This trek into the Blight has been even worse than I
imagined. Much worse than that trip when I was six.
It’s not just that it’s colder (though it is), but the
Winter Spirits are more relentless. They now swarm
our sled in a near-constant frenzy of flurrying
attacks. Surge and hurl their icy weapons our way.
The Spirits smell Giant blood.
And they are thirsty for it.
Da suffers the brunt of the assaults since he’s at the front,
driving the reindeer. Ma and I cower in the covered back.
Even now, a Winter Spirit dives at Da’s arm. He cries
out, nearly dropping the reins. But he keeps control.
Still, I see the tension in his jaw, the way his teeth
gnash, how the arm stays slightly bent, his ragged
breathing. All signs that the Spirits are winning.
I focus on my garden’s song and pray it will save us.
BROB
Our Chance
We’ll hide out in my garden, just Ma and Da and me.
No greedy kings to answer to. No rebel forces to fight.
No friends and neighbors to betray us first chance they get.
The rest of the whole wide world can turn into
a big fat bucket of ice cubes for all I care.
Just Ma and Da and me.
Only ourselves to worry about.
Winter has beaten us down. Broken us.
muscles ache bones creak vision blurs
Da (once larger than life) now seems shriveled. He
hunches in the front of the sled, battling brutal winds.
Ma huddles next to me, her boisterous
voice displaced with unsettling silence.
The garden’s our chance. Our only chance.
I just have to get us there.
No problem at all …
right?
LYRIANA
Coming for Us
Zave sleeps
restlessly beside me,
face pale,
breath wheezing,
strained.
We had to make camp
even earlier
than usual today.
He was nauseated,
dizzy.
I was lucky
to find a crevice
between two
hulking boulders.
The crack is just
wide enough for our tent,
protects us from
Winter’s raging storm.
The garden’s pull
has gotten stronger.
We must be getting close.
Still, the finale to this
journey’s song feels
out of reach.
I should try to rest.
Preserve my strength.
But it is hard to sleep
with wind’s
wild howls
echoing through
the canyon.
Winter is
coming for us.
Shivering,
I bundle up inside
my sleeping furs.
Pull them to my chin,
as if furs can
stifle my fears
and keep the night
away.
Another howl
and this one sounds …
That is only wind
whistling through
snowbanks,
is it not?
But there it is again.
An eerie
YOWL
that sends
~~electric fear~~
racing through me.
I have not heard
those sounds since
the night the rebels,
the Hands of Humanity,
came to Lute’s Hollow
seeking shelter.
Since the night
they led Giants
right to us.
Giants … and worse.
I pull my
sleep sack up
until it touches
my nose
and then
I
do
not
move
another
inch.
My entire body is rigid,
poised,
all of me
straining to hear …
This time
one HOWL
is answered
by another
is answered
by another
is answered
by a whole chorus
of howls and yowls.
A caterwauling
crescendo.
That is not the wind whistling.
Those are
Winter wolves.
And their chorus
is getting closer.
LYRIANA
Echoes of the Past
I lie frozen
as the howls
approach.
Send a prayer up to
The Composer
that our tent
is tucked away
enough to be
hidden.
Try hard not to think
about the angry
red crescent moons
on either side
of Zave’s ankle,
a memento from
the last time
Winter wolves
crossed our path.
I try but fail.
LYRIANA
SIX MONTHS AGO
Life on Fire
Smoke
clouded my eyes
choked me.
Could not breathe.
Could not think.
Had to get to Mama’s
store of Fermata
before
the work of years
melted
back into
the earth.
We could not leave
our key
to the gardens
behind.
Outside
rebels screamed
Giants grunted
Winter wolves howled.
None of that mattered
only the wall
of blazing heat
in front of me.
Heat that
scorched my skin
scalded my eyes
scraped my lungs.
Could not breathe.
Could not think.
Until …
Another scream,
this one
familiar.
No time to breathe.
No time to think.
One fleeting glance
at the pile
of melting Fermata discs
before
I left them behind.
I turned and ran
out of our
smoke-filled cottage
into
chaotic
night.
LYRIANA
SIX MONTHS AGO
Battle with a Beast
A Winter wolf
clamped down on
Zave’s leg
with massive jaws.
The beast dragged
my brother
toward the woods
as Zave screamed
and clawed uselessly
at the ground.
I sent up a prayer
for Mama, wishing
she were here.
But she had gone
to fetch Marten
from his house
down the road.
She had wanted to
protect him.
But we were the
ones who needed
protecting now.
Heartbeat hammering
in my throat,
I grabbed a
burning branch
from the firewood pile
stacked next to the house.
Bark seared into skin.
I held tight.
A feral cry escaped
me as I lunged
toward the wolf,
swung the branch
with all my might.
Hit a shoulder,
but the wolf merely
growled and fixed
its icy white eyes on me,
chomped down harder
on my brother’s leg.
Zave shrieked,
an anguished sound
that ripped my world open,
left only a raw wound
where my heart
should have been.
I raised the blazing
branch high,
smashed it down
on the wolf’s head.
The scent of singed fur.
A squealing cry.
The wolf dropped
Zave’s leg
and rounded on me
with a snarl.
I screamed,
“RUN!
Find Mama!”
But Zave could only crawl away.
I lunged at the creature,
branch in hand.
The wolf was leery
of flames after
feeling their sting,
but it held its ground.
I cursed the rebels
who brought the beasts.
Winter wolves
are more dangerous
to Giants than Humans
because Winter Spirits
feed the wolves’ fury
and add venom
to their fangs.
But that did not mean
a Human girl
was any match
for an enraged wolf.
Especially a girl
with a wisp of
Giant blood flowing
through her veins.
Zave whimpered
and the wolf
turned his way.
Had to act
or lose my brother.
I darted to the
still-blazing cottage.
Whirled in front
of the open door.
Let out a war cry.
“Come and get me, beast!”
It worked!
The wolf leaped.
I spun to the side,
and the creature
skidded
through
the open doorway.
I slammed the door,
locking the beast inside.
The wolf would surely
find a way out,
but by then Zave and I
would be long gone.
I tried not to shudder
when I heard a hungry howl.
LYRIANA
PRESENT DAY
Prey
The sounds are closer now.
snuffling
scrabbling
scratching.
Claws on ice.
So close.
Much too close.
Even closer.
Right next to
the tent.
Right next to
my head.
Only a thin reindeer skin
separates us
from the creature outside.
The rasp of its breath.
A growl that sets my teeth on edge
and rattles deep in my bones.
Zave’s eyes fly open.
He shoots up
in his sleeping furs
with a whimpering cry.
I reach to still him,
but it is too late.
An eerie howl echoes
through the crevice;
once a sanctuary
from the brutal storm,
now the small space
snares us like a trap.
The wolf snarls and snaps
at the back of the tent,
pushing so hard I can see
the outline of
its gaping mouth.
I spring into action.
Grab our pack
and sleeping furs.
Pull Zave
to the front of the tent.
The wolf tears a hole
big enough to reveal jaws
filled with
razor-sharp teeth.
Our scent sends
the creature into a frenzy.
It slashes and claws
at the back of the tent
as I struggle to open
the ties at the front.
Just as I pull the flap open
the wolf lunges forward
and we scramble backward
out of the crevice
into the cold.
The wolf tries to follow
but gets tangled
in the skins and poles
of our tent.
It growls and snarls
and struggles,
but each move only wedges
the mess of tent and beast
more firmly in
the crevice.
I grab Zave’s hand.
We run
deep into the night
far away from the distant cries
of more Winter wolves
coming to accompany
their comrade in the hunt.
LYRIANA
Desperation
No tent
No fire
No rest
Winter wolves
howling in the distance.
Searing, ice-cold pain
ripping through
my chest with each breath.
Follow the tug of
Orphan’s Garden.
Let its song sing
to your soul.
It feels so close now.
Please, let it be close.
Sixteen weeks
we have been traveling
Zave and I.
Our journey ends tonight,
one way
or another.