Nirrin (Forestfolk, Book 3)

Chapter 11

Shortly after Fen’s departure, the two running boys skidded to a halt in front of where I sat. The boy with brown spikes instead of hair spoke first. “I’m Kam, and this is Resh.” He gestured to his friend, whose legs appeared to be built more like an animal’s than a person’s. “You’re a Normal, aren’t you?”

“Yes, unless you count babysitting as a special ability.”

Kam looked to his friend, a perplexed crease on his forehead.

“I think she’s joking,” Resh whispered.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “It was a joke. Sorry. You run pretty fast, don’t you, Resh?”

“The fastest!” He beamed and ran in place for a few seconds, his bare feet kicking up dirt.

As if wanting some of the attention, Kam spoke up. “I can predict the weather!”

My eyes widened at him. “You can?”

“Uh-huh. These tingle when the air changes.” He pointed to the spikes on his head.

I peered at them, which were unlike anything I’d ever seen. “Can I touch one?”

It was his turn to peer at me. “You’re not scared of them?”

“Nope. I think they’re interesting.”

In response, he tilted his head toward me, which I took as assent to touch the spikes. I reached out and ran a finger up along one of them, fascinated by the tiny bristles lining its surface.

Kam giggled. “That tickles.”

I retracted my hand. “You are both very gifted.”

Kam’s eyebrows knitted together. “No, we’re Aberrations. That’s why we’re here at Camp.”

I frowned, saddened that kids would adopt such a term to describe themselves. “Well, I think you’re both special.”

Both boys grinned, and Resh bumped his friend’s shoulder before saying, “Bet you can’t catch me!” With a kick of dirt, they took off running.

I stared down at the remaining morsel of charred meat in my hand. I was tempted to chuck it into the woods, but since food didn’t seem so plentiful here, I didn’t. Maybe it was time this place had food that was more than just barely edible.

With a resolute nod to no one in particular, I stuck the meat scrap into the pocket of my dress and stood. I headed straight for the three-eyed man, who sat at the edge of camp, gnawing on a root of some kind.

“Hi!” I said, stopping in front of him.

All three of his eyes blinked at once. I noted they were the same brown color as most Plainsmen.

I continued. “You seem like the kind of guy with an eye for detail. Well, three of them, actually. But you know what I mean, I hope.”

He narrowed his three eyes at me, like he was getting ready to take offense.

I was fascinated by how the center eye sat higher on his face between the other two, and each one had its own eyebrow. I told myself not to stare, and put on my best smile. “I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Nirrin. What’s your name?”

“Orlo.” His voice remained flat and humorless.

“Orlo, I was wondering if you could help me. Are you good at finding things?”

His expression changed a little, a touch of pride reflecting in his eyes. “The best.”

“Perfect! I thought you might be the right man for the job.” I led him to a nearby tree, where a cluster of mushrooms grew out of the bark. “Find me more of these, and . . .” I hunted around the base of the tree until I found what I was looking for. “These.” I picked the leafy herb and showed it to him, grateful that the two tended to grow close to each other. “I’m going to make everyone a tasty meal.”

Orlo grinned—probably at the prospect of eating something other than tree bark and charcoal—and went to find a sack in which to collect his findings.

By the time the sun had made its way across the sky, my preparations were nearly complete. I’d secured a metal pot—not as large as the one in Foresthome, but a decent size. I’d also secured a knife from a very reluctant woman with black stripes on her skin. She now watched me intently, probably to make sure I didn’t sink the knife into anyone’s back.

I was slicing mushrooms when I heard the familiar echo of a girl’s voice within my brain.

Nirrin? she said.

“Tessia?” I looked around and found her standing some distance away, a handful of potatoes balanced in her arms. I grinned at her, and she gave me a timid smile back. “Are those for dinner?”

She nodded.

“Well, bring them over!” I gestured enthusiastically, excited at the prospect of making a nice meal for these people. Maybe even winning them over. “I can definitely use those. Nice find!”

Tessia’s smile widened, and she came closer. As she did, the striped woman slunk away, putting distance between herself and the girl.

Tessia’s eyes flicked to the woman, her smile faltering, before turning her attention back to me and holding up the potatoes.

“These are perfect!” Noting Tessia’s faded smile, I lowered my voice. “Was she thinking mean things?”

She lowered her eyes and shrugged.

“Some people can’t help being stupid,” I said. “I’ve been at this for an hour, and she still thinks I’m going to kill everyone”—I directed my raised voice to the striped woman—“with this tiny knife!”

She scowled at me.

Illis is very fearful. She means no harm.

“Illis? She wouldn’t even tell me her name.” I made a snorting sound. “Like I was going to do something bad with it. I think the only reason she gave me this”—I waved the small knife in the air—”was the promise of good food.”

The others are very excited by the idea.

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.” A pinprick of anxiety quivered within my chest. What if they didn’t like what I prepared? Would they run me out of Camp? What then?

I don’t think Fenrook would let them banish you.

I looked at her, torn between elation that Fen would defend me and embarrassment over my anxiety being known.

Tessia wilted. I’m sorry. Your feelings are private, and I intruded. I’m a bad person. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the trees.

“Tessia, wait!” I stood, but she was already gone.

***

“I can’t believe tree fungus can taste so good,” Orlo exclaimed, reaching for the ladle.

I slapped his hand, causing his three eyes to blink. “No seconds until everyone’s had some.”

“Not everyone wants some,” he said hopefully.

I glanced at Illis, who leaned against a tree watching us, her stripes practically making her blend into the shadows. “Oh, they do. They’re just waiting to make sure I didn’t poison the stew.”

Orlo’s eyes widened with apprehension, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

I patted his arm. “I guess you’ll just have to find out the hard way.”

He laughed nervously and backed away.

“What is that divine smell?”

I heard the voice of Minocken before I saw him. He emerged from the forest, his small snout sniffing the air. Then he saw me next to the pot of stew, and his smile disappeared.

Fen appeared behind him, a medium-sized deer slung around his shoulders. With alarm, I noticed one arm was covered in blood. Then I realized it was from the deer’s throat, which had been gruesomely ripped out.

Minocken came closer. Close enough for me to see the hastily wiped blood around his mouth and chin. Had he actually ripped the deer’s throat out . . . with his teeth?

I shivered involuntarily.

“What is this?” he asked, peering suspiciously into the pot.

“Squirrel stew!” I held up a bowl. “Try some?”

He opened his mouth, no doubt about to lambaste me, but then looked around him at the others eagerly slurping up their stew. He closed his mouth with a huff and stalked away, joining Illis by the tree.

Fen grinned at me. “I will definitely try some. Give me a moment.” He deposited the deer carcass at the skinning table and returned, his eyes sparkling with eagerness.

He took the filled bowl I handed him, and we settled on the covered wood pile. He spooned a bite into his mouth and closed his eyes. “Mmmm.”

I felt inordinately pleased with myself.

“Surely, you must be Gifted,” he said, spooning another bite.

I often helped with meal preparations at home. I also followed Siena into the woods sometimes when I was younger, watching her forage for herbs.

I rolled my eyes. “I think anything is better than burnt meat and bitter roots.”

A chuckle rumbled in his throat, and the sound made me smile. “You might be right.” He dipped his spoon into the bowl again, and came up with a smooth, oblong lump.

I perked up. “You got a heart! You get to make a heart-wish now.”

His brow scrunched. “A heart-wish?”

I thought back to when Bren told us the superstition, designed to give children hope, or just something fun to do during meals. Most kids grew out of the silly tradition, but I still clung to it. “The heart was where the soul of the animal resided,” I said, remembering how wide-eyed I’d been when I first heard this. “And now that the vessel is empty, we fill it with a wish, so it can fulfill one last task.”

Fen smiled. “I like that sentiment. Has it ever worked for you?”

“Not really.” I stole a flirty glance at him. “But maybe it’s starting to.”

A pink tint seeped up his neck and onto his face. He turned his attention back to his spoon. “Well, I’d better make it good, then.” He closed his eyes, pressed his lips together as if wishing hard, and then popped the little lump into his mouth.

Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “What did you wish for?”

“Peace,” he answered right away.

“Do you not have peace here?”

His eyes flicked to Minocken, who spoke quietly with Illis in the shadows. “Not as much as I’d like.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

Sensing he wasn’t going to elaborate, I changed topics. “I’m surprised you told me your wish. Most people don’t.”

He gave me a curious look. “You asked.”

“You’re a straightforward guy.” I patted his knee. “I like that.”

He looked at his knee for a moment. “How is it you don’t mind touching me?”

“If you were covered in slime, I might mind.” I gave him a teasing smile.

“I’m serious. Normals take one look at me and think I need to be put down.”

“Put down, as in insulted?”

“More like killed.”

My mouth dropped open. “I think you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people.”

“The Aberrations are my people. We stick together.”

I thought about their temporary dwellings and barely edible food. “The Forestfolk could be your people.”

His scowled. “Because they were so welcoming the first time around.”

“Hey, that reminds me, you never did tell me what you were doing there.”

He dropped his eyes and took another bite of stew.

“Come on,” I chided. “I just said you were straightforward. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

He sighed and set his spoon down. “I was scouting.”

“For what?”

He nibbled the inside of one cheek while he considered his answer. “Other Aberrations.”

My eyebrows went up. “Like, to make friends?”

“Sort of.” His eyes slid away from me again.

Why was he acting so cagey? And if he was snooping around Foresthome on friendly terms, then why would Galen sense some kind of danger? Something didn’t add up. “What do you mean by ‘sort of’?”

“Well, um.” He stirred his stew. “Sometimes we . . .”

I sighed impatiently at his reticence. “A complete thought would be nice. Sometimes we . . . what, like to wear pants on our heads? Pretend we’re exotic birds?”

He laughed nervously. “No, nothing like that.” He nibbled inside his cheek again, but was saved from answering when Minocken put a clawed hand on Fen’s shoulder.

Wait, were those really claws?

“I think you’ve said enough,” Minocken growled.

Fen looked up at the man’s snarling face and shrank a little, nodding in acquiescence.

“Good man,” Minocken said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away.

I frowned. “What was that about?”

Fen stirred his stew again. “I’m not supposed to talk about certain things.”

“What is he, your keeper? You could stomp him in a fight. Easily.”

A corner of his mouth curved up. “He’s like an older brother to me. I grew up with him. Look up to him, actually.”

I gave Minocken’s retreating back a sour look. “Maybe you need new idols to look up to.”

He shook his head. “He’s just protecting me.”

“From me? What did I do?”

“Nothing. He resents all Normals.”

“And you? What do you think of . . . Normals?” It felt strange to be lumped in with a group of resented people.

“I feel the same.” He paused. “Felt the same.” He sipped a spoonful of stew, swallowed, and lifted his eyes back up to me. “I might start making exceptions.”

I barely contained a smirk of glee.