• Chapter Eight

    I was running across open ground, my breath ragged, my steps starting to falter with exhaustion. I almost tripped each time I looked back, but still I kept looking back, afraid of what might be behind me. But there were strong, powerful lights shining in my eyes no matter which direction I looked in, dazzling my eyes; I couldn’t see any farther than a few feet in front of my face. Suddenly the wall was looming in front of me, looking much taller than I thought it would. A lone tree stood just in front of it, tall and imposing, its branches spread and silhouetted against the blazing lights.

    I ran towards it, leapt up into its lower branches, and started climbing. No matter how many branches I clambered over, I never seemed to get any farther from the ground. Looking down, dismay bloomed in my chest, causing my heart to sink, as I saw the grass was no farther below me than when I had started. But I kept climbing, fear and despair worming their way into my gut until I was clogged with them. I was getting no higher!

    Then, with no explanation, I was standing on top of the wall, looking down at the field below me, with the top story of my old home peeking above a line of treetops. Directly below me stood two figures who, somehow despite the darkness, I could see clearly. Li had that familiar satirical expression on his face, with one eyebrow slightly raised and one corner of his top lip lifted just enough to give him a sneering look. Noah gazed up at me with the warmth and love I’d become so accustomed to, warming me inside like a boiling hot cup of cocoa.

    Abruptly, with no apparent transformation in between, the soft and passionate look in his eyes turned to a cold, steely, frightening one. His lips spread into a wide shark grin. Literally a shark grin, with his mouth in an unnaturally stretched smile, and teeth tapering into razor sharp points, fitting together perfectly and looking almost exactly like a shark’s jaws. Then he lifted his tranquilizer gun, only it wasn’t a tranquilizer, it was a real gun; and the barrel was pointing unwaveringly at my forehead.

    Then my feet were on the ground, but I had no recollection of jumping, falling, or landing. Claire stood in front of me, face blank, blue eyes dull and emotionless. She turned and started walking away, and I started after her, but she didn’t get any closer to me. I walked faster, until I was jogging, running, and finally sprinting after her, but somehow she was always just out of reach, even though she never went faster than a walk.

    “Claire!” I shouted, but she took no notice; she just kept going.

    I slowed to a stop as I found myself surrounded by a forest of trees, their trunks so close they formed an impenetrable wall, leaving not a single space for me to squeeze through; I was stuck in this small clearing. Spinning around, I frantically searched for a way out; there was none. I started to panic, when I caught sight of a figure standing calmly on the other side of the clearing. “Viktor,” I whispered, and approached him with relief. I wasn’t alone in these strange woods. “Viktor, how did you—“

    Viktor turned his gaze on me. I frowned with confusion at the look in his eyes—they held none of the softness that I remembered.

    “Viktor?”

    He blinked slowly. “Who are you?” he asked, his words slow and flat.

    I blinked. I was speechless. “I’m… It’s me. Don’t you remember me?”

    Viktor opened his mouth to speak, but the voice was no longer his. It was replaced with the higher pitched voice of a girl’s. “…Who she is. Oh, she’s waking up!”

    My eyes snapped open. Light was glaring into my eyes, and for a delirious moment I thought it was the lamps from the wall. Was I still dreaming? Had I never escaped after all? I panicked at the thought, and tried to sit up.

    A girl’s face appeared in my vision, leaning over me, pushing me back down onto my back. I struggled desperately against her hold.

    “Calm down! We’re helping you!”

    The frighteningly familiar voice made me freeze. I focused on the girl for the first time. My eyes widened. I’m still dreaming.

    She smiled. It was Claire’s smile. Had she escaped after all? Or had it been me that hadn’t?
    As if in answer to my mental questions, the girl piped up cheerfully, “The name’s Kyla. That’s Markus and Jennifer’s on watch.”

    She spoke in Claire’s voice. She had Claire’s face. They were identical. And yet, she was not Claire. “A-Ashta…” Confused and disoriented, I turned my head, seeing my surroundings for the first time. What I had thought was lamplight was only sun shining onto my face. I was lying on a makeshift bed, made of a thick fallen log, the top half rotted away to make a flat surface soft from the rotting wood. Tall, thin fir trees stood erect from the earth all around me, with, thankfully, plenty of space between.

    I remembered my dream and shivered.

    “Are you cold? We put you in the sun so you’d be warm. Markus, give her the blanket!”

    I trained my gaze back on her. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m not cold,” I protested, pushing myself up onto my elbows. Two large hiking backpacks, as well as my own smaller one, lay on the earth propped against a boulder on the other side of a burnt out fire pit; a boy I guessed at being around eighteen, give or take, sat on the same rock. He was hunched over a long stick, wheedling away the end with a jackknife.

    I assumed this was Markus, and I was proved correct when he answered humourlessly, “Well, that’s good. I wasn’t about to give it to you, anyway.”

    “Markus!” Claire—Kyla, I reminded myself—admonished the boy.

    Markus seemingly took no notice of Kyla’s reprimanding tone; he kept on scraping layer after layer of wood from the tip of the stick. Then he said, in a voice equally as moody as before, “We have one blanket. Three of us share that one blanket every night. That girl doesn’t get any more special privileges than we do.” He scraped the blade across the stick, firing a strip of bark violently onto the earth. “She’ll be gone soon, anyway.”

    Kyla shot back, “Markus, you could really try being a little hospitable! She’s not in good shape! She looked like she’d been walking for ages. Weren’t you?” she demanded, turning back to me.

    I opened and closed my mouth several times, nothing coming from my lips. I hated to see them fighting over me, and really, I didn’t need that blanket; I was quite comfortable from the sun alone. “Um… Yes, I suppose, but… It’s… really okay, you guys. I’m fine.” Truthfully, I couldn’t quite remember how long I’d been walking. A day? Almost two?

    Claire stared at me for hardly a second, as if wishing I had taken her side; I wondered if these little quarrels were a regular thing around here, and if she often lost them. Turning back to Markus, she ordered, “Well, come introduce yourself, at least!” One hand was resting on her hip, which jutted out to the side in a posture of both defiance and authority. With her back turned to me, I noticed that underneath a loose denim jacket, her back seemed… slightly off. It was shaped differently than others’ backs, but the jacket concealed what exactly it was. There seemed to be awkward-looking curves where the spine should have curved the other way, and yet she appeared to have no trouble or pain as she moved.

    Markus paused in his wheedling. Then he sighed heavily, set the stick on the ground, and pushed himself to his feet. “Fine. Since I know you won’t leave it until I do.” He approached my rotten log with an irritating quality of inconsideration and displeasure. He stood with a perfect posture, staring down at me with an inscrutable coldness. In the seemingly endless period of silence, I had the opportunity to take in his appearance. He was average height—though it was rather difficult to tell while I was lying on my back on a fallen log, which I suddenly wished I wasn’t—with short hair so blonde it was almost white combed forward and tousled. Though obviously neither of them had the luxury of using hair products such as gel or hairspray, it occurred to me that both Markus and Claire had considerably well-kept hair, despite the fact they seemed to be living in a forest and traveling every day. I figured they must have a stock of shampoo, and perhaps they cut their hair themselves when it got too shaggy.

    His skin was only slightly tanned; I assumed it was only due to being in constant sunlight that he wasn’t as white as his hair.

    But it was his eyes that caught me the most by surprise. Never before had I ever seen eyes this colour. It was unnatural. But then, I supposed, so were mine. Not like this, though, because his were yellow. Not hazel with a slight yellow tinge; not green with a hint of greenish-yellow around the pupil, but purely yellow, the colour of the flesh of a lemon.

    “My name, as I’m sure you heard from a certain someone’s nagging,” here he shot a wry glare at Kyla, who scowled in return, “Is Markus.” He bent at the waist, so he was leaning over me with his face far too close to mine for my own comfort. His yellow eyes—I didn’t think I would ever get used to them—suddenly blazed angrily. “And you have very nice eyes, yourself,” he practically snarled before straightening again and stalking off into the trees. I blinked and blushed, embarrassed at being caught staring so blatantly at his unusual eyes. It was obviously a sore nerve.

    I stared after him for a few seconds, until Kyla spoke apologetically, “He can be a pain, but he’s not all that bad. I think he often covers his sadness with… that. But, underneath it, there’s… I know he loves all of us deeply.”

    I turned my head to look at her, and was surprised to see a sad wistfulness in her pale blue eyes as she, too, stared after Markus. Several thoughts buzzed through my head. What, exactly, did that look mean? Did it just mean she wished she really knew what went on inside that boy, or did it mean she wished for something more? She’d said he concealed his sadness; what did he have to feel sad for? If she did like him, in that way, why did the two seem so… so hostile?

    Quickly realizing I was watching her, Kyla’s expression changed, and she smiled, beaming down at me cheerfully. “So don’t worry; he’ll warm up to you!” She added, “So, what’s your story? You’re obviously one of us, judging by those eyes of yours.”

    I blinked, totally and absolutely puzzled. What was she talking about, one of us? Human? Of course I was human. Self-consciously bringing a hand to my eyes, I wondered what they had to do with anything. “What do you—“

    I was interrupted by a new face appearing from amongst the trees, coming from the same direction Markus had gone. It was a girl, also around my age, with dark skin tanned to the colour of milky coffee. Framing her heart-shaped face was dark brown hair, with a slight hint of red shine, and shot through with streaks of copper. It was long and straight, and swung lightly around her shoulders.

    She jogged across the clearing to stand in front of Kyla, amber eyes hinting at panic, as Markus reappeared from the trees and made his way more calmly to the opposite side of the heap of blackened logs. He packed some stray objects—water bottles, bags of dehydrated food, matches—into one of the three backpacks with a calm and practiced efficiency.

    I looked back at Kyla, puzzled, and the new girl spoke in a soft, quiet voice I could hardly hear. But I could make out the words enough to understand what was happening.

    “They’re all over the place, Kyla, sweeping the whole area in a massive line,” she said. “They’ll be here soon. We have to get out of here, now.”

    So this must be Jennifer, back from watch, I thought, even as a knife of dread was driven into my gut and twisted.

    Kyla’s chin shifted to the side and she frowned thoughtfully as she looked at me, still lying on the log, propped up by my elbows. We stared at each other for several seconds, her analysing, me fighting panic.

    Finally she looked away and shook her head. “We can’t. We have to hide.”

    Marcus spoke up from the other side of the clearing. “If we hide they’ll find us right away. You know that. We have to go.” He hefted one of the backpacks over his shoulder and tossed the other over the extinguished fire. It landed between Kyla and Jennifer with a puff of dust.
    “The painkillers will wear off soon! There’s no way she can travel once they do,” Kyla protested. “And we have no more left.”

    Obviously they were talking about me.

    Marcus glared at Kyla. “Well, she’ll just have to manage,” he retorted coldly. “That or she stays here.”

    They stared each other down for seconds that felt like ages. Kyla clenched and ground her teeth. Marcus stared with a defiant, level gaze. Meanwhile, they were getting closer, and Jennifer was growing antsier, shifting her feet from side to side and wringing her hands. My own heart started beating faster at the thought of being caught, sent back, and erased.
    I pushed myself up into a sitting position and swung my legs over the side of the log. “I can manage. We have to run.”

    Kyla swung around to face me, disbelief written all over her face. “Have you ever woken up after being flooded with their sedatives?”

    I nodded. “Yes, I have, and it’s brutal. But anything is better than being caught by them.” I put as much determination in my voice as I could muster, hoping my voice wasn’t shaky with fear.

    “They’re getting closer,” Marcus commented impatiently.

    Kyla looked from me to Markus to Jennifer and back to me. Finally she sniffed, shook her head, and said, “Fine,” as she bent to pick up the bag Markus had thrown. I stood, swaying slightly for a second, then walked around to my own backpack, which still leaned against the rock. I could feel Kyla’s watchful gaze on my back as I stooped to grab one of the straps. When I straightened up though, dizziness sloshed through my brain, and I had to put a hand on the rock to steady myself. Glancing furtively over my shoulder, I saw Kyla shake her head, mutter something under her breath, and turn away.

    When both straps of the backpack were slung over my shoulder, I turned around to face my three companions. “Let’s go,” I said quickly, and strode across the clearing, eager to get out of the small campsite and far from the search party. I heard the others’ footsteps falling in behind me, and we weaved through the trees as quickly as we dared while making a minimal amount of noise. The amount of crashing and snapping my own feet made on the forest floor compared to theirs made me feel self-conscious; it made me aware of the experience they possessed and I lacked. What if they got caught because of me and my clumsiness? I frowned to myself and focused all my concentration on placing each of my shoes carefully in front the other.

    For a long while, the only sound was the gentle swishing of leaves above, the songs of countless birds in the trees, and the soft crackling of needles under our soles. A squirrel somewhere above our heads let out a long string of clicking chirps, the sound soon disappearing into the distance as it fled through the forest. Every once in a while, a light breeze would blow through the woods, and we could hear the tiny scraping sounds of the branches knocking together.

    It was lovely and peaceful, but none of it helped to ease my tension. I was constantly wondering how far behind our hunters were, or if they had gotten closer. I wondered if they would see which direction we’d gone and would pick up our trail. If that happened, the chances of catching up to us would be significantly higher. I swallowed nervously as the thought entered my mind. One foot in front of the other. Focus. One foot in front of the other.
    Reaching another small glade in the trees, I glanced back at the faces behind me. To the right, Markus stared stonily ahead, giving almost nothing away. His slightly furrowed brow and tightly clenched jaw, though, betrayed a deep concentration; I imagined he would be running through quick calculations and playing out scenarios in his mind’s eye.

    To my left, Kyla watched me warily, ready to jump to my defence at the first sign of a lapse in my health. I smiled at her to let her know I was okay, but my anxiety must have made it look tight and grim. She smiled back and gave a little nod, though I noticed she still chose to keep a careful eye on me.

    Almost directly behind me and slightly to my right walked Jennifer. I craned my neck around to look at her, and for a split second our eyes met, before she stepped neatly over a tree root and shifted her gaze straight ahead. Almost tripping over a root myself, I kept my eyes ahead as well. Jennifer’s expression, in a way, had been even more disconcerting than Markus’ cold, unfriendly features. I could tell she was thinking, but it was impossible to tell what she was thinking about. It was like staring into a murky, swampy puddle. You knew that there was something below, but the film on the surface was too thick to make out what it was. At least with Markus I could see what he was feeling.

    No one seemed willing to break the stressed silence, but finally Markus came to an abrupt halt and said, “Jennifer needs to go back to check on them.”

    Jennifer and Kyla stopped and walked back to stand by Markus; the three of them stood in a triangle formation, facing each other for easier discussion. Unsure what to do, I hung back uncertainly until Kyla beckoned me to join them hardly a second later. Gratefully, I did so, and we formed a square, with Markus on my right, Kyla on my left, and Jennifer straight ahead.
    Jennifer was in the process of sliding her arm out from the strap of the backpack when Kyla piped up. “I could just fly up and get a bird’s eye view,” she suggested. “It would be faster.”
    I frowned at her in confusion. Fly? On what? Did they somehow have a little plane contraption somewhere?

    The others seemed to think nothing unusual of this, for Markus immediately retorted curtly with, “They’d shoot you out of the sky before you even know they’re there.”

    “I’ll fly higher than they can shoot.”

    “You won’t be able to see them.”

    “Then give me the binoculars.” Kyla’s voice was swiftly growing more and more aggravated.
    Markus’, however, stayed as cold as ever, perhaps even more so, and it was slightly quieter than usual, too. “We don’t have them anymore, remember? You dropped them in the middle of the lake last time you went flying with them.” His tone suggested he hadn’t been happy about that particular incident, and still wasn’t.

    They glared heatedly at each other, in much the same manner as the dispute over the blanket issue. Then Kyla broke down and looked away, her blue eyes burning with resentment at her loss. “If I had your eyesight,” she muttered, “I could do it.”

    I felt like I was missing some vital information.

    Remarkably, and to my amazement, some of the edge in Markus’ voice lifted. He almost sounded kind. “But you don’t have my eyesight,” he said, “Or my hearing, or my smell. If I had wings, I could do more for us, too. But we don’t always get everything. So, Jennifer’s our best shot for this.”

    I hardly heard the last half of his speech. I was caught up on the ‘wing’ part. Was Markus implying that Kyla had wings? I supposed it would add up with the whole conversation on flying, but my mind still had trouble wrapping itself around the possibility.

    When I returned my focus to my surroundings, Kyla was taking the backpack resignedly from Jennifer. Markus, though, intercepted the transfer and took the backpack himself. “Kyla, you can go scout ahead for an escape route or anything that might prove useful to us.” It wasn’t a question; it was an order, delivered in a brusque, authoritative manner. There was no trace of the softness I’d heard in him just a few seconds ago. Now he was speaking like he was accustomed to ordering the two of them around; I found this quality even more irksome than his hot temper and outward appearance of cold indifference. I had a feeling he and I would have a similar relationship to that of me and Li.

    That is, if I would be sticking with them for a while. After this little bout was over, I still had to get to the city, and if they weren’t headed that way, I supposed we would have to part ways. I just hoped I wouldn’t get lost if it came to that.

    Kyla stared at him, looking like she had a retort on the tip of her tongue. She must have thought better of it, because she clamped her mouth shut and slid her arms out of the sleeves of her blue denim coat. As she wordlessly handed the coat to Markus and took a few steps back, I stared slack-jawed at what had lain beneath it. She, indeed, had wings. They were beautiful too, coated in long, sleek, royal blue feathers, and as she unfurled them, the feathers shone a fluorescent, shimmering aquamarine, like pearlescent paint. How was this even possible?

    She must have seen me staring with a thoroughly awed expression, because her moodiness appeared to lift and she smiled at me and winked just before lifting off the ground with a powerful downward thrust of her wings. My mouth still hung open as I watched her ascend, above the treetops now, and then she was gone, scouting ahead from the air. All that issued from my throat was a strangled, choking sound. This was not happening. There was no way this could ever possibly be happening.

    Suddenly Markus’ voice penetrated my astonished daze. “Well, are you going to just stand there or are you coming with me?” he demanded harshly. I sensed he had developed a strong dislike for me, and I him. “Personally, I couldn’t care less what happens to you, but if you get caught I don’t want you blabbing our existence to everyone.”

    I spun around, ready to make a retort and start an argument, but I quickly decided I could at least try to be a little more civil than him. I strode across the space between us—Jennifer had already disappeared—and extended a hand. The gesture was kind, but the quick, jerky movements and smouldering glare on my face betrayed my anger and repugnance. “I can take that extra bag for you,” I proposed, my words clipped and my offer coming out more as a low snarl than a gesture of peace.

    “No,” he replied. “It’s quite all right.” And he slung the strap over his shoulder, the flat side of the bag resting against the side of the other. It looked awkward and hard to carry, but I wasn’t about to insist. If he wanted to suffer because of his own stubbornness, it was completely fine with me.