Such punishments came at all hours now, a vicious pattern that ravaged sleep.
Moaning, wailing, roaring, the outcast climbed the mountain, rousing the wood, a wild thing lost amid the wild.
The small bundle of food waited by the garden wall.
Closer the sound of thrashing through leaves, the crack and pop of splintered wood.
It reached the garden and stopped.
Hesitating, the wretched one leaned to lift the bundle. Could it know? Did the lost remember? Was there yet hope of return?
The exile waited, watching the shadow of the thing in the moonlight, its silvered outline hunched and trembling.
It lifted its head and sobbed. A human sound. The exile took a step toward the door. Could such a thing be?
The sob roughened to a shriek, then bled to a howl, a lament jagged as broken glass.
The lost one raised the gift and dashed it to earth. It threw itself upon the garden, smashing the fencing and ripping plants from the dirt, tossing the new growth from the torn soil.
Then it ran, keening, from the garden.
The exile turned from the door and returned to bed, listening for a long time as the ragged voice echoed through the trees.
The Feared, they had been called in times past. It was a fitting name. For a thing full of fear is the most dangerous of all.
Sighing, the exile stared into the darkness, thinking that in the morning, the garden could be planted anew. If there was little else in exile, there was at least always time.
Arustling of the curtain woke Susan. The five of them had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, but now she jerked awake and blinked to see Liyla’s mother outlined in the flickering light of a lamp. She stepped into the alcove and toward the bed.
Susan held her breath and half closed her eyes as the woman leaned over them, smelling of chicken and sweat, searching for something. After a minute, she gave a satisfied little exhale and her hand came down on Kate. With a tug, she pried the Barbie from Kate’s sleeping hand and retreated to the main room, letting the curtain fall closed behind her.
Susan nudged Max, putting a finger over his lips as he woke. She jerked her head in the direction of the curtain. Together, they crept out of bed and prodded it aside. A small oil lamp sat on the wooden table, its flame casting rusty shadows on the walls. Liyla’s father sat beside it, fingering the doll.
“So this is what they’re supposed to look like, hmm?” he asked his wife. He examined the doll with a perplexed expression. “A little different from the old paintings, these.”
The woman snatched it from him. “The model’s the face, Toper, and the hands.” Susan watched her run her own gnarled hand along the plastic arms.
“Who do you say is best to seek out, for the reward?” she asked him.
Susan stiffened.
“You know those types in the center, always ready to gain off the hardworking,” Liyla’s mother continued. “They might just claim them themselves if we don’t speak to the right one.”
She tipped the doll upside down over the lamp. Its stiff dress opened into a frilly cone, and its hair hung above the flame, splayed in the light. Both the adults stared at it, and Liyla’s father nodded.
“That’s why we send this in, ahead. I’d go to Elot, but he’d know me and come back here looking.”
The woman frowned. “He’s good for a pass on the tax for Liyla but not something big as this. This isn’t an egg bribe, is it? No, we’ve got to find someone right at the center. And wouldn’t hurt to disguise yourself a bit, would it? Last thing I’d like is cloaks storming in here. They’d take them and more.” She looked uncomfortably toward her room. “You’ll have to be careful, Toper.”
He nodded. The flickering lamp threw the doll’s shadow across the wall, turning it into a curving giant with spidery legs.
“It’s a risk, yes, but well worth the prize,” he told her.
For a moment, they sat in silence, then he cocked his head and looked toward the curtain. Max and Susan ducked back. “Only thing I can’t figure is how they got loose. Someone’s head rolled on that mistake, you can be sure. Especially the boy. He doesn’t even look a discard. You sure both of his legs were the same length? No missing fingers or a bad eye? Maybe he’s a half-wit.”
Susan glanced at Max, whose shoulders had come up at that last.
“If he did have a bad eye, he doesn’t anymore,” Liyla’s mother said.
“That’s so. But perhaps they fixed that, too, yeah?”
He flicked the doll’s leg with a finger and pulled one of its small feet this way and that.
“Wonders,” his wife said. “That’s progress, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he agreed. “And we’re going to ride its back. They’ll pay more for those five than I could make in a lifetime selling eggs. You’ll be living in the center soon, Issi. You’ll wear one of those gems they get out of the mines, like the Genius himself.”
She chuckled. “And maybe a dress like this one!” she said.
She rubbed the sparkly fabric between her fingers, and he watched her, looking pleased.
“So tomorrow, you keep a sharp eye on those five,” he said. “Bolt the door and don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll go first light.”
She agreed that would be the best thing, and they sat up a while longer, talking about the bounty the children would bring them. At last, they snuffed the lamp, took the doll, and went to bed.
Neither Susan nor Max moved until they heard the click of the bedroom door. Then Susan let out a long breath.
“Liyla might babble on too much to be dangerous, but her parents mean business,” she whispered. “They’re going to sell us! We’ve got to get out of here!”
He shifted uneasily beside her.
