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Unfortunately, he hasn’t given me much leeway to ask. And I take it I won’t be asking anytime soon because we’ve now made it to Ripple Hills. There was a wooden sign we passed along the way with the territory’s name, and now we’re lurking in the woods, Caz warning me to stay low. Silvera lingers beside me, her ears perked up, fully alert.
We’re in a thicket of trees, the ground ripe and wet. The land is squishy beneath my feet, like walking on a wet sponge, yet the air is desert dry.
Caz stops in front of a tree and looks ahead. I look with him, and there are hills of many sizes, covered in brown grass. Judging by those hills, it’s understood why it’s called Ripple Hills now. The hills are like waves of the sea, as if that’s what they once were before being permanently solidified into land. Clusters of houses and buildings are perched on top of each hill, and black roads weave around each one, connecting one hill to the other.
The sky is a hazy gray, no flowers or anything of color in sight. Even the trees’ leaves are brown. It’s just like Blackwater, only the dirt isn’t black, it’s brown. There is no plush green grass, no signs of life outside the people there. I see thin cows munching on dead grass near a few farmhouses, and my curiosity simmers, wondering what other creatures are around that I can name.
“Stay here.” Caz’s voice slices through my thoughts as he hurries down a hill with his gun in hand. I bend down, watching as he approaches a house smaller than a shack. The home looks abandoned, but it can’t be because black smoke is pumping out the chimney.
Walking onto the porch, Caz gives the front door a knock. When a man answers the door, Caz wastes no time pointing the gun directly at his face. The man throws his hands in the air and backs away, and Caz invites himself inside, nearly shoving the man out of his way.
“What the hell?” I gasp. Silvera stands next to me, her soft fur rubbing against my leg. I feel the heat of her body, hear the growl forming in the pit of her throat. “No, it’s okay,” I whisper to her. “Well, I think it is.”
I put my attention back on the house, and Caz is coming outside again, holding something black. He’s speaking—to whom, I’m not sure—and then he turns around, pointing his gun at the man. The man trembles in a corner, and Caz points the gun at a chair on the porch. The man immediately sits, and Caz looks ahead, where he knows I’ll be.
Come.His voice is loud in my head, a direct command.
I hesitate, watching as he drops his arms, waiting for me. What the hell is he doing? I’m sure this isn’t the way to go about entering Ripple Hills, especially if they’re as bad as he and everyone else makes them seem.
“Why are we doing this?” I whisper when I approach him.
“No need to whisper. No one can hear you.”
“How do you know?” I carry my gaze to the man on the porch. Up close, he seems to be nearing his seventies, but he’s probably older, and that makes me feel awful for him. The poor man is shaking like a leaf.
“He’ll be fine. I won’t hurt him unless he makes me.” Caz walks up the porch. “Mind if we make use of your place until our ride arrives, Tom?”
“N-no, I don’t mind,” the man stammers.
“Great.” Caz gestures to the inside of the house. “Lead the way.”
The man rises out of his chair and ambles inside.
“Caz, this is wrong,” I tell him. “Maybe we should just go wait in the forest.”
“That’s more dangerous.”
“Than being in this random man’s house? Isn’t he a Rippie or whatever?”
“He is now, and there’s a reason he lives on the outskirts. Right, Tom?” Caz enters the house and I follow him in just as Tom bobs his head reluctantly. I look back before closing thedoor, and Silvera sits outside the house, her back to the door, keeping watch.
“I don’t want any trouble, please,” Tom pleads. “I’ve kept to me self. I swear.”
Caz ignores his pleas, cocking a brow instead. He’s being so rude.
“Why do you stay here?” I ask, and the question sort of blurts out of me.
“I have no choice.” Tom’s eyes glisten as he looks from Caz to me. “Ihaveto stay here.”
“You can’t move to another territory? A safer one?”
“Not allowed,” Caz mumbles, standing near the window. He moves the curtain aside with the tip of his gun, keeping watch.
“Do you need a passport or something to leave?”
“A passport?” Tom’s face crumples with confusion, and he swings his eyes to Caz.
“Enough with the questions, Willow.” Caz turns to face Tom. “We won’t be in your hair for long. Just stay quiet, and we’ll be gone before you know it.”
