, but he pulls me back and takes the pouch out of my hand.

“My turn today,” he says.

“I don’t mind doing it."

“You’d cheat me out of my chance to smell them up close?” His voice droops with mock sadness.

I laugh, and hand him the bag. “Have it your way, then.”

He smears the berries, grousing the whole time, then he wraps my hand back around his arm.

“I can manage on my own. The salve you put on my fingers helped a lot,” I tell him.

“But I’m scared,” he says in an exaggerated whisper. “I don’t want to get separated.”

I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

Our laughter doesn’t last. The passage is particularly lengthy, and it leads us to another cavern, larger than any we’ve been through yet. It takes almost an hour to traverse, even with the torch lighting the way. Gaping cavities in the floor make me very glad one of us can see where we’re going. We get to the far side without finding another passage to take.

“It’s a dead end.” Peree kicks at the ground. Small rocks skitter away from his foot.

“It can’t be,” I say.

“There’s no other exit. What would you call it?”

“There’s got to be another way out.”

“Except there isn’t.”

I sigh. “Let’s go back toward the passage we came in, but around the outside this time. Maybe we missed it.”

“Fine, let’s go then, before we freeze to death.”

He leads me along the edge of the cavern, and our moods blacken as another hour passes and there’s still no passage. When I start to smell the crampberries again, I want to scream.

“We’re back to where we started!” I say, jamming my fingers into my hair.

He takes a few steps away, then says, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Minutes pass, or maybe it’s only seconds, it’s hard to tell. He doesn’t return. A shiver wriggles down my spine, and not from the cold.

“Peree?” My voice rings out across the cavern. No answer. “Peree!” I shout. Suddenly I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life, even more alone than when I took my first steps among the Scourge. “Peree, where are you?”

The echo dies away. I want to run after him, but I wouldn’t know where to go. Frozen like one of the formations, terror steals through me.

Suddenly crampberries fill my nose again.
I’m not helpless
, I think, as I inhale the horrible smell.
I can follow the crampberries
. I take a few wobbly steps—and something grabs me.

I shriek.

“Fenn, it’s me!” Peree says. “Come on, I think I found another way out.”

He drags me forward, but I jerk him to a stop. “Don’t leave me like that! I kept calling, but you didn’t hear, and I . . . sort of panicked.” My voice trembles.

He pulls me into his chest. I’m rigid with fear, but I quickly melt into the warmth of his body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you to be left alone for a minute.”

“Well, it did. From now on we stay together, okay?”

“Okay.” He squeezes me gently, then puts my hand on his arm. “There’s another passageway, right next to the one we took to get here. It goes back in the direction we came.” I groan. “Don’t worry, it curves off. I followed it for a while, that’s why I didn’t hear you call.”

The passage does bend, seeming to lead us in a different direction from the one we used to enter the cavern. We walk for an age, before coming to a fork.

“Which way? Your choice this time,” I say. He picks one, smearing berries before we enter. “How many do we have left?”

“Don’t ask,” he says darkly.

I frown as we walk. He’s only using one or two to mark the entrances as it is. If we run out of crampberries we’ll be forced to go back. We’ve made so many turns by now there’s no way we could keep track without the smell to follow. We’d have to start leaving other supplies to mark our trail, and we can’t afford to give up what little we have.

“There’s another problem, too,” he says. “The torch is getting low.”

We haven’t used it in the enclosed passages, but crossing the caverns takes much less time with light, and it’s safer. Formations thrust out of the ground unexpectedly, or dangle dangerously down at face level. Without light we’d have to slow to a crawl to avoid them, not to mention the fathomless trenches in the ground.

I shake my shrinking second oilskin sack. I have one more, but I’ll need it for the return trip. “And we’re running out of water.” I sniff the air as we enter a new cavern. “Peree, did you smear more berries?”

“No, why?”

“I smell them again.”

He lights the torch, and swears. “This is where we spent the night!”

“Are you sure?”

“I can see the ashes of the fire. I’m sure.” He sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

I remember Sable’s warnings about the passages doubling back on themselves. “What time do you think it is?”

“Midday, maybe.”

“Aloe told me to stop searching if I hadn’t found any sign of the waters at the end of two days. What do we do?”

He takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. “Take a different passage. Come on.”

We trudge back to the fork and follow the other passageway, then another, and another, winding our way through a dizzying maze of new tunnels. My shoulders slump under my pack and my walk slows. We don’t say it, but we both know we’ll have to turn back soon. We don’t say much at all, buried in our own gloomy thoughts. It takes me a little while to realize something feels different.

“Have you noticed we’re heading uphill now?” I ask.

“No, I’ve been distracted by something else.”

“What?”

“I can see light.”

We walk faster, and hope breaks over me. “I see it, too!”

“You
see
it?” He sounds mystified.

“I mean the darkness isn’t as dark now. It must be a way out!”

“Hold on–” He stops, and shifts his pack around to reach something.

“What?”

“I’m getting my bow. We don’t know what might be out there.” In my excitement I forgot about the fleshies. “Stay behind me.”

I do what he says, touched by his protectiveness. But really he’s the one that needs shielding from the Scourge, not me. I tense anyway, ready to help in whatever way I can. We move forward, with Peree leading. After a sharp curve in the passage, the space in front of us seems to open up. The air is warmer, thanks to sunlight surging into the cave.

Then I hear a series of guttural snarls, very near. I've never heard the Scourge make these sounds.

“Unbelievable,” Peree says.

“What is it, flesh-eaters?"

“No.”

“What, then?”

“I think it’s . . . a tiger.”

“A tiger? Are you sure?” I whisper.

“Do you remember the story? It’s a big animal, yellowish-orange with black markings on its body. What else can it be?”

“What’s it doing?” Before he can answer, I hear other sounds. Whimpering and mewling. “Peree, it has babies!”

“I think that’s the problem.”

“You can’t kill their mother, they’ll die, too!” So few large animals are left. The idea of killing one—especially an unknown one, maybe even a tiger—leaving her offspring to die feels very wrong. “Can we go around her and still get outside?”

“The fleshies are out there.” His voice is dipped in dread. Now I hear the moans of the creatures beyond the cave mouth. “We’re trapping the tiger between us and them. There’s another passage, but she’s blocking the way to it.”

“Let’s go back,” I say.

The animal's scream rips through the passageway.

“She’s coming this way,” he says. “Go back down the tunnel—now.”

“No. I’m staying with you.”

“Don’t argue! I’ll be right behind you.”

“Peree–” The animal’s claws scrabble on the rock, maybe five paces away.

“Run!” he yells. My heart spasms with fear, but I don’t move, unwilling to leave him. “Get moving, Fenn!” He pushes me backward, and I finally run.

The animal snarls again, and Peree cries out. I clatter to a stop, unsure if I should keep going or try to help him. An arrow springs off the bow. The tiger whimpers. I take a few steps back the way I came, calling to Peree.

“Here,” he says, his voice strained.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Did you shoot her?” I hear the tiger whining, not far away. Her young still cry, and the flesh-eaters howl.

“Had to,” he says through clenched teeth. “She attacked me.”

I kneel down beside him. “Where are you hurt?”

He places my hand on the outside of his thigh. Blood slicks my fingers as I probe the wound. It’s shallow but wide, with ragged edges. I pull out the pouch Marjoram sent with me, squeezing and sniffing each smaller pack inside until I find the paste of agrimony and yarrow leaves. Peree hisses as I mop the blood and pat the mixture into place.

“This is my fault,” I whisper. “If I hadn’t said not to kill her, if you hadn’t had to push me away, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“Not your fault,” he says. “Should’ve . . . focused on my target.”

“That’s my point, you were focused on me, and you shouldn’t have had to be.” I dig Calli’s extra dress out of my pack and tear the bottom into strips. Fumbling with the cloth, I wrap it around his leg and tie it off. He moans, his body shaking. I hold his hand, wishing there was more I could do.

“Can you walk?” I ask, when the shudders begin to slow.

“One way to find out.” He makes a move to stand, and I put my arm around him to help. He limps forward a few steps. “I’ll manage."

I listen for the animal, but I can’t hear her ragged breath anymore. “Is she dead?”

“I think so.”

I bend down to find the body, and stroke her coarse fur. She smells of dust and scrubland, but of something far wilder, too. Where did she come from, and how did she survive the flesh-eaters and still feed her litter?

“Do you really think she’s a tiger?” I stand, supporting him again. He lays his arm across my shoulders.

“I’ve never seen anything like her.”

“What do we do about the young?”

“If we leave them, they’ll starve.” He pauses. “We could give them to . . .”

The flesh-eaters groan, like they know his thoughts. I tense. “No.”

“Starvation isn’t any kinder,” he says.

“No! The Scourge has taken enough. We’re not giving them this, too.”

He squeezes my shoulders. “Okay, then. Why don’t you go on? I’ll take care of them.”

I shake my head. “I’ll stay. We’re not separating anymore, remember?”

We walk toward the yipping babies. I know touching them will make what we have to do even harder, but I can’t help myself. I reach out and find a tiny warm body, cradling it to my chest. Its teeth prick my fingers like tiny sewing needles.

Tears fill my eyes. “Peree . . . ”

“We can’t leave them,” he says, “and we can’t take them with us. We barely have enough food between us.”

I place the baby back with its littermates and stumble down the passage. Sliding to the floor, I press my hands over my ears. A few minutes later, Peree leans against the wall next to me. His breathing is uneven.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I couldn’t do it.”

He doesn’t speak for a minute. “When I was first learning to hunt, Shrike and I came across a possum. He wanted me to shoot it. I couldn’t. I was ashamed, but he hugged me and said, ‘Never confuse compassion with weakness.’ I haven’t forgotten his words.” He shifts his pack onto his back. “We’d better get moving. I don’t know how long I’m good for.”

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, and jump up. “We should go back.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“Even if we find the Waters soon, which isn’t likely, we still have a long walk back.”

“Exactly, so let’s see if we can find something before we have to turn around.”

“Peree, I don’t–”

He limps away. I catch up and put my shoulder under his arm to support him. The groans fade behind us. Loathing for the Scourge leaves me trembling.

“I hate them. They ruin everything,” I say.

“I know.”

“I can’t help wishing . . . ”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I mutter.

He turns to me, his lips near my ear. “Tell me.”

I shrug, covering the little shiver that moved down my body. “Do you ever think about how things would be different without them? I know it’s pointless, but I can’t help picturing what it would be like if we could live wherever we wanted. Groundlings and Lofties, I mean. We could all live on the ground, or in the trees.”

“Would your people want to? Live with us, I mean?”

I consider his question. Some might be willing. Fox and Acacia. Bream, maybe even Aloe. Then I think of Adder or Thistle living side by side with Lofties, and I sigh. “Some would, some wouldn’t. There’s a lot of distrust.”

“What about you? Do you trust me?”

I hesitate. “I think so.”

He chuckles. “Honesty. Another quality I admire.” He stumbles, and grunts in pain.

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?”

“I’m fine.” His teeth are clenched again.

“Oh, I can trust you? Really? You’re lying already! We should go back.” I pull him to a stop. He doesn’t argue this time. I’m about to turn us around when I hear something, something barely audible. Peree starts to speak, but I quiet him and focus on the sound.

“I think I hear water!” I say. “Can you hear it?”

“No, but your hearing is better than mine. Let’s try to follow it.”

“What about your leg?”

“Come on, Fenn, the Waters have to lead outside. And we’ve got to be close if you can hear it!”