Fire Country (30 page)

T
wenty-six dead Wildes. We dig holes and bury them instead of lighting them on fire, ignoring yet another Heater tradition. Their blood’s on my hands. Brione says it’s an honest mistake, but I think she only says that outta respect for Skye. Wilde says my father is the only one to blame, and I can tell that she means it. But I know she’s wrong. Crya glares at me every time she sees me. She don’t say anything, just stares, which feels worse.

No one else knows it wa
s me that brought this on us. ’Cept Lye, and she’s gone away again to spy, so that we’re ready for when they come back. Which they will. My father doesn’t like to lose. And next time it’ll be with lots more Hunters, maybe all of them, and they won’t be so easily trapped. They’ll be ready.

Yeah, my father got away. Skye said he saw her but she’s not sure if he recognized her. By the time I scampered
into the middle of things he’d already disappeared, the first to retreat when things went sour. Typical.

Hawk wasn’t among the dead Hunters either, so I guess he slipped away
too. I’m glad for it. If his life was good enough for Circ to save, then there must be something in him worth keeping ’round.

We buried the dead Hunters
. Among the lot of us, we were able to identify most of the dead. Skye says she killed eight of them, more’n anyone else by double. The few that were injured we bandaged up and sent packing into the desert. They get to live if they can make it back to the tribe.

There’s talk of moving our camp now that the Heaters know where it is, but no one has any ideas as to where. It’s unlikely we’ll find another spot as perfect.
In the end, it’s Wilde’s decision, so things sorta go back to normal while we wait for her to tell us what to do. We train every day, cultivate the prickler fields, eat, sleep. But no one’s heart is in it. Everyone lost a friend, a sister.

Lara survived, although, to her joy, she received seve
ral nasty-looking wounds that’ll most certainly leave “beautifully jagged scars,” as she says.

Char died, as did two
of t’others from my Call. I still cry every night for them. I should be the one in the ground, not them. They deserved better.

The only thing that keeps
me going is knowing my father’ll be back. I don’t care if he brings a hundred, or even a thousand, Hunters. I’ll get to him one way or another, kill him with the knife my mother gave me. Avenge all the lives he’s so ruthlessly taken.

He coulda
saved my mother’s life.

That statement alone keeps me going.

For the first coupla quarter full moons, everyone’s kinda jittery, as if the Heaters might show up at any time, even though we all know the scouts’ll let us know in advance. But things settle down as soon as Wilde makes the announcement that we’re not leaving. Leaving now would mean abandoning much of the food we’ve been growing all spring. And doing so just ’fore the fiery heat of the summer sun burns everything away’ll mean our certain death anyway. So, no, we’ll not flee. We’ll stand, fight, defend what’s ours.

Her decision suits me just fine.

Another half a full moon passes without word from any of the scouts. The pricklers are full grown. The fields of scrubgrass are thick and high. I train harder’n ever in the mornings, and help to harvest the food in the afternoons. My body is lean and dark and sprouting muscles in places I never knew I had. I’m still the skinniest Wilde, but not by much anymore.

I’m strong. I’m determined. Like Skye, I’ve changed.

~~~

The first scout
appears just as summer does. You can always tell when spring moves to summer ’cause the rains stop. We finished the harvest just in time, too, ’fore the sun goddess’s eye could take everything as recompense for the gift of life.

The scout’
s not Lye, but she looks like her. Small, dark-eyed, and weary. She goes straight into the leaders’ tent. This time they don’t request my presence. My sister does, however, go with them. She seems to be included in everything, as if she’s an unofficial leader.

I wanna
stay close, to wait for Skye to come out so I can ask her what’s going on, but Lara pulls me away for training. We’re back in the same group now, ’cause it’s conditioning and agility. Running, jumping, that sorta thing. Although I’m ahead of most of t’others in speed, I’m behind in coordination thanks to my two left feet.

My body is fully engaged in running through the boulder slalom course they’ve set up for us, but my mind is elsewhere, back at the leaders’ tent, trying to figure out what
the scorch is going on. What’s the scout found out? If it was another Heater attack, wouldn’t it’ve been Lye returning to deliver the news? Where has this road-weary scout been spying?

“What’s on your mind?” Lara says, as I trip over the
boulder I’m meant to be going ’round. She helps me up.

“There’s a scout in camp today,” I say.

“There is? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s a good question. It seems ever since the first Heater attack, my relationship with Lara has been fully one-sided. She talks, I listen, offering very little in return. I realize how unfair it’s been to her, and how understanding she’s been. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m distracted.” A weak explanation. Who’s not distracted after everything that’s happened?

And yet she nods, her eyes wide with compassion. “Your father has done so much evil,” she says. She does understand, which takes me by surprise considering how little I’ve offered her lately.

“Lara, I know I haven’t really been there for you. Char was your good friend. I shoulda…”

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You’ve been great actually. It’s easier for me not to talk ’bout it.” I can’t help but laugh. For once one of my screw-ups turned out to be a good thing.

“Thanks, Lara. For everything.”

“If your father comes back, we’ll get him,” she says. The strained look on her face tells me it’s not just talk.

~~~

Skye’s in our tent when I get back from training. There’s a grim look on her face.

“What happened?” I say, unable to hide the tension in my voice.

“There’ll be an announcement at supper,” she says.

“Skye! Don’t make me beg!”

“Okay, okay, keep yer burnin’ clothes on!” She repositions herself, curls her legs beneath her, stretches, cracks her neck and knuckles. Her every movement is agonizingly slow.

“Skye, c’mon!”

“Anyone ever tell you yer pushy?” she asks.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re irritating?” I return.

She laughs. “All the time. Look, the scout that came in today was watchin’ the searin’ Glassies. Checkin’ that they weren’t causin’ more problems’n usual. Watchin’ ’em buildin’ their buildin’s, hidin’ in their Glass City, that sorta thing.”

“And?” I say impatiently.

“And she found out they’re fixin’ to go after the Heaters again.”

My shoulders slump and I sigh. “That’s a good thing, right? It’ll keep them distracted while they hold the Glassies off like last time.”

Skye just stares at me, her expression blank.

“Right?” I ask again.

She chews on her lip.

Then I realize.
Last time they only survived ’cause of a lucky sandstorm. They were losing ’fore it hit, losing badly, regardless of what the Greynotes say. And now, between the Hunters they lost when the Killers attacked and the ones we killed, their numbers are dreadfully low.

“They won’t survive ’
nother attack,” Skye says, as if to close the loop on my thoughts. “Scout says the burnin’ Glassies are bringin’ twice as many as last time.”

“We hafta
warn the Heaters,” I say. “Somehow get a message to them. They hafta abandon the village.” Although I hate my father, I don’t hate the Heaters. Some of them may be like him, but so many ain’t.

“They already know,” Skye says. “Their scouts found out the same way ours did.”

“So they’re leaving then.”

“No.”

“What? Whaddya mean no? They hafta.”

“You know, Father. He’s the stubbornest, most arrogant man in fire country. He’s fixin’ to fight.”

“What’re we gonna do?” I ask.

“Count our lucky stars,” Skye says.

I slam a fist in the durt, heat rising in my chest. “We can’t do that! We hafta help!”

“
Decision’s been made.”

“Then unmake it.”

“They won’t listen to me,” Skye says. I realize then that’s she’s already tried to convince them to help the Heaters. I shake my head in disbelief.

“Wilde?” I say.

“Naw. Brione and Crya. Wilde’s the leader, but she’s no dictator. Majority rules.”

“But Brione’ll listen,” I argue.

“Not this time. Crya’s got her on her side.”

“Sear it all to burnin’ scor
ch!” I shout. Skye’s head bobs back, surprised to hear an outburst like that from me. I lower my voice. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Then do somethin’!” Skye says, ’
fore crawling outta the tent.

~~~

Skye’s right. It’s so easy to fling complaints ’round like rocks, clattering them off the desert floor. But to take action takes guts. After a few full moons in Wildetown, my guts are raring to be used.

I storm up to the leaders’ tent, knock on one of the poles, say, “Siena here to see Crya and Brione.”

A few seconds later, Brione pokes her head out. “You shouldn’t be ’ere,” she hisses.

“This is the one place I should be,” I retort. “Lemme in.” When I arrived
in Wildetown, weak and half-starved at the beginning of spring, I never thought I’d talk to someone like Brione like this.

“The decision’s made.” So she knows why I’m here.

“Yeah, I’m hearing that a lot lately. But that doesn’t mean it’s true. Lemme in.”

She sighs, runs a hand over her bald head. Motions for me to enter.

When I enter I blink away the darkness, letting my eyes adjust gradually. No one’s sitting in their normal positions. Crya’s way off to one side, against the side of the tent as if she’s ’bout to dig her way out. Wilde’s on t’other side, sitting calmly, hands clasped. Brione takes a spot between them, so far from either of them she’s like a lonely rock in a sea of sand.

“What do
you
want?” Crya demands.

“To talk,” I say firmly, not letting myself be intimidated like usual.

“Then talk,” Crya says.

“You can’t abandon the Heaters,” I say. I sp
eak to Brione, ’cause I know Wilde’s on our side and Crya won’t change her mind, ’specially not if it’s me that’s asking her to change it.

“They abandoned us when they decided to treat women like slaves, baby machine
s,
Breeders
,” Crya says.

“I ain’t no Breeder
,” Brione says, her fists knotted at her sides. “I ain’t ready for kids yet. Might never be.”

“I’m not saying you hafta
be a Bearer,” I plead. “Just that we help them.”

“No,” Brione says with a humph. “I won’t do it.” I’m starting to get a feel for what Skye hadta deal with.

“Look, even if we hate what the Heaters are doing, it don’t make this right. Their Laws may be all wrong, twisted up, but if we don’t help, we’ll be just as guilty.”

Brione looks uncertain, like I’ve hit a soft spot, maybe one Skye or Wilde already hit. Another witness to the wrongness of this decision. She sq
uirms, flexes one leg, then t’other.

“Brione!” Crya says, snapping Brione’s gaze back to her. “Don’t let this Runt tell you what to do!”

I wheel on her, my hands clenched at my side, my jaw set high and tight. The words I’ve worked so hard to cast out of my life tumble through my mind in a vicious spiral.

Runt, Scrawny, Weakling, Tent-Pole, Scrubgrass
.

I am none of those things.

Never was.

Circ saw what I couldn’t all along. He knew my heart was stronger’n my body. He saw my potential. “I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not weak,” I say. “And I won’t sit back and make more mistakes, even worse ones. Whether you all come with me or not, I’m going back to the village to fight.”

“Good riddance,” Crya mumbles. “Now get out of my face.”

“Brione,” Wilde says. “Listen to reason.”

Brione’s staring at me, just staring, like I’ve grown a new head that looks like a prickler, green and spiky. “All right,” she says, “but I’s only helping them this one time. Next time they’s on their own.”

“This is madness,” Crya says. She scrambles to her feet and pushes past me, gone.

Wilde looks at me with interest. “Thank you,” she says.

~~~