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000.154.04.23.11

“Did you do that?” I breathe.

He drops my hand. “Of course not. Do you think I want my head chopped off?”

I gulp. “H-Head chopped . . . off?”

“That’s what they do if you kill a tree. Then they bury you at its base in a cage made from the dead tree’s branches.”

A blossom blows toward my feet, but I can’t seem to move. The albinos are closer. My heart twists like a wrung rag. “It must have happened during the windstorm.”

“Parvin, they’re going to think we did it,” Jude hisses.

“But we didn’t.” I straighten. “Black and Ash can vouch for us—there’ve been strong winds through the night.”

“Do you want to risk that? Black held you down when you were innocent last time.”

No need to remind me. Alder cut off my hand. If he thinks we killed their dogwood, he won’t hesitate to kill us. “I need to get my belongings.” My voice shakes. Maybe I can talk to Alder first and explain.

“I’ll help.”

I stumble across the mossy forest floor into the healing hut and throw my few possessions in my pack. Jude lifts it onto my shoulders. He is tying the flap shut when shouts drift from the direction of the knoll.

On a whim, I say, “Grab my Bible out of there.”

“We don’t have time.”

Time. We’re always running out of time—in the West and the East. “Please, Jude.” I bounce up and down on my anxious toes as he fiddles with the flap. My hand rubs my throat.

God, oh God. You don’t want us to die like this, do you? I’m acutely aware that God can and will do whatever He wants. Please don’t kill me!

Jude thrusts my Bible into my hand. We sprint out of the hut and veer toward the edge of the village opposite the dogwood tree. I run into Black and Ash’s hut before Jude can protest. They are both still in bed, holding their baby.

I halt, staring at them, embarrassed that I interrupted. Pushed by the gnawing pressure of dread, I ask, “How’s the baby?”

“Hello, Parvin.” Ash smiles, nestling the sleeping baby in her arm between the two of them. I think back to her care for me. She will make a wonderful mother. “Cedar is perfect.” She strokes the baby’s face. His closed eyelids are red as fire and his thin shock of hair looks bleached, even against his pale skin.

“You named him Cedar?” Poor kid.

“After the Red Cedar tree,” she says. Black watches me with a stern look.

Jude steps into the hut without an invitation. “We’re leaving.”

Ash’s lips part and she looks at Jude. Something in her posture weakens and her face falls. I speak in a rush, trying to word it in a less brutal manner. “The pink dogwood tree is broken, I think it’s from the windstorm, but Alder might think we did it.”

Black sits straight up in the bed, alert, like he’s ready to spring after us.

“I want you to have my Bible.” I inch toward the doorflap. “I know it’s not what you believe, but the first part shows how God intended us to live on this earth. It shows life before brokenness. There’s so much more in there you need to know. Please read it.”

Ash’s eyes are wide. “No. We can’t—”

“You must! It’s a gift. Thank you, Ash. I really—” but my voice won’t let me finish. Tears well up. “Good-bye.” I toss the Bible onto the bed.

Jude and I run out of the village. White dogwood flowers paint the forest floor, fallen from the storm. My footsteps crush twigs and plants beneath me. I hope I don’t have to atone.

We crash through bushes covered in remnants of morning rain. Water droplets explode off the wet leaves, showering our faces. I wipe my face with my hand, opening my eyes as I run straight into an albino. He falls backward. I tumble to the side with a shriek.

Alder.

Another albino stands behind him, balancing the log Alder dropped. I scramble to my feet as a third albino parts the bushes behind me.

“The pink dogwood,” he exclaims to Alder. “It’s dead!”

I bolt.

“Parvin?” Alder shouts.

“Jude!” I push through thick branches and force my weakened legs to move. “Jude!”

He’s there, holding out a hand for me. I grasp it like a lifeline and we run. Sounds of slapping leaves and cracking underbrush follow. I imagine Alder gearing up to hurl his axe straight into my fleeing back.

A young girl’s voice yells from behind. “Jude-man! Parvin! I’m coming with!”

I slow my pace to make out the tiny form. Willow. Why is she coming? She has nothing to fear from the other albinos and we have no direction in our flight.

“Go back,” Jude shouts at her. He’s faster than me and pulls me along. I nearly trip as we break from the forest to a long stretch of plain. It’s so bright, I squint and run even more mindlessly, no longer dodging trees.

A loud snap of wood breaks the air and I look back. Willow is on the ground, a small young pine tree split in half beneath her body at the edge of the forest. She throws a wild glance over her shoulder then stumbles after us.

“Willow!” Alder shrieks from the forest, kneeling beside the pine as she flees. Now we have to take her with otherwise she’ll have to atone.

I am speed, running across this flat treeless ground. Free. Weightless. But the feeling is fleeting when the ground slants down and reveals a wide canyon cutting the ground in half, like a knife through a block of cheese.

“Where do we go?” I shout, still a hundred yards away.

“The bridge.”

My running jolts my vision too much to locate the bridge.

“Jude-man,” Willow screams.

Jude looks back and I stumble to all fours. My left arm crumples from the pressure on my wound and my face scrapes the weedy ground. The other albinos, including Alder and Black, exit the forest running. Willow has a small lead and the gap is closing fast. Jude and I approach the edge of the canyon.

“Where’s the bridge?” Hysteria slithers under every inch of my skin. The albinos still have their axes.

Jude points. “There.”

Twenty yards to our right, a thick rope is mounted to the ground with metal prongs hammered into the dirt. The rope is strung taut across the hundred-foot gap.

“That’s not a bridge! That’s a rope!”

Jude skids to a halt, mere feet from the rope. He stares at me with what looks like anger and panic. “You can’t . . . ?” He gestures to the rope. “You’ve never—”

I look at the rope and back to him, gasping for air. “Never what? Walked a tightrope?” I hold my fist over my eyes. “This—is—not—a—bridge.”

I face the albinos, helplessness building like a volcano. I’m now willing to beg in any manner, but Alder’s history shows he doesn’t heed begging. Maybe he’ll swipe my head off before the first word comes out.

Willow reaches us and heads straight for the rope without a word. Already barefoot, she spends a careful five seconds transferring her balance from the ground to the rope. Once both feet are on, she takes long steps across, holding her tiny arms out as wide as they’ll go.

I stare with my mouth open. She holds her chin high, staring at the other side of the canyon. The rope sags a little from her weight and her tiny toes grip the grains.

“Go, Parvin.” Jude faces the oncoming albinos. “Crawl across the rope if you have to. Hand over hand.”

It’s too late. “I have one hand.” I can’t let Jude die for me. He’s only here because he tried to save me.

Willow is already on solid ground across the canyon, inching away from the edge with her eyes set on the group of albinos.

I stand between the rope and Jude like a deathly game of monkey in the middle. I’m the monkey. Neither of my prospects looks promising, but if I stay in the middle I’ll lose.

The albinos will reach us in a matter of seconds.

Jude pulls something from the inside of his black coat. “Stop!”

Everyone freezes, including me.

“This is a gun.” He aims a grey metal barrel at Alder’s chest. His hands are steady, his jaw clenched, and his face set in firm resolve. No trace of his nonchalant character remains. The edges of his lips turn up in a grim smile. “It can propel a bullet into your body fifty times faster than you can hurl your axe.”

My breathing slows, hitched to stunned trepidation. The air is frozen. The albinos are stock-still. Jude stares them down like a matador.

In this moment, I realize I don’t know Jude. What little trust I had in him was because Hawke sent him, but even Hawke is a mystery. Trusting Jude was foolish. Rash.

Characteristic.

“Parvin, give me your knife and go.” His voice is chilled.

My hand covers the sheath on my belt. “Why do you need my knife?”

“Give it to me!” He thrusts his hand back.

“Okay!” I’m so afraid he’ll shoot someone that I hand him the weapon.

“Now go!”

Do I escape with the man with the gun? Each passing second screams no. I look across the canyon. Willow turns and runs away from us.

“Willow!” Black calls after her tiny retreating form. She keeps running. I would, too, if I had the opportunity.

“Be quiet,” Jude barks. “She has a right to leave you if she wants. You said so yourself—she hit her bloom.”

“She needs to atone,” Alder growls.

I glance at the rope. It’s this or a beheading. After Jude’s threatening, the albinos are bound to behead me if I go to them now.

Alder opens his mouth again, but Jude cuts him off. “Say nothing.”

Again, the silence hangs. Jude waits for me. I drop to the ground and inch my body onto the rope, upside down, clinging with my right hand. God, protect me from these maniacs!

Crisscrossing my legs over the rope, I scoot in increments. Every muscle quivers. My strength won’t last long. I pray my pack is secured enough that nothing falls out.

I must keep moving. I can make it across. The bottom seems ages away, flooded with a murky cattail marsh. If cattails are growing from the bottom, the stagnant water is shallow—too shallow to break a fall.

Scoot. Scoot. The fibers of the rope dig into my skin.

“Turn and leave.” Jude says to the albinos.

“We can’t do that.” Alder’s voice holds no mercy. “Why do you flee? Guilt?”

“Don’t shoot anyone!” Even though I hate Alder, I don’t want to witness his death.

My fingers start to uncurl from the rope. I hook my left arm over at the elbow, but the pressure hurts my wounds. Queasiness sets in and I look away from the albinos. I continue to inch across. My back prickles from the space beneath me.

God. God. God. I should have faced the albinos.

My weak legs can’t hold on. I’m half way across and whimper, “Jude.” One leg slips off and a shriek escapes. “Jude!”

He looks over at me in a flash, keeping the gun leveled at Alder. “Hold on.”

“She’s going to fall into the Dregs, Jude.” Alder’s voice rises. “Parvin, come back while you can.”

Why, so he can behead me? Even breathing is dangerous to my strength right now.

Jude inches backward to the edge and kneels down. Holding the gun up with one hand, he lowers the dagger with the other and saws back and forth on the rope—my rope.

“What are you doing?” The vibrations peel my fingers away.

“Grip the rope as tight as possible and don’t let go!”

“I’m falling.”

Alder gestures toward the canyon bottom. “You’re dooming yourselves!”

Those are the last words I make out. The rope crackles and rotates on thin threads. Jude slips my dagger into his belt and the albinos start screaming. Some twirl stones in their slings. Alder raises his axe. Black steps forward, both hands extended.

Meanwhile, I grip the rope with my shaking hand. So much for not being the monkey.

Jude turns his back on the albinos and leaps spread-eagle off the edge. I scream. A stone zings over his head. He grabs the rope with his empty hand and the jolt of his weight snaps the remaining threads. We plummet toward the canyon bottom.

“Don’t let go!” Jude roars.

The jolt of my stomach brings me back to when I dove off the edge at the Wall. Only that time, I wasn’t at risk of being speared by cattails or shot by a deranged stranger.

The fall is not a smooth swing to the other side as I’d imagined. We freefall for several feet—just enough time to picture a horrific death.

What will death feel like?

The rope goes taut. My hold breaks from the jerk and I tumble through the air. My flailing limbs collide with Jude. The cacophony of screams, rush of wind, and explosion of a gunshot are doused upon my impact.