“It’s too quiet,” one of the men whispers, his gruff voice tight with concern—a thorn in my moment of peaceful reprieve. “Something feels …off.”
I think back to that dark shape I saw from the boat, chest tightening.
I peel up, like gently easing my roots from soil, and study the huddle of men clinging to metal-tipped spears, stealing nervous peeks at the trees.
Looking past them, I still.
From the cove, the land above looked like a lush, fertile oasis. But from up here on the edge of it all, I can see that the wild, overgrown foliage is hiding the remnants of a scorched town reduced to nothing but scattered blue rocks and half-standing walls.
Some of the larger trees are charred skeletons, hosts for loose vines that boast big, blue flowers spewing a burst of red anthers that look like flaming pupils.
There’s a cleft in the jungle roof allowing dull, late-afternoon light to etch a path through the gloom—a path that’s well-worn compared to the rest of the underbrush.
Cainon offers a hand.
I ignore it and shove to a stand. “What happened here?”
He looks around as though he only just noticed the carnage, then rips a flower off one of the vines. “Blight got in.”
The torn stem weeps a red tear thatdrips.
Drips.
Drips.
“So … the entire community was torched?”
“Had no choice,” he mutters, and I see that burning ship. See the way the rioting flames committed it to a watery grave.
I hear those distant screams—wild and hopeless.
The haunting silence that followed.
“Such a shame. A lot of our fresh produce came from here.” He motions toward a half-standing pulley system protruding off the edge of the cliff. “Not to mention the acres of palm sugar crops that fell to the fire.” He looks at the flower in his hand for a long, hard moment. “This is the reality of being confined to a small canvas of livable land.”
I frown, thinking of the maps my curious eyes have traveled over time and time again. “But youhaveland. Not to mention hundreds of islands scattered across the ocean.”
“Infertileland.” He tosses the flower at the dirt, and it takes all my willpower not to pick it up and stash it away for safekeeping. The thought of all that color leaching away until it’s nothing but a brown smear in the soil hurts.
He jerks his chin at my sack. “Boots, Orlaith. Before we go any further. We have snakes—poisonous ones.”
Zane offers me a pout from his spot cross-legged on a stone, obviously listening in.
I return the gesture, digging into my sack and stuffing my feet into the claustrophobic hollows that cling too close to the backs of my heels, instantly mourning the soil’s warm comfort.
“Let’s get moving,” Cainon says, voice raised enough for everyone to hear. “There’s a brash pack of Irilak that have taken up residence in these ruins, but if we’re quick, we can make it to Blue Hollow before the light fades.”
The men murmur between themselves, lumping bags on their backs before they begin filing after Cainon.
It’s hard to force my feet to move.
Pack.
Hauling the sack over my good shoulder, I follow him, scouring the deep pockets of shade for any sign of life.
I should be afraid, knowing what they’re capable of—having seen the leeching doom firsthand the many times I dropped mice over my Safety Line.
Shay’s special, our relationship cultivated over years of gathered trust and understanding, and I have no doubt he’s the exception to the rule. I have no doubt that the Irilak in these parts are just as deadly as Kai insinuated when we flicked throughTe Bruk o’ Avalanstetogether what feels like a lifetime ago.
