Sember (Forestfolk, Book 2)

Chapter 15

Being stuck in bed drove me crazy. I was used to walking and running and doing things. Now that I was fed and rested, my energy returned to normal levels. The emotional turmoil, however, pushed me above normal. I crackled inside. I needed to move, or I was bound to snap and cause trouble for everyone around me.

I experimentally put weight onto my non-lacerated foot. It felt tender, but bearable. Then I tried the other foot. Sharp pain knifed through it, but the salve seemed to numb it slightly, and the bandages helped. I slid my feet into the boots, and tightened the straps. They were soft and comfortable. Perfect fit. I would have to thank him later. Once I got rid of my bad mood.

I hobbled around the room for a few minutes, getting a feel for the boots as well as figuring out how much weight to put onto my injured foot. I was about to head outside when I spied the bucket nearby. I experienced another pang of guilt as I remembered Jastin’s tender dressing of my wounds. I carried the bucket to the foot of the bed, wrung out the cloth that was still in it, and began cleaning off the mess I had made. I scrubbed until all traces of mud were gone.

I scanned the floor of the room, looking for the mud I probably tracked all over the place when we first got here. I may have been a foul-tempered beast, but I was determined to be a good houseguest.

I found my filthy footprints trailing in from the front door, so I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed those too. Satisfied I had cleaned up after myself, I opened the door and stepped out. Jastin sat in a chair on the front porch. He immediately stood and I raised my hand to stop his approach. 

“I need to clear my head. Thank you for the boots,” I said curtly. It wasn’t the thanks I wanted to give him, but at the moment, it was all I could manage. I walked away from him as confidently as I could, gritting my teeth against the shooting pain. I followed the side of the house so I could disappear from view sooner rather than later. My boots crunched the snow with each excruciating step. Ouch. Don’t limp. Ouch. Keep walking. Ouch.

Once I rounded the corner, I leaned against the wall and breathed heavily. Definitely no running today. 

I looked around. To my left were the backs of other houses, all built in a row along the valley. Piles of wood lay protected by oilcloth, while tools and sleds huddled under eaves laden with snow. The late morning sun had just started peeking over the immense curve of the mountain. I craned my neck up at its white walls and nearly toppled over from the effort.

Immediately next to me, long reams of lumber were stacked against the house. They gave me an idea. I slid one of the skinnier beams toward me, measured out the length I wanted, and commanded white-hot heat into my hand to sear it off. I smoothed and rounded one end into a knob, then tested it out. It was primitive, but it bore my weight well, and I could use it as a cane.

With it, I tottered off to a thicket I had seen nearby. Thickets usually meant water, and I could use a bath right about now. As I picked my way through the underbrush, a bit of homesickness rippled through me. The trees here were different, with branches that stretched out like bare fingers, but being surrounded by their towering presence reminded me of home. It made me relax a little.

I found a small animal trail, and followed it until I came upon a frozen creek. This could have been a perfect bathing spot, had the water been running. I sat on a nearby rock and pulled the boot off my sore foot with a groan. Leaning back on my hands, I stared up at the snow-encrusted branches above me. Icicles pointed like an array of translucent daggers. Everything around me was blanketed in white. Although beautiful, it also seemed so lifeless.

Like ashes left behind by a fire.

My mood plummeted even further at the thought. Fire left behind devastation. Maybe I left behind devastation as well. Maybe I really was caustic.

My thoughts spun in pointless, melancholy loops until my eyes fell upon a sapling, bowing under the weight of its snowy load. Bowing, but not breaking. It reminded me that this forest wasn’t actually dead. It was full of sturdy trees, silently dealing with unfavorable conditions.

I marveled at their stoic strength. Self-pity did not suit me, just like it did not suit these trees. Here I was sitting on a rock by myself, feeling sorry for myself. And for what? Because I had an argument with my brother? Because people were uncomfortable around me? This wasn’t anything new.

I was neither weak nor helpless. I was here, after all, questing in icy lands in search of an unknown source of a deadly, unprecedented plague. I shouldn’t have to remind myself I was fiery and strong. I should simply be fiery and strong.

With a resolute pound of my fist on the rock, I stood up, determined to banish my disgusting self-pity. I would show everyone just how strong I could be.

I would start with a bath, though. Because I wanted to be strong, not strong-smelling.

I slid off the other boot, unwrapped the bandages, and tucked them inside. Then I stepped down onto the frozen surface of the creek. It didn’t take long for me to melt enough of the creek to wash up. Only the top layer had formed ice, while gloriously cold water still ran beneath.

My clothes were sopping wet when I finished, so I concentrated on radiating just enough heat to dry them. I watched the steam rise up from my arms and legs, then rewrapped the bandages around my feet and slid them back into the boots. 

I had just finished tightening the straps when I saw the deer. It was a young stag with velvety horns. It sipped water from the newly melted creek while eying me at the same time. I thought of the basket of food I had wolfed down earlier. This deer would more than make up for that. It would probably cover both me and Goben for an entire week.

A twinge of guilt made me hesitate. I’d heard Siena say “all life is precious” on more than one occasion. She would never consider this.

You’re not Siena, I reminded myself. You’re you.

I also wasn’t a hunter. That had always been the job of those with bows and arrows. The only thing I had going for me was the occasional target practice with fireballs. It would have to do.

I pulled my arm back, careful not to make any sudden movements, and gathered energy into my palm until it seethed with heat. I aimed for the center of the deer, then flung my arm forward. The movement startled the deer, and it turned to run. I watched breathlessly as my fireball hurtled toward it. Although the ball went exactly where I aimed, the deer was faster.

The fireball exploded against a tree, scorching it. The force of the blast knocked the deer to the ground. I scrambled to my feet and raced toward it, readying another fireball while ignoring my screaming foot. The stag was dazed and attempting to stand again, so I hurled the fireball directly at its head, hoping to kill it instantly. This time it worked. The force of the blow sent the deer back to the ground, and then it lay still. 

I approached the body. The acrid smell of burning hair and flesh filled my nostrils. Half the deer’s face was scorched black. Its eye was burned out and crusted over. Bright red flesh showed along its neck where the hair had burned away, and bits of singed fur covered its chest.

I looked away and leaned against a tree, a hand pressed against my chest to keep from vomiting. I had never killed a living thing before. The effect of fire on flesh revolted me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Visions of my charred parents loomed into my mind, and I had to sit down.

I was destructive. And dangerous. I caused pain. And now, I caused death. Yes, I had intentionally killed the deer, but the violence of it really affected me.

I tipped my head back against the tree and gulped for air. Monster. It echoed in my head.

No.

Not a monster.

I shook off my spiraling emotions. The deer was not my parents, and this was who I was now. A hunter.

I stood up, grasped the stag’s antlers, and tugged. It slid a little in the mud. Dragging the deer in this manner would take forever. I hobbled back to the rock, picked up my makeshift cane, and headed back to the house. 

Thankful no one was around, I grabbed the small sled from the side of the house and limped back to the deer. It was quite an effort to haul the corpse onto the sled, but I did it. Trudging through the thicket with the deer on a sled was slow going, but much faster than dragging it across the snowy ground. 

The sun was setting when I finally got back to the house. I opened the front door and both men stood up, faces relieved that I’d returned. Then they saw the sled behind me. 

“Sember, you went hunting?” Goben said in disbelief. 

“We eat a lot,” I said simply. “This should help.” 

I stepped inside, my crude cane thumping against the floor as I limped. My foot throbbed now. I perched on the edge of the bed and pulled my boots off. One of the bandages oozed with blood. I sighed and removed it, then reached for the little pot of salve. Jastin took a step in my direction, and I gave him a stern look. He stopped, understanding that I didn’t want his help.

I applied the salve, took the bandage off my other foot, and wrapped that around my lacerated one. Then I found the apple I had left on my bed earlier, and took a bite. I looked up as I chewed and found the two of them watching me, trying to figure out what to do or say. I sighed again. They were tiptoeing around me now. I guess it was inevitable. The least I could do was be civil.

“Jastin, you can do what you like with the animal. It’s yours.” My voice sounded wooden to my ears. Tired. “I apologize in advance for the . . . burned parts.” 

“You didn’t have to—” 

“I know,” I interrupted. “I wanted to. I won’t be eating through your winter stores.” 

“You have my thanks,” he replied. He looked from me to Goben, who stood uncomfortably by the table, and left the house. He closed the door behind him, and I heard the scrape of the sled as he dragged it away. 

“I’m sorry, Goben,” I said grudgingly. I was still annoyed at him for laughing at me, but I knew my reaction had been a little disproportionate to the crime. “I know you were only pointing out the obvious. The idea of anyone being attracted to me is kind of ludicrous.” Hearing myself say this aloud made my heart hurt.

“What?” Goben’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. “That’s not what I was laughing about.” 

“Well, what then? You were laughing at me, and . . . ” I sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of things wrong with me.”

“Sember, I was laughing because Dozan is kind of a troll. I couldn’t picture him being attractive to anyone.”

This shocked me into silence. Dozan’s gift made him attractive to females. Could it be he wasn’t the sort-of-cute, curly-haired boy I thought he was? He could have been short, round, and hairy, and I wouldn’t have known the difference. I snorted as derisive laughter began to bubble to the surface. “I’m so stupid.” 

Goben sat down next to me. “Volatile, maybe. But stupid? Never.” 

I took another bite of the apple and chewed thoughtfully. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” 

He dug an elbow into my ribs. “What are you going to do, burn me? Not possible.” 

A smile replaced the frown on my face, and I leaned against him. “I’m so glad you’re fireproof.” 

“Me too, Squirrel. We make a good team.” 

We sat in silence for a while, then I asked, “Does Jastin know why we’re here?” 

“I told him we were searching for the source of the plague, but I haven’t told him about Dozan or the cave yet.” 

I nodded. “Okay. I think it’s time. The longer we wait, the more people will die.” I stood, forgetting about my foot. Then I winced and sat down again. “Well, I guess we can wait until he comes back.”