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On my knees and with my head in my hands, I glimpse movement from Arnost. Though the movement is slight, almost imperceptible, it catches my attention and reminds me that right now, Arnost is my only lifeline to June, the only person who may know what happened to her or where she went. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, a glimmer of hope ripples through me faintly. I reach out with a trembling hand and tap his cheek. He doesn’t move so I tap a little harder. His eyes roll behind his eyelids and his lashes flutter. “Arnost! Arnost!” I call out. His eyes open and close quickly and he turns his head. “Arnost!” I shout at him. My voice draws the attention of the rest of the group. Within seconds, Sully, Oliver, Lark and Peter are at my side. Arnost’s eyes open. A bleary haze shrouds his gaze, but as soon as it clears and his eyes focus, he lifts his head off the ground slightly then jumps at the sight of everyone staring down at him. Raising up onto his heels and palms, he scuttles backward a few paces only to drop down flat on his back once again. He winces when his head ricochets off the ground, hard.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Arnost’s voice is rough and gravelly.
Shoving my face inches from his, I demand, “Where’s June?”
Arnost lifts up onto his elbow. “What? What’re you talking about?” His hand immediately touches the back of his head and he groans. When he looks down, his hand has a crimson smear on it.
I grip his shoulders and force him to look at my face. “Arnost, what happened here? Where’s June?”
His eyes dart from side to side for a moment. “I was hit in the back of the head. Something hit me.” His gaze meets mine, remorse shining in it. “That’s the last thing I remember.” His hand returns to the base of his skull.
I know he’s injured, that he was blindsided, but a part of me is still angry. He promised me. He promised me he’d keep her safe. And now she’s gone. I allow my hands to fall away from Arnost’s shoulders and simply stare at him. He sits upright. Leaves and burrs stick to his clothing, and dried blood and dirt is caked at his nape. I rise to my feet and turn in the direction of Sully’s voice when it rumbles from his chest.
“Did you see who did it?” Sully asks.
In the pale light of the moon, I see the shame coloring Arnost’s cheeks. “No, I didn’t see anything.” He licks his lips and looks from Sully to me then back to Sully. “I felt something hit me and then everything went black.”
Rage replaces anger, diffusing from my gut until it wraps barbed tentacles around my throat. “Brom. Brom did this,” I say through tightly clenched teeth, as certain that he’s behind this as I am that I’m standing in the forest with Sully and Arnost.
“You really think it was him?” Sully asks.
“Hurting her is the surest way to hurt me.” The agony of my words leaches the air from my lungs. Gasping, physical pain at the thought of his hands on her, harming her in any way shape or form, chokes me.
“Yes,” I barely manage through the trembling veins of terror, of rage, pulsing through my body.
Clearing his throat, Peter interjects. “Um, if I may say so, the Uganna wouldn’t have left him in one piece, much less alive.”
Sully simply stares, waiting for him to continue.
“If the Uganna were responsible for, uh,” he looks at me sympathetically, swallows hard then proceeds in a soft, almost frightened voice, “June’s disappearance, there’d be, uh evidence. Arnost would be dead, mangled, and June—” His voice trails off, his sentence left unfinished. It’s a good thing. Frankly, I couldn’t handle hearing him say that if any of June’s body remained it would be partially devoured.
Sully nods.
“He’s right,” Lark says to just Oliver. Then to Peter, she says, “You’re right. It couldn’t have been the Uganna.”
Oliver turns his head toward her and nods before he faces us and adds, “It’s got to be Brom.” He practically spits the name, his demeanor filled with such loathing.
“We need to split up and find him now.” The words are ground from me in a growl. “Each of us takes a different direction.”
“He can’t be far.” Sully’s voice is tight, and in the wan moonlight, I see the small muscles around his jaw working as he gnashes his molars.
“What if we encounter more Uganna?” Lark speaks but looks as though she immediately regrets the words she’s spoken. Her gaze falls to her feet and guilt carves her features.
“If there is, there is. I will find my sister. You do what you like.” The words snap from me like volts of electricity, biting and charged, but tact is the least of my concerns.
Larks features collapse, the corners of her mouth tugging downward in one of the largest frowns I’ve ever seen. “I-I didn’t mean it like that.” Her voice trembles with the threat of tears. I have neither the time nor the patience for tears now. My sister is out in the dark forest, Brom her likely captor, and Uganna prowling.
Waving my hand I say to her, “I know.” Then to everyone else, I say, “We have to move. If you see anything, anything at all, call out.”
Sully and I exchange knowing glances. His pain is as palpable as my own. He’s come to see June as family, as his sister. And now she’s missing.
Missing. The word resounds in my brain as I set off deeper into the forest, echoing in haunting wisps as it stretches cold fingers through the dark void of my being. I left June in Arnost’s charge. And for what? So I could watch over Peter.
Guilt, like a living entity, rips me apart from the inside out. Why? Why did I do it when only I am capable of defending my sister with the ferocity of wrath incarnate? The love that exists in a family—whether it’s the family you’re born to or chose—is the strongest of all, the fiercest of all loves. I would give my dying breath, and do it with a smile on my face, for my sister.
Retracing the steps that were just taken when we left the shore of the river, thorny vines lash my arms and tug the coiled locks of my hair. The voices of those who remained only to disburse shortly after me have long since faded. I’m left alone with the sounds of the woods, with my thoughts. Jumping at every snapping branch or scurry at my feet, my senses are heightened. The damp, muskiness of the earth and leaves fills my nostrils and the darkness is easier to navigate. Focusing on my surroundings, I swear I hear a faint murmur, the vague thread of human sound. Pausing for a moment, I listen intently, concentrating hard on ignoring the drumming of my heart. And when I do, I hear a cry. Stifled immediately, it is reed thin and female. But I heard it.
Awareness slinks up the length of my spine. The cry belonged to June. I feel it in my blood.
Studying the ground before me, I quicken my pace trying desperately to recall the direction from which it came. It’s tough though, especially since the sound was so ephemeral. Nevertheless, I hope against hope that my undying love for my sister will act as an invisible thread and pull me to her, guide me. When I see overturned weeds and rocks and, drag marks in the dirt path, I realize an invisible thread is not needed. A trail has been left, a channel carved by an unwilling captive.
Heart battering against my ribs painfully, I ball my fists so tightly my fingernails bite into the tender flesh of my palms. I follow the drag marks, eyes never wavering from the path and senses keen. They veer off in a direction our group hadn’t been, to where the brush grows denser and the tree trunks a bit taller.
“Shut your damn mouth.” I hear a warning hissed, a familiar voice. Brom.
That he addresses June fills me with a sense of relief. However, that relief is tempered by white-hot anger. He kidnapped my sister and knocked Arnost unconscious. I jog, eyes vacillating between the path and what lies ahead of me, until Brom’s burly form comes into view.
At first, I see only his back. Broad shoulders and arms, encased in a generous casing of both muscle and fat are revealed as they move to slam a figure blocked by his body. “Don’t fight me, June. This’ll be a lot easier if you don’t fight.” The deep timbre of Brom’s voice claws through the ether, the gravel quality scraping at my skin like sharpened talons. His words are vicious barbs. He shifts his weight and when he does, I see June. Pinned against a tree with a meaty forearm pressed to her throat, blue, liquid drops of moonlight kiss her skin. Tears have streaked dirty cheeks and her silvery blue eyes, as ethereal and melancholy as the moonlight itself, are wide, pleading. My booted feet pound the forest floor as I close the distance between us, and with each step I take, my rage mounts, twisting into something so immense it assumes a life of its own.
June wriggles and tries to shout against the hand clapped over her mouth, but the sounds she makes are little more than muffled grunts lost in the noises of the night. “I told you to shut your mouth and stop fighting or else I’ll have to just snap your neck.”
Her frantic gaze darts wildly, her pain and fear inciting the deadly beast that has awakened in me, and she catches sight of me. In the second it takes for recognition to flicker in her eyes, a wordless exchange occurs between us. Panic is replaced by determination. Her brow lowers and her eyes harden. Lifting her leg high she stomps down hard on Broms instep. He curses her and loosens his grip long enough for her to hunch forward and drive her fist into his crotch. Howling in pain and doubling over, his hands drop, freeing her as he clutches his groin. June dashes with the speed and grace of a sparrow and positions herself behind me.
“Hello Brom,” I say, my voice as deadly as I feel. “I guess you’re going to get what you wanted.” I pull my sword from its sheath and clutch it in both hands, knees slightly bent and prepared to strike.
“Oh, look at you with your sword drawn. I’m trembling with fear now,” Brom mocks, derision filled chuckles echoing all around us. His laughter pelts through the atmosphere, drilling my eardrums. When he pauses for a moment, a sinister sneer carves his pockmarked face. “After I strip that sword from you and kill you, girl, I have quite an evening in store for June.” He licks his lips lasciviously, and the blazing hot anger that burned tempestuously chills, leaving in its wake cold, calm assurance. Brom will not lay a hand upon my sister. He will die. I will spill his blood and watch as life escapes him, of that I am certain.
“Whatever you say, Brom,” I say with the calm of a coiled snake.
He smiles and pulls his blade from a scabbard at his hip. “I’m going to gut you, girl, and then I’ll have all the time in the world with her.” He clips his chin toward June, ogling her as if she is a side of boart meat and he a starving man about to devour it right before he charges me. Shoving June out of the way, I sidestep him just in time to avoid the pointed tip if his blade dragging across my throat. Instead of my neck, his blade meets with the tangled bush of thorns behind me. I swipe the air and catch his side before he frees himself from the bramble. Brom roars, angry and no doubt enduring a sting from the wound I’ve inflicted. A line of crimson appears, blood trickling from it.
“Avery!” he snarls, his face and tone resembling a rabid animal. He spins and swings. I duck and he strikes again, narrowly missing having my head lopped off. I swipe the space between us, advancing two steps then retreating immediately. The edge of my sword slices his arm, opening a considerable gash from his shoulder to his elbow. Brom hurls a series of profanities at me, a gush of blood pouring from his cut. He releases a primitive sound, what I presume is a rallying cry, then rushes me, his blade swinging wildly. Eyes never leaving his sword, I duck and dodge his assault. Twisting and turning as I evade each strike, my moves leave Brom winded. He glowers at me, gulping air and wheezing.
“Drop your weapon and I’ll let you live.” I make him an offer his ego will never accept.
Wiping his nose and sniffing, he turns his head to one side, as if debating my proposal. He looks to the ground, the uninjured arm and hand that wields his weapon going slack. For a moment, he looks as though he’ll release his grip on the hilt of his sword. But the last fraction of a second before his fingers let go, he lunges at me, cutting the air at my throat. Surprised, I take a clumsy step backward and drive my blade out in front of me. It sinks into his torso until the tip protrudes from his back. I quickly yank my sword free, my hands trembling and my heart pattering a feverish beat. Brom, eyes wide with shock, staggers back several steps. He looks down at the expanding pool of crimson that rings his wound. He mumbles. Incoherent and jumbled, I can’t make out what he’s saying. His upper lip is curled in disgust, replacing the stunned line his lips formed just seconds ago. Collapsing to his knees with an unceremonious string of swearwords, Brom finally falls. Leery that he’ll reach for his sword, I kick it out of his reach and watch as he keels over. I make no move to comfort him and assist him. Instead, I watch with detachment as the cold hand of death reaches a fisted hand into his chest, rattling his breaths. He splutters and breathes raggedly until finally, the erratic rise and fall of his chest stills. His features freeze in an eternal expression of anger. The light has left his eyes, the fire and hate that drove him, yet in death, his expression remains as it was in life: hostile. I would chuckle at the irony of that were time not a critical factor. But Cassowary is still vulnerable, and Uganna still lurk.
Spinning, my gaze searches until it lands on June. Huddled behind a thick tree trunk and peeking out, her lips are parted and form a small O. “June.” My heart breaks for her. “Are you okay?”
She takes several timid steps out from behind the concealment of the mature tree. I return my sword to the scabbard at my back and watch her. She looks around me, her eyes landing on Brom’s lifeless form. I wait in expectancy of a reaction, tears or remorse even, but she rushes to me and throws her arms around my neck. I return her hug tightly, a flood of emotion moistening my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I tell her over and over.
“Sorry?” She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. She sniffles and swipes beneath her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “You didn’t do anything. What’re you sorry about?”
“I left you.” I unburden the heaviness in my chest. “I left you with Arnost, asked him to look out for you while I kept an eye on Peter.” Shame burns up my neck and colors my cheeks. Admitting to my grave mistake stings. Not only did I essentially abandon her in favor of watching Peter, but I also assigned her what she’ll perceive as a babysitter. No matter, the end result was that she was abducted by Brom. And it was my fault.
“You think I didn’t know you asked Arnost to look after me?” June wrinkles her nose.
“Uh, no,” I admit sheepishly.
She chuckles. The sound is soft and sweet. “Oh Avery, you’re not good at keeping things. You’re not sneaky at all.”
“I don’t know whether that’s an accusation or a compliment.” I shrug and shake my head.
“It’s a compliment, trust me.” She places a hand on my shoulder the way I always do to her. “And Brom doing what he did was not your fault.”
“But it is.” Guilt still clings to me like a scum on a pond. “I should’ve been the one protecting you.”
“Yeah, and guess what?” She plants her hands on her hips and doesn’t wait for me to say a word. “Brom would’ve found another way to get at you through me. He wouldn’t have let it go. So whether it was on Arnost’s watch or yours, something would have happened no matter what.”
I’m stunned to silence by my sister’s mature thought process. She never ceases to impress me.
“You know I’m right,” she persists and adds a hint of sass to her tone. She throws her arm around my shoulders.
“Maybe you’re right.” I don’t fully concede my point. I part my lips and am about to tell her how proud I am of her when rustling behind a cluster of nearby bushes demands my attention. Moving away from June and gently guiding her behind me, I unsheathe my sword and hold it in front of me, gripping the hilt tightly with two hands. I take careful steps, advancing with the idea in my mind that at any given moment, a monstrous Uganna will spring forth. The crunch of leaves sounds again, shaking the spiny boughs of the bush. My breathing hitches. June is wide open and unarmed, vulnerable to attack. I won’t let her fall to one. But what if it’s an ambush? What if a pack is descending on us? These and too many other questions plague my brain.
With my heart lodged firmly in my throat, I take several more tentative steps toward the bush. Suddenly, the branches part, and a furry rabbit leaps out. Its nose twitches as it sniff the air then darts off, waddling its round, puffy-tailed rump. It bounds several feet, turns and bares oversized teeth, emitting a hissing noise, then disappears from sight.
“Whew,” I breathe and place my hand above my heart.
“Wow, that’s not what I thought was going to jump out at us,” June admits.
“I know, I know.” Several beats pass between us. “This time it was a rabbit. I don’t want to stick around and see what comes for us next.”
June grabs her bow and her quiver filled with arrows Brom took from her. She shivers and hugs her arms around her waist. “Me neither.”
“Let’s find the others and get to Cassowary.” I take a fleeting glance at Brom, staring sightlessly into the vast navy abyss. “C’mon.”
With my sister safe and by my side for the moment, we return to the path I followed to find her. Brom is dead. The threat that remains comes in the form of Urthmen—both mutant and the variety we’ve battled our entire existence. The people of Cassowary, blissfully ignorant of either of their presences, need to be warned; that is, if it isn’t too late already.