Sember (Forestfolk, Book 2)

Chapter 10

By midday, my pack started to feel really, really heavy. I’d never carried this much weight on my shoulders before. Well, not the physical kind anyway. Goben eagerly joined me with a dramatic exhale when I stopped and heaved my pack onto the ground. He was tall and lean, but not particularly muscular. He threw his own pack down and sat on it, letting out a groan. “I don’t know which hurts more, my shoulders or my feet.”

Considering how much running I normally did, my feet were just fine, but I didn’t want to rub that in his face. I was just glad he’d agreed to come with me in the first place.

I pulled two carrots out of the pack and tossed one to him. He caught it easily and bit off a mouthful. We sat there crunching on carrots in the middle of an empty plain. It didn’t seem real. It felt like the world around us had been erased, and all that was left was the two of us. And grass.

Siena once told me about how much she loved lying in the middle of an open field, just staring up at the sky and feeling nature all around her. I didn’t feel any of that.

“It’s lonely out here,” Goben said, echoing my thoughts.

“I miss the trees.”

“And the squirrels,” he added.

“Especially the red ones.”

He chuckled and made a rodent face at me, making me laugh.

When I was five, I was enamored with squirrels. They were all over the forest—gray ones in one part of the woods, and red ones in another—always chittering and jumping around the treetops. My favorite, of course, were the red ones. I thought they were part of our family because, obviously, the red hair. I would talk to them and give them little seeds. I began carrying seeds in a little pouch everywhere I went, just in case I ran into a hungry squirrel sister. One day I had gotten tired while wandering around, and I decided to curl up at the base of a tree for a nap. My parents had gotten worried and began looking for me. They found me, still asleep, covered in squirrels as they raided my seed pouch. They claimed that the squirrels had adopted me, and from then on, “Squirrel” had become their pet name for me.

“We should get going.” I sighed and stood up.

“Aww,” Goben groaned. “But I wasn’t done committing all this empty space to memory yet.”

I hoisted the pack onto my shoulders and pulled him to his feet. Then it was back to slogging through the endless expanse of grass. It was interminably boring. The sun trekked its way slowly across the sky. Almost as slow as our own progress.

“I don’t think I’ve spent this much time with you since we were kids,” Goben commented. “It’s sort of nice. Boring, but nice.”

“Thanks a lot.” I pushed him, and he stumbled sideways.

“You’re always running off after breakfast. I mean, you literally run off.”

I laughed. “Yes, it’s part of the routine that keeps me sane.”

“What do you do after running?”

“I practice controlling my gift.”

“Show me.” He looked at me expectantly.

“Right now?”

“You have someplace else you need to be?”

Why not? I flicked out my index finger and produced a solitary flame.

He faked an exaggerated yawn.

I flicked all five digits outward, each flickering with its own little flame.

“Cute,” he said, but the slight twist of his mouth indicated he was unimpressed.

“Cute? It took me almost a year to figure out how to do this without making one big fire!” I closed my hand, which snuffed the small flames, then flung a quick little fireball at him.

“Hey!” He brushed sparks off his shirt. “I’m just a bored big brother wanting to see something impressive. What else do you have?”

I thought for a moment. “Well, I have been working on something new. Not sure I’ve got it right yet.”

“All right, let’s see it.”

“Okay, here we go.” I stopped walking and set my pack down. Then I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

“Dramatic much?”

I peeked at him. “Shush.”

My arms drifted away from my body, hands relaxed. I pushed the warmth out in all directions in a smooth, steady flow. When it felt even, I increased the intensity and poured everything out at once.

“Is it working?” I opened my eyes.

His mouth hung open. “Sember, you’re on fire . . . everywhere! Your entire body is a torch! Even your eyes are on fire!”

I grinned, and his eyes focused on my flaming teeth.

“Okay, I’m officially impressed,” he said with wide eyes.

I snuffed the flames and searched the ground for burning grass. After reabsorbing those with my foot, I looked back at him.

His head tilted to one side. “Ever wonder why our clothes don’t catch fire?”

“Sometimes. I guess that’s how our gifts work?” I examined my shirt sleeve. “It’s a good thing too. I’d hate to think how many embarrassing moments I’d have otherwise.”

“Nah, your practice is really paying off. You’re pretty amazing, Squirrel.”

I felt a goofy smile spread on my face. I wasn’t used to compliments about my fire abilities. It was usually, “Thank goodness she didn’t burn the house down.”

I put an arm around his waist for a quick side-squeeze. “Thanks, Goben.”

* * *

At dusk, Goben shot a rabbit with his bow, and we ate it for dinner. He sat so close to the fire, anyone else might have gotten burned. What a funny pair we were. Goben had always been easy going, and we never bickered much as children. But when we did, my parents never had to worry that I might scorch him during one of my temper tantrums. Lately, I’d been thinking what a shame it was that more boys weren’t fireproof. Maybe then fewer of them would be scared of me. I silently added “hazardous to your health” to my ever-stretching list of Things That Don’t Attract Boys.

Later that night, as Goben’s breathing evened out into sleep, I gazed up at the starry landscape above me. The cavernous blue sky during the day held little interest for me, but this. I could get lost in this dark sky. I’d seen swatches of the twinkling sky through the dense trees of Foresthome, and the clearing at the lake provided the best view there, but it was nothing like this all-encompassing expanse. Every part of my periphery was dotted by stars. I felt like I was among them. Was this the connected feeling that Siena spoke of in past conversations? I could stare up at them every night and never be bored.

* * *

The next four days were pretty much the same. Endless walking punctuated with occasional meals. On the fifth day, we noticed the sun didn’t feel as warm. At dusk, when we made camp, Goben shivered before scooting even closer to the fire, practically sticking his hands inside it. I offered to keep him warm that night, if he was willing to sleep alongside me, but he declined.

In the morning, I found him huddled under his blanket and pressed up against my back. The temperature had dipped overnight, and the rising sun didn’t offer much heat. The cold air felt pleasant against my skin as we got ready for another day of interminable walking, but Goben’s arms pressed against his sides, as if trying to ward off the chill.

“Maybe you should pull out your cloak,” I suggested.

“I’ll be all right once we get moving,” he said as he cinched the bedroll to his pack.

“But you’re practically shivering. Just put it on,” I pressed.

“You’re not wearing a cloak.”

“Goben, I’m a walking campfire. You need to stay warm.”

“It’s not that cold.”

I frowned at him. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

I’d never seen Goben like this before. He was always so good-natured. Maybe the journey was starting to wear on him.

“Here,” I said, yanking my cloak out of my pack and tossing it to him. “Carry this for me. My pack is too heavy, and my shoulders are killing me.”

“I don’t have room in my pack for it,” he said.

“Then put it on!”

He eyed me briefly, then pulled the furry cloak across his shoulders and fastened it. “I know what you’re doing,” he said as he shrugged into his pack. “I don’t need you taking care of me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered as I stalked past him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s get going.”

This daily monotony was getting old fast. Something had better happen soon.