Ashes and Rain: Sequel to Khe (The Ahsenthe Cycle Book 2) by Alexes Razevich

nervously against the side of her leg.
    A dark thought ran through my mind over and over, like a stuck loop on a visionstage:
    The world is falling apart .
     

     
    Binley sucked on her bottom lip — thinking, I supposed, before speaking.
    “I inventoried this morning. We’ll be out of food in three days. We would have been out by now, but we were lucky with the kiiku and denish this year.”
    Nez shot me a sharp look that I pretended not to see. I’d used my abilities to push the little patch of kiiku and denish in Kelroosh even though Pradat insisted I should conserve all my strength. I was glad I’d done it. If I’d known then what would be happening now, I would have pushed harder.
    “We could try at Grunewald,” I said. “The doumanas there might have extra.”
    Azlii nodded. “They’ve always had plenty to barter.”
    Grunewald was the commune Simanca had been desperate to beat in the tenth-year competition, the reason she’d pressed me so hard. The reason I’d not live long enough to see the next Commemoration Day.
    I shifted on the cushion where I sat and focused on the sound of Home repeating our conversation to the other structures and doumanas. Soon all of Kelroosh would know exactly where things stood. It was better to listen to Home than follow my thoughts down the dark paths they wanted to go. I’d return to the creator soon enough.
    It was there though, every moment — the thought of my Returning — like a bruise I kept poking to see if it still hurt, somehow surprised each time that it did.
    Azlii stood and dusted her hands against her thighs. “Grunewald it is. We’ll leave in the morning.”
     

     
    Kelroosh slid over the plain, slowing and stopping in the open space just beyond the furthest fields of Grunewald, in the wild spot allotted for corentas. Rain pelted the roofs, windows, streets, and commons. The ground, when we stepped outside, was wet, the soil thick and muddy, raindrops splashing as they hit the saturated soil.
    Azlii, Nez, and I pulled up the hoods of our cloaks and drew them tight around our faces. When Binley joined us near the gate, her hood was drawn up the same as ours, and she walked hunched forward.
    Wall huffed and heaved to get its gate open, the wood swollen from the rain.
    Be careful out there , Wall sent as we passed through the gate. That ground looks as slippery as a commune doumana’s promise .
    The fields were empty as we crossed them. No work could be done in this weather, no plowing or other preparations. The few Barren Season crops that hadn’t been harvested lay limp on the ground, rotting from the rain. The sight pained my heart. No grower liked to see crops go to waste.
    Grunewald was a large commune, the largest in the region, bigger than Lunge. We crossed field after field, our foot casings squelching in the mud — cold leaking through the soles — before the dwellings and main structures came into view.
    “I wonder why they don’t turn the lights on,” Nez said. “It’s dark out here. It must be darker inside.”
    I turned my head so my earhole faced the structures, but I couldn’t hear anything.
    When we got closer, Azlii called out, “We’ve come from Kelroosh to speak with you. Will anyone offer us hospitality?”
    I expected lights to turn on, doors to open, but nothing happened.
    We made our way to the first structure and banged on the door.
    No one answered.
    We crossed to the structure next to it, and called out. No response. Azlii leaned against the door. It creaked open slowly, as sticky as our gate had been. We stood a moment, listening, waiting, but no one came to greet us.
    “Come on,” Azlii cocked her head toward the empty-seeming room.
    No commune doumana would ever enter a dwelling without notice. I guessed that kler doumanas had the same rule because Nez hesitated as I did.
    Azlii glanced up and shook her head. “Pftt. What’s wrong with you two?” She pushed the door open a bit further and she and Binley wriggled