Page 12 of The Garnet Daughter
I’m unsure of my answer, but for now it doesn’t matter. “We can’t fold back. We have to find another way home.”
August nods, understanding my tone of voice, not objecting or asking more questions, resolving that we will have to brave the terrain in any plan we come up with. “If the beacon is close, we can send a distress signal to Viathan’s fleet.”
“It is not near. And we’ll need to ask permission from the Frithian elders to use it,” I inform him, finally able to conjure logic through my cloudy thinking.
“Alright,” August replies, already sounding more confident in our situation now that I am not falling apart.
“We will go on foot. I won’t risk folding even a short distance. My gift feels different.”
“On foot,” he agrees with a slow nod.
I ignite the lard-covered end of two torches from the cave’s supplies and hand one to him. It will not be a safe trip, but if we start now and keep moving, we will make it to the village to speak with the elders by midday.
“The night predators have finished. It is nearly dawn,” I assure when he looks nervous to take the flaming torch.
“How do you know they are finished?” he asks hesitantly.
“I have not heard prey animals scream for some time now,” I reply. “It is as safe now as it will be. Step where I step.”
His eyes are wide with worry. “Right behind you.”
As I exit the cave onto the mossy forest floor, the sound of the mountain restored to life after a rain-soaked night fills my ears, every insect singing and welcoming me home. However, the reunion is sour. I have not returned after finding my purpose or harnessing my gifts. I have unintentionally retreated, but I will do anything within my means to get us back, if not for myself, then for August.
Chapter
Six
My stomach drops as we reach the edge of the village. It seems like lifetimes ago when I said goodbye.
“What’s the plan?” August stops next to me, interrupting the strange sensation within my body from returning this way.
I stare at him for a long time, unsure of the reason. “We go straight to the elders,” I remember to answer.
“Will someone stop us?”
“I doubt it.” The villagers have known me since birth so rumors of my departure have likely manifested, but I am still one of them. August is also known, first as a representative for the conjunction and again to transport Selene to Cosima. His presence was cleared and welcomed by the elders on Selene’s behalf, who has great favor with them in all things.
I push out of the dense tree line and onto the soft plateau of grass that houses our village as if I have only been out for a single morning foraging and am now returning home. I keep my focus forward, toward the middle of the cropping of homes, until the taller peaks of the elder huts come into view. Some villagers ignore me completely, but the moment I am recognized, my heart sinks.
August is close, this time not following behind in the hostile terrain, but next to me, the back of his hand so near it brushes across mine as we walk in unison.
The closer we get, the more familiar faces tease at the corners of my eyes, their questions to one another so loud on either side, but they do not stop us. They know our destination and who we must speak to first upon arrival.
The wooden door of the main elder home opens with effort, the hinges rougher than I remember. We step into the spacious gathering room, smaller than the one in my and Selene’s home but still upholding the tradition of a welcome area for anyone to enter and take company. Fragrant teas and medicines for the elders fill the space. Their loved ones and assigned helpers are busy with their tasks; it’s an honor and respected position among our people to care for an elder and bask in their knowledge.
We stop in the middle, observing like outsiders. The truth of that hits me so hard, I take a step back, nervous my voice will crack when I announce myself.
A young woman whispers in the ear of Elder Oona, who sits with her heavily lined eyes closed next to her even older brother, Elder Isaac. I’m familiar with both of them. They are of sound mind, unlike some others who approach dusk on this life.
“Calliape.” Elder Oona smiles. “And the Viathan pilot . . .”
“August.” He steps forward and bows his head, unsure.
“Elders.” I climb down on my knees when she gestures with her hand to do so, then bump my shoulder into August’s leg for him to follow.
“My eyes do not fall upon Selene,” Elder Isaac says in Frithian, and it is only then I realize I have not addressed them in their tongue.
“Forgive me,” I reply in Frithian and bow my head, embarrassed.
