A glimmer of terror races through myblood, but I try not to let it show. “Are you sure?” I can barelybreathe as Condor slams a hand across my mask, and I shiver as itbites into my nose.
“You question me? Let’ssee how that brain of yours works when you’re in the forests alone.Either come back with treasures or do not come back at all.” Condorleers in triumph as my hand reaches to my jaw, testing thesoundness of the bone.
“Have I ever failed?” Igrumble, already moving toward the door before Condor can answerme. Hurrying down the rickety staircase, I pass by axes, bows,slingshots, and other weaponry used by the others in the House. Ipick up no other weapons for myself; I want nothing more than thelong, serrated blade jutting out from its sheath at my hip. Theblade slaps my leg as I hit the last step, almost as if the metalitself is a harbinger of fury trying to slice its way tofreedom.
The morning dew istraitorously pretty for this land. It glistens on the dusty road,not yet heavy enough to make the ground muddy. The sky is on firewith its orange hue, and I shut my eyes against it.Too beautiful for me to view. Such a sightbelongs only to the innocent, I think asmy hands tremble.
Immediately I bolt for thecover provided by a dilapidated car in the driveway. Its windowslong broken and its hood rusted through, the car stands as a cruelreminder of the life we all once shared. Many a time I have passedby and wondered who had owned it before the windstorm.What would they say to learn that the House ofVultures now squats in their home?
I hopscotch my way to the tree line,passing through the fence with my eyes alert for any signs ofdanger. Nothing slows my pace until I am hidden behind theblackened bark of a thick oak tree. New saplings stretch theirbranches up toward the sky, but all of the tallest trees bear thescars. These strongest trees that still stand after the windstormnow seem to grieve, to scream out to the younger generations as ifin warning. I’ve always felt skittish in the forest, as if I ambeing watched. Though whether it is the trees or other intruders onour land, I am never certain.
“Please let there be atleast a deer or two, and a few rabbits—enough to feed the ones thatlive inside,” I pray to whatever god might be listening. There arenearly seventy who claim loyalty to the House of Vultures, but onlyeight of us actually live indoors. We serve as the elite council,with Condor acting as the self-proclaimed leader. The rest of themembers make camp in the fields behind the House, scrounging theirliving out of what they can find there. When those of us that liveinside run the forests of Cassé, we are foraging for everyone inthe elite. If I go back to the House empty handed, I will not onlybe beaten, but also cause myself, Warbler, Bittern, Falcon, andGrouse to go hungry. Food goes to the males when it runs short. Achauvinistic practice in my thoughts, but I cannot stand aloneagainst Condor, and I know that none of the other girls would backme. Except Warbler, and no one takes her seriouslyanyway.
The first trap yields a scrawny buck,and I quickly clean and dress him before continuing. I learned longago not to let my mind focus on my actions. The first time I’d hadto do this task, I butchered the animal, practically ruined themeat, and cut my shaking hands at least three times. Over time Ihad learned to detach myself, not allowing the guilt that I feel toaffect the steadiness of my knife. Emotions are worthless when youare fighting to survive. They are weights that will get you killedif you let them. “Barely enough meat for three. Even if the otherrunners are lucky today, there won’t be enough for us all,” Ilament as I wipe the blood off my knife. “Have to do better thanthis.”
The next two traps are trampled,suggesting that whatever had been caught was strong enough to getaway. I inspect the surrounding forest until the sun is high overmy head, and I curse when I come up empty handed. My eyes begansearching the bushes for wild berries that I can smuggle in my coatto the other girls. A growl roars from my stomach as I prepare foranother day skimpy on food.
However, when I reach thefourth trap, I find that it has been sprung on purpose. A smallwhite flower is caught in the wires, and I draw my knifeimmediately. Someone iswaiting, my inner intuition tells me. Thatotherworldly knowledge that eyes are focused on me skitters acrossmy bones. Every sound heightens, from the cacophony of birds to thegentlest breeze rustling the leaves, and finally to the forcedshallow breaths of the person behind me. I discover his presenceonly a second too late.
“Foolish girl,” a voicewhispers in my ear as a hand grapples with my throat. “Leaving yourparty to go off alone in the woods, tsk tsk.” I feel soft furtickling the base of my neck.
“I’m all alone,” Ibreathe, relaxing as I recognize the speaker. “That’s hardly ascore for someone of your stature, Wolf.”
“Really? That fool let youout in this land alone? What is Condor thinking?” The outrage inWolf’s voice makes me smile, hampered only by the tips of the clawshe wears over his fingers. They graze my skin so deeply I fear theywill leave bloody trails on my neck.
“I didn’t realize youcared so much, Wolf. But I can take care of myself out here.” Ipull at his arm in vain, unable to free myself from
