Sember (Forestfolk, Book 2)

Chapter 18

At long last we were on our way. I managed to take it easy for two whole days before insisting that it was time to head out. I was restless and increasingly aware of the passing time. The sooner we got this over with, the better.

Jastin said it would take about two days to get to the cave, so we packed accordingly. I didn’t bother protesting when he said he was coming with me because, frankly, I didn’t want to go by myself. Plus, I had no idea where this cave was.

My pack wasn’t as heavy as when we’d left Foresthome, because we didn’t need to bring two weeks’ worth of food. Odavik was out of sight now. I had kept looking back to see Goben’s figure getting smaller and smaller. I felt uneasy leaving him behind, but was glad he wasn’t coming with me on this task. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to him.

I glanced over at Jastin, whose long strides easily kept up with mine. I felt comfortable with him, though I still knew very little about him. He never told me about his gift until I’d asked about it point-blank. I probably needed to keep doing so if I wanted to learn anything else about him.

“Jastin, what do people think about your gift?”

His eyebrows jumped up. “You don’t waste time on idle chatter, do you?”

I chewed on my lip, unsure if I was being rude. “I guess I’m not an idle chatter kind of girl. It’s just . . . I don’t know a lot of Gifted. And most of them have a certain talent or useful ability, but nothing like what we can do. We can conjure elements. I think that scares people.”

He gazed up at the sparse trees we passed. I thought maybe he was formulating an answer, but then he said, “I hadn’t actually thought about it.”

My mouth dropped open. “How could you not? It’s on my mind all the time.”

He looked at me then, indecision crossing the planes of his face.

“Jastin, I’m not a gossip. I’d just like to, you know, not feel so alone. Don’t you feel like your gift isolates you sometimes?”

“Yes,” he finally replied. His eyes were shuttered, but I thought I saw a trace of loneliness there. Or maybe it was just me, projecting onto him.

I waited for him to elaborate, but he just looked ahead again.

I sighed with irritation. It was like trying to coax a nut away from a chipmunk. “How is it that you talk so much with Goben, but not with me?”

“Actually, he does most of the talking.”

That made me laugh. “You’re right, he does.” I paused, then added, “Sometimes I wish I could be more like him.”

He glanced at me. “I don’t.”

“Well, of course you don’t.” I gestured toward him. “You seem fine with who you are. I’ll bet you never wasted a single day wishing you were someone else.”

He gave me a curious look. “No, I meant I don’t wish you were more like him. Do you often wish you were someone else?”

I looked down at my shoes as they plodded through the snow. My questions seemed to be revealing too much about myself. “I asked you first.”

“Well, technically, you didn’t. You assumed my answer, so I posed the actual question back to you.”

My lips pressed into a thin line. Why did he insist on evading me all the time? Was I not worth his time? His trust? If that was how he wanted it, then maybe it was a good thing. The walls I kept trying to resurrect were full of holes. Maybe this would make for some good bolstering. “Well, technically, I’m just trying to have a conversation,” I said, not bothering to hide my exasperation. “Technically, I just want to learn more about you. But if you think I’m not trustworthy or whatever, that’s fine. We don’t have to be friends.”

I stalked ahead, not wanting to walk next to him anymore. I had been excited to learn he was gifted with the ability to command ice. I wanted to ask him if he practiced, if he had a routine, if sometimes his energy felt so pent-up that he feared it might explode out of him. I wanted to know if people held him at arm’s length. If they were afraid to make him mad. Did they avoid him? Did they make stilted conversation around him? Did he feel dangerous?

I guess what I really wanted to know was if he ever felt like an unwanted freak.

But I guess I would never know, because I was talking to a clam.

I was used to spending a lot of time on my own with nothing to keep me company but my own thoughts. What I really wanted to do was run off my frustration, but I had no idea what direction to head in. I was tethered to Jastin, which annoyed me even more. My hands started jittering as the heat boiled inside me. I scooped up a handful of snow without breaking my stride and held it to my mouth, sipping the water as it melted. The refreshing cold soothed me a bit, so I scooped up another handful.

From the corner of my eye, I kept tabs on Jastin to make sure he didn’t change direction. I probably should have walked behind him, but I didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t think I was worth talking to, so I didn’t think he was worth another single thought. The sooner I put him out of my mind, the better.

But I couldn’t.

I could hear his breath and the steady crunch of his steps. I thought of his kindness when he found boots for me, and his gentle touch when he bandaged my foot. I had been worth his time then. Why not now? 

He probably thought better of me when he knew less about me, when all he knew were the glowing tales that Goben told. Then, in the space of two days, I had managed to splash cold reality onto that image. I was rude, temperamental, and hungry all the time. I scorched wildlife into food. I chose independence over friendliness.

I felt it looming over my head again . . . that garbage pile I carried around with me . . . all the Things That Don’t Attract Boys. It wasn’t just boys, was it? It was everyone. It was about me not being a person anyone would want to talk to. It was a pile of Things That Don’t Attract Anyone.

Stop.

I had promised myself no more of these pathetic self-indulgences. Told myself it didn’t matter what Jastin thought. I’d discarded that silly list of undesirable traits.

Then what was this stinging in my heart?

I cursed myself for breaking my own promise. My hands burned as I plodded through the snow. It crept up my arms and spread through my chest, stunting my ability to take a normal breath. The monster rose within me like a tentacle of fire, curling around my lungs and creeping into my brain, heating my entire body to dangerous temperatures. My breathing sped up, and I knew with certainty that I needed to get out of here.

Before I combusted.

In front of Jastin. 

“I have to go,” I muttered over my shoulder as I broke into a run. I wasn’t sure where I was running to, but the tempest inside me was morphing into an uncontrollable firestorm. I tore the pack off my shoulders and threw it into the snow so I could put as much distance as I could between us. 

Only he was running after me. 

“Sember, where are you going?” he called, not far behind me. 

Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he know I was dangerous? “Stay away from me!” I shouted and threw a fireball in his path. 

I ran so blindly that I managed to trip on a root covered by snow. I fell face-first into the drift, causing it to hiss into steam when I touched it. The snow around me melted in seconds. Then I saw his boots standing next to me and my stomach lurched. He was much too close. He was going to get hurt.

I scrambled onto my backside and scooted backward, melting more snow as I went. “Jastin, get away from me! Can’t you see I’m overheating? You’re going to get hurt.” 

He stared at me, mouth parted with bewilderment. Why was he just standing there like an i***t? 

My boots slid in the mud as I tried clambering to my feet. I wouldn’t be responsible for maiming Jastin. The blast could even kill him. I had to get away from him.

“Let me help you.”

It was my turn to stare at him. “You can’t help me. Just get out of here!”

He stepped closer, face serious. “Sember, I can help.”

“Are you crazy? Get away from me!” I scooted back farther.

He knelt, one knee in the mud, one hand extended. “I can help.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” I quavered.

“And perhaps you’re underestimating me as well.” His outstretched hand turned blue. “Sember, you can trust me.”

Frost formed on his hand, growing thicker as I watched. “I . . . I don’t know.”

He leaned closer and whispered, “Let me help.”

Was he stupid? His stubbornness rivaled mine. But . . . perhaps his own elemental strength could as well. The pulsing heat within gave me doubts, but I had to try. I shook with the effort to contain myself, and clasped a trembling hand around his.

He crawled closer, his hand tightening around mine in a grip that only got frostier. His other hand went to my shoulder, carefully pushing me back. He was so gentle that I let him, my elbows sliding until I was on my back.

Slowly, slowly, he moved over me until his body smothered mine. Both his hands splayed across my cheeks. They were cold. No, they were freezing. His whole body radiated an intense chill, like a glacier sitting on top of me. Steam rose up from my face as his ice battled my fire. He was cooling me.

I focused on controlling my wild emotions. My breath still came in short gasps, but his gambit was working. His hands were colder than the frigid air. Colder than the snow around me. Colder than a lethal night-time blizzard. Bit by bit, I began to calm a little. I closed my eyes and my breathing slowed. The burning rage inside settled into a simmer, and the monster laid its sleepy head back down into the mist.

Eventually I lay still, enjoying the sensation of coolness over my body. When I opened my eyes again, he was gazing down at me, his blue eyes unreadable. 

“Thank you,” I said. The words seemed so insignificant. 

He continued watching me, and one of his hands slid up to brush my hair back.

I swallowed, hyperaware of his body pressed against mine, yet unable to tear my eyes from his. “I think I’m okay now.”

He blinked, nodded, and climbed off me. He pulled me up after him, and I busied myself with straightening my clothes and brushing off imaginary snow, which had long melted. I felt so self-conscious that my stomach kept quivering, and I avoided his eyes.

“I’ll go fetch my pack,” I mumbled as I brushed past him. 

When we resumed walking, he periodically glanced at me. I had made a complete fool of myself, and I had no idea what he thought of me now.

After what felt like his tenth peek at me, I snapped at him. “What?”

He hesitated, then asked, “Do you overheat often?” 

“No.”

He hesitated again. “If you had exploded, would it have harmed you?” 

“No.” I was giving him a taste of his own monosyllabic answers. I knew it was childish, but I didn’t feel like discussing this with him. I could shut him out as easily as he had me. If he would have just talked to me earlier, this would never have happened in the first place. 

We spent some time walking in silence. This time, I kept my thinking to a minimum. I ignored my frustration with Jastin and simply examined my surroundings. We passed sparse, snow-covered trees and occasional white-dusted boulders. The large mountains loomed to our left, and I found myself turning my head often to gaze at them. There were no mountains in Foresthome, nor in the plains. They were so big, I sometimes felt like they might topple over and crush me. 

“I don’t think people are afraid of me,” Jastin said out of the blue. “But I do feel isolated sometimes.” 

I peered at him, brows raised at his sudden confession.

“And you’re right,” he continued. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. Like us.” 

I could see the effort on his face. He was trying to connect with me. It seemed no matter how hard I tried to shut people out lately, I just couldn’t keep my walls up. Maybe I was too lonely, desperate to have someone truly understand me.

“Now you know why people are afraid of me,” I said.

He was quiet for a while, then said, “People don’t like touching me.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised at his admission. “Have you ever lost control?”

“No.” He adjusted the straps on his shoulders. “But when your own parents don’t like hugging you, you start wondering what’s wrong with you.”

I could identify with this completely. When even my own parents seemed uncomfortable around me, the self-doubt started early. “I know what you mean,” I murmured.

“Mila was the only one who made me feel normal,” he said.

“Your sister?”

“Yes. Losing her was devastating.”

The sadness in his voice made my heart ache for him. “I’m sorry,” I said, wishing I knew what else to say.

“In some ways, you remind me of her.”

“Let me guess, it’s my hair,” I joked. 

He chuckled. “I like your hair.” He glanced up at it, and I unconsciously smoothed it down with one hand. “Mila was headstrong, and had her own ideas about what was right and wrong. She didn’t care about other people’s opinions.” 

I sighed with disappointment at his incorrect assessment of me. “I care too much about other people’s opinions,” I said before I could stop myself. 

He looked at me with that knowing half-smile. “How many people thought you coming here was a good idea?” 

“Um . . . ” 

“And yet, here you are. Because you thought it was the right thing to do.” 

I stayed quiet, mulling over his words, unsure if he was right or not. 

“You care what people think of you. I do, too. Everyone does. But in the end, you make decisions based on what feels right to you. Not to anyone else. Mila was brave like that.” His eyes grew wistful as he spoke. “When we were kids, she would go out of her way to hold my hand in public, to show people that she was proud to have me as a brother. I know sometimes it chilled her, but she always tried to hide her shivering. She wanted to protect me, much like how you protect Goben.” 

“She sounds wonderful,” I said, sad that she was gone from his life. 

He sighed, and I took his hand without thinking. We stopped walking. I squeezed his hand, pressing my sympathy into it. My own hand stayed steady and warm, and I hoped that he understood my message. That I didn’t mind his touch.

“Thank you, for what you did,” I said, holding his gaze. “And for talking to me. I feel . . . a little less alone now.” 

He took a half step closer to me, and my breath quickened a little. He brushed his thumb across my palm. “I think Mila would have liked you.”

An unexpected shiver went up my spine, causing me to drop his hand. I noticed the hurt in his eyes, and immediately regretted my reaction. He must think . . .

“Jastin, no.” I recaptured his hand. “I wasn’t cold.” 

He dropped his eyes. He didn’t believe me. 

“Jastin, I shivered, yes. But . . . it wasn’t from cold.” 

His hopeful eyes darted back to mine, but he didn’t look convinced. 

“I was reacting to . . . ” Too embarrassed for words, I mimicked his earlier action, stroking his palm with my own thumb to demonstrate.

Fire and ice.

He inhaled at the sensation, his eyes sparking with understanding . . . and something else. 

“I-I’ve said too much.” I dropped his hand again and cleared my throat, trying to quell the fluttering in my stomach. I took a step back.

“Sember . . . ” His voice was thick with emotion, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. 

He took a step closer and—I don’t know why—I panicked a little. I took another step back, and stumbled on a fallen branch.

His hands shot out to steady me, and I could feel his icy grip through my sleeves. I wanted to reach out and touch him. To close this gap between us and—

Wait, what was I thinking? I had to watch myself, or this wouldn’t end well.

I made the mistake of looking into his beckoning blue eyes, and I nearly drowned in them.

I tore my gaze away and cleared my throat. “Um, we probably shouldn’t waste too much time.” 

He paused, letting a breath of disappointment escape. “Of course.” 

A mask descended over his features as we started walking again, and I felt relieved enough to resume breathing. What was happening? How could I be frightened and excited at the same time? This was nothing like what happened with Dozan. I knew that Dozan had used his gift to remove barriers and put heady thoughts into my head. In the heat of the moment, it felt so effortless. Easier. I hadn’t been worried or self-conscious. I hadn’t been thinking at all.

I shook my head vigorously. What was I doing? What was wrong with me that I now thought being with Dozan wasn’t so bad? I hadn’t been in control, and I hated that . . . didn’t I? What was I saying? Of course I hated it. Losing control was bad. People got hurt when I lost control. I mean, look at what happened to Dozan afterward!

I took a steadying breath and got a hold of myself. Right. Maintain control. I could do that.

I stole a glance at Jastin as we walked. Such a handsome profile.

Ugh, I wanted to slap myself. I had all the control of a corn cake soaking in stew.

Focus on the mission. That was the only thing that mattered. Everything else was distraction.

With a lift of my chin, I silently firmed my resolve and kept on walking.