Darkthaw (17 page)

Take the injured bird
.

Matisa thought the injured bird was Nishwa. I look at my foot.
I'm
the injured bird. Least, Isi thinks I am. My cheeks
flush. I'm not worried about how people see me anymore. Haven't been for months. So why's my face getting hot?

“Matisa was sure the seedpod was one of the little boys. She made me promise to follow that path if it were set before me.” His eyes are unhappy. “When you told me the men took Nico, I saw it clearly.”

I study him, sitting with his arms on his knees, his face grave. Seems like he's telling the truth. And if he is, his change of heart and constant prickly manner make sense. Besides, what reason could he have to drag me and Daniel out here?

Still, he's keeping things from me, too. He knows more about my dream than he's letting on. I want to press it, but there's no way to force him to tell me; Isi is not the sort. He's the sort who goes the opposite way you're hoping, just to show you he can.

“So here we are,” I say. “Because of Matisa.”

“She asked me,” he says, like it explains everything.

Something in his voice makes my heart race, and I realize I'm wrong: Isi goes the opposite way when
certain
people press him. Matisa is another matter.

She asked me
.

Desire tugs at me. What on earth? Can't be desire for
Isi—
that's addled. Desire for someone to feel the same about me—do whatever I ask? Kane hovers at the edges of my mind. I wanted him to be sure about me. I was so hurt when it seemed he was choosing his ma and the boys over me. I won't have to worry about him choosing his ma anymore.

The thought makes nausea rise in my throat, smothering the desire.

I push it all away and keep speaking to distract myself. “You don't
think
you're doing the right thing, though.” I don't tell him that I understand. Doing the right thing isn't always clear; it doesn't always feel good.

He shrugs, but his eyes shift. I can see he feels guilt over the way he was with Matisa these last two days.

“You're so sure of everything else,” I say. “So sure what happened with Charlie at that homestead.”

Isi's face darkens. “Anyone could see what happened there. Charlie is exactly what I warned you he was,” he says.

“But—”

“He has every reason to betray you. Kane killed his father. And you are the reason his family was sent out to starve.”

I pause. “But we showed him mercy.”

“That was why you helped him?”

“Y-y-yes.”

Isi looks at me hard, that bleedin' look that asks me to think again about what I'm saying.

And now, of all foolish things, Brother Stockham's gray eyes surface in my mind. The scars on his bare shoulder, stretching across his back. I knew about his father's teachings branded there.

I swallow hard.

Stockham's pa showed him no mercy at all, and Brother Stockham ended up harboring that awful secret, and dying because of it. Charlie had to shoulder his own pa's transgressions when he was cast out of the settlement. But me showing him mercy could save him from repeating his pa's mistakes. Couldn't it?

I flush and close my eyes, trying to focus on the matter at
hand, but all that comes out of my mouth is “It's not what I thought, out here.”

Silence.

I open my eyes and find Isi looking at me. He frowns and hops up. “I'll take first watch,” he says, and stalks away into the woods.

I watch him go, knowing full well he won't wake me for “second watch.” We aren't in this together; I am his burden to bear, and he's bearing it for Matisa. I settle behind Daniel and curl my body around him, shoving aside the hurt that rises in my chest. What matters is that Isi's sudden change of heart makes sense. He's helping us for Matisa. Doing what she asked. But—

Take the injured bird
.

Why did she have that dream? Did she know what was ahead for us? Did she know that not five days into our journey, everything would go to hell? If that's true, why wouldn't she tell me? She would. Unless . . .

Unless she's keeping more than the remedy secret. Mayhap there are lots of other things she didn't tell me.

The frozen feeling in my chest throbs and the dull ache of my foot echoes into my hip. I pull up my head and look around at the dark trees. Used to find them so beautiful. Used to think they hid secrets I couldn't live without.

Now they hide enemies. The long branches are pressing on me, trapping me here, in this unfamiliar land. Bloodied carcasses, madmen appearing from nowhere, horrific weapons.

I wish with every part of me that Kane were here, but the thought of him starts an ache in my heart so painful—

I search for something, anything, that might ease me and find myself repeating the virtues ritual.
I am Honesty. I am Bravery. I am Discovery
. These things have had new meaning for me ever since last fall, but the chant itself feels familiar, comforting.
I am Honesty. I am Bravery—

My thoughts stop there. I've never been Honesty. And telling myself Kane's all right . . .

Well, mayhap I'm lying to myself, like I lied to myself about Charlie. Mayhap instead I should be preparing myself for the worst: that we'll never find Kane again.

Least, not alive.

My breath leaves me in a rush.

Stop it
.

Can't keep on like this, I'll go mad.

I take the image of Kane and wrap it in the threads of my mind and bury it deep, deep in my heart. He's safe there. I'll take him out again after we find Nico.

I feel Daniel's little chest rise soft. I send a prayer to the Almighty that he has a dreamless sleep.

Don't bother doing the same for myself.

THE DREAMLANDS BEYOND THE GROVE ARE DRY
and dusty, the hills cracked with sun and age, rising tall against the deep blue sky. Heat glimmers off them like river waves. Inside the grove, where someone waits, the snow on the trees glints brilliant in the sun. The river winds past, stretching north and south.

Back on the Watch flats, the dead under the river sing out. And through it all I hear my pa's voice, clamoring above the rest.

Make peace with it
.

Matisa is here beside me. She is as before: one half of her living and whole, the other brittle bones. Her movement is jerky as she bends and scoops up a handful of soil and plant. It's the plant that protects against the Bleed, I know. But I can't remember the name.

I lean forward, reaching for it, but she plucks it from her palm with the brittle fingers of her fleshless hand and crushes it into dust.

‡

As we pack up to leave in the morning, I decide to tell Isi the first part of my dream; the part about the grove, where someone waits.

He frowns as I speak but doesn't stop packing.

“It's important,” I say.

I watch him put the pack on his back and adjust it, then head over to Daniel.

“Twice, now, it's felt like someone is waiting there,” I say. “Just can't figure those snow trees.” I pull my pack onto my back.

He picks Daniel up and heads off. I hurry to catch up.

“Isi?”

“Perhaps you should ‘figure' longer,” Isi says.

I scowl at his back and watch him as he walks, off balance a mite with the added weight of Daniel on one side but moving sure-footed, even so. It irritates me that even with stitches in his back and an extra burden, he's faster than me.

I follow him in silence but can't get the dream out of my head. That second part in particular, the one I didn't tell him about—it's eating at me.

“Do you think Charlie took Matisa back to the settlement?” I ask, like I'm changing the subject.

“Not if he values his life.”

I think on this. What he says is true. Charlie was banished. Showing back up there would be foolish of him. No. It's not why Matisa is there in my dream.

Make peace with it
.

Is my dream asking me to accept what I brought to the
people I love when I found Matisa? Life
and
death—exactly as she appears in the dream.

Except, that part about the remedy. What does that have to do with it?

I stare at Isi's dark head as he moves through the brush, quiet and sure.

Should I tell him about it?

I labor to draw alongside him. “It's just—I'm dreaming on the settlement, too,” I venture.

“You are homesick,” Isi responds, like he's amused and annoyed at once.

I frown. “What's ‘homesick'?” I ask.

“You miss home. You are unhappy because you wish to return.”

Irritation spikes through me. “That's not it.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“It's
not
,” I insist.

And it's true. It's not sadness I feel when I think on the settlement, when I think on my dreams. It's . . . like I've forgotten something there.

I've fallen behind Isi. I hurry to catch up.

“My dreams show me things,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Things you don't understand.”

“No. Things I haven't figured yet. Following my dreams is the reason I found Matisa in the fall.”

He stops and turns to me. “That was luck,” he says. “You know nothing. You think the green trees in your dreams hold
snow
.”

“They do,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You are dreaming of
mâyimitos
,”
he says, like he's explaining it to a dull-witted child. “Your ‘snow trees' are just trees that have seeds that erupt in a soft fluff. It is a tree you do not know.”

I stare at him, my face growing hot. I want to tell him he's wrong, but I don't rightly know that he is. Everything out here is new to me. “Well, they don't grow in the north,” I mutter, but as I do, I realize something: me dreaming on trees I haven't seen, with someone there, waiting for me—it's like the dreams I had last fall, when Matisa and I dreamt of each other.

And that's something.

Isi shifts Daniel to his other side and paces off ahead. I hurry to catch him again, but my foot snags an exposed tree root and shoots pain. I suck my air so I don't cry out.

Isi doesn't slow. Course he doesn't.

I want to shout at him, but I take a few deep breaths instead to calm myself. Arguing won't do us any good. “These mah-yee trees,” I say to his back, forgetting the exact word he used. “Where do they grow?”

He picks up his pace.

“Isi?” With effort, I draw alongside him.

He doesn't look at me. “Many places,” he mutters.

“But in my dream, they're next to the big river.”

He grunts. “There is a large grove along the river, just before the crossing.”

“Mayhap we should head there. I mean, once we find Nico.”
If
we find Nico. “Mayhap—”

He stops again and turns to me. “I am doing as Matisa asked. After, I will go back to the homestead and follow
Charlie's trail.” He shifts Daniel again, his movement quick and angry, his jaw clenched. The movement makes him wince. He puts Daniel down. The stitches I put in are pulling, no doubt.

I gesture to his back. “I can help—”

“I don't need your help,” he spits out.

“But I know—”

“You know nothing!”

“I know more than you think!” I shout back, my temper boiling over. I bite my tongue against the rest of the words, but Isi's eyes narrow.

“
What
do you know?” he asks.

I clench my jaw and look away.

“Em.”

I turn my head. “I—I know that”—his dark look trips my tongue—“that deer back there died of the B-B-Bleed. I—” I draw my shoulders back, straighten up. “I know the Bleed is in this creek.”

A flicker of disbelief lights his eyes.

Best to get it over with. “And I know about the remedy.”

His mouth drops open.

“Matisa had to tell me,” I say quick.

He finds his tongue. “She shared this?” he says, like he can't believe his own words.

“Only with me. She needed me to come and—”

“She betrayed our secret so
you
would come along?” Now he's angry.

“I didn't ask her to!” I snap.

“Why
else
would she do that?”

“Because she believes I can help!”

“You
can't
!” He spins away from me, his body pulsing with anger.

“Only because you're too bleedin' stubborn!” I glare at his back. Almighty! What am I doing out here with him? How are we ever going to find our way?

There's a long silence. The poplars creak around us.

“Can you tell me a story?” Daniel's voice cuts the quiet. He steps forward and tugs at Isi's leathers. “Isi?”

“I can't think of any right now,” Isi answers, his voice sullen.