Nirrin (Forestfolk, Book 3)

Chapter 10

I didn’t want to be alone in the tent anymore. By the time I felt stable enough to stand, my stomach was ready to consume itself. How long had it been since I’d eaten? I pushed myself to my feet and approached the tent flap.

What would I find when I came out? A village? Another campsite? Were we even in the forest anymore?

Just as I placed a hand on the flap to push it open, someone on the opposite side pushed in. Someone strong, because I went sprawling to the ground.

Fen stepped in, saw me lying there in a heap, and gave me a sheepish smile. “You’re awake.”

“Well, I was. I might be unconscious now. Did you even notice you bumped into something?”

“Sorry about that.” He held out a hand.

I took it, and he hauled me up easily.

“I like that you’re not afraid to touch me,” he said once I was on my feet.

“Why would I be?”

He gave me a pointed look.

I sighed. “Why is everyone here so eager to point out what they look like? You’re different. I get it. But that doesn’t define you.”

“You don’t get it,” he ground out. “Because you’ve never lived it. No one calls us ‘Gifted,’ because no one wants to be us. No one wants to look at us, much less look like us. You, with your normal hair and your normal skin. You could never know what it’s like.”

Stung, I held back a pout. “It doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize.”

“We don’t want your sympathy,” he spat.

“Then what do you want?” I lifted my chin, daring him to tell me the truth. So far, it seemed Tessia was the only one being straight with me.

A conflicted expression crossed his face, reminding me of a lost little boy, despite the un-boyish texture of his skin.

A noisy gurgle from my stomach distracted us both. “Sorry,” I said, blushing a little. “I feel like I haven’t eaten for days.”

“Let’s get you some food.” He reached out a hand, and as always, I automatically took it.

“You know,” I said, once we were outside, “you seem to like holding my hand a lot.”

I meant it as a joke, but the segments around his face seemed to pinken a little, and he immediately dropped my hand. “I just, uh, wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.” He cleared his throat and walked ahead of me.

We were in yet another section of unfamiliar forest. This camp didn’t look as makeshift as the last one. Larger tents formed a circle around a firepit, laundry hung from ropes between trees, and stacks of firewood lay nearby. But it didn’t look like long-term housing, either. The ground wasn’t cleared of leaves and twigs, and I saw travois—wooden frames often used by traders for transporting loads too big for packs. It looked like they were ready to pick up and leave at any time.

A child ran past me, his head covered in spikes instead of hair, while another one chased him, running on all fours. They paid me no mind, but the adults did stop to stare at me. One man even had three eyes to stare with. It seemed like everyone in this camp displayed obvious traits that marked them as Gifted.

“Fen,” I said when I caught up with him, “what is this place?”

“It’s home.”

“But not like Foresthome. Nothing looks permanent here.”

He glanced around. “No, nothing is permanent.”

“But why?”

“It’s how we find discarded Aberrations.”

My brows drew together. “Discarded? By whom? And who still calls you that, anyway?”

He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if rallying some patience. “Nirrin, maybe you’re sheltered from living in Foresthome. Those with special talents, like your fire friend, who still look like normal people, are called Gifted now. But we”—he gestured to himself and the rest of the camp—“are still called Aberrations. We look strange, and are therefore still aberrant.”

I pursed my lips. “So . . . parents just give you their different-looking children?”

“Sometimes. Other times we rescue them.”

The thought of any parent giving up their child just because it looked strange made my fists clench. The thought carried me right back to why I’d followed Fen in the first place. “You think Niralessa is my mother. If that’s true, then why would she dump me somewhere, when you guys go around collecting kids?”

He gave me a long look, full of either sympathy or trepidation.

I didn’t want either. “Can I talk to Niralessa now?”

“Eat first.” He gestured for me to sit on a sturdy stack of wood covered by a tanned hide.

I sat, crossing my arms over my chest, while he ambled over to a sack that hung from a rope. It was suspended from a tree branch, probably to keep animals away from it. After rummaging around inside the sack, he returned with a hunk of charred, barely identifiable meat.

I really should have at least packed myself some food before leaving Foresthome.

“Thank you,” I said, eyeing the blackened surface of the meat for a reasonable place to take a bite. It was as if Sember had gotten angry at it.

Fen sat on the ground and watched as I took a careful bite. “Is it all right?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” My teeth barely made a dent, and I flipped the meat over, looking for a brown surface instead of black. “I was hoping for something a little more burnt, though.”

His brows squished in confusion before he realized I was joking and began laughing. “Unfortunately, none of us are good at cooking. Although that”—he gestured to the charred object in my hand—“is worse than usual.” He glanced around the camp before whispering, “Minocken forgot to get it off the fire.”

“So he’s charming and talented,” I said with sarcasm before tearing a chunk off with my teeth. “What is this place called, anyway?”

“It’s usually known as the Aberration Camp.”

I frowned around my mouthful of meat. “Well, that’s a terrible name. What do you call it?”

He shrugged. “Camp.”

“Not exactly imaginative, but then again, neither is ‘Foresthome.’”

“What would you call it, then?”

I looked around at all the unusual inhabitants. The ones I could see numbered about twenty or so, and each of them would stand out among a crowd of Plainsmen. “Land of the Gifted?”

Fen scoffed noisily. “We do not have gifts.”

“Difference of opinion. But I’ll work on it.” My thoughts meandered to how I’d gotten here in the first place. “Fen, how did you drug me?”

“Drug you?”

“I don’t sleep like the dead. But somehow, twice now, you’ve managed to make me sleep through hours—maybe even days—of traveling. You never gave me anything to drink, so how did you do it?”

Guilt. After dealing with chronically naughty children, that was an expression I instantly recognized on his face.

He dropped his eyes. “You must be furious.”

“Oh, if I was furious, you’d know it. I’m just annoyed and disappointed that no one trusts me enough to want to tell me anything! Do you think I’m dangerous or something?”

“No. But Niralessa likes to be cautious. We’ve never let a Normal into Camp before.”

I grudgingly accepted that answer. “And the drugging? Is that your gift or something?”

He shook his head. “I have no special talents other than this.” He knocked against the hard ridges of his chest. “Niralessa is the one able to put people to sleep with her touch.”

Niralessa, of course! I’d been so focused on Fen, I’d forgotten she was the one holding my hand when I went unconscious. It made perfect sense now. Sort of. “What about that first time, when I took a nap? She wasn’t there.” I noticed his sheepish expression. “Was she?”

He had trouble meeting my eyes. “Well, I sort of . . . led us to where she was waiting for me.”

“I see.” I pursed my lips. But there was nothing I could do about that now, so I didn’t bother with being outraged. “Where is she anyway?” I looked around, hoping to talk to her. Without touching her this time.

“She’s—”

“Now you’re giving away our food?” The catty voice of Minocken interrupted.

We both looked up to find the short-snouted man glaring at me.

“Would you have her starve?” Fen said testily.

A corner of Minocken’s mouth lifted up. “Would that be so bad?”

I set the charred meat beside me and lifted my chin. “You have something against me?”

He turned a cold, dark eye on me. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Then he stalked away before I could say anything else.

“What’s his problem?” I asked Fen.

“He’s had very bad experiences with Normals.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to be rude.”

“No,” Fen agreed. “But I understand it. He’s a good guy.”

“If you’re Gifted.”

“If you’re an Aberration,” he corrected me.

“Whatever. My point is, he can go suck a toad.”

Fen’s laughter was deep and rich. “I like that you speak your mind.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You do? Most people don’t.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not most people.”

I smiled at him. “You certainly aren’t.”

We chatted some more, while I choked down the rest of the “meat.” (It might have been charcoal, I couldn’t be sure.) He laughed at my jokes, and I found myself forgetting I was in an unknown camp full of strangers who didn’t exactly like me.

Before long, however, Minocken came back and told Fen, with a not-very-subtle sneer, “If you’re done consorting with the enemy, we should get to hunting. Especially if you’re going to keep giving away our food.”

Fen shot me a regretful look and stood. “I’ll see you later. There’s a stream that way, if you’d like to wash up.” He pointed, and then hesitated as if he wanted to say something else.

“Come on, tortoise brain.” Minocken jerked his head toward the trees. “We’re wasting time.”

With a sad smile, Fen waved me farewell and followed his whiskered friend into the forest.