Isle of Swords by Wayne Thomas Batson Page A

how to swim,” he said, and he smiled weakly.
    â€œThere’s a lot you seem to know how to do,” Anne said. Cat smiled, thinking it was a compliment, but Anne’s gaze was full of resentment. Anne stared at him for a moment more before saying, “Come on. Stay right behind me. We need to stay on the Wallace ’s stern.”
    Anne emerged from the water and disappeared across the thin shore into the lush rain forest foliage. Cat followed. He felt wretched, soaked head to foot like he was. And he wondered if he had been foolish, leaving his leather pouch and its mysterious contents on the ship.
    The forest looked ominous, dark, and alive. Strange sounds— warbles, trills, and distant screeches—emanated from green depths.
    The smell, at least, was inviting. Lilac, honeysuckle, and other sweet floral aromas mingled with the mulchy smell of the forest floor.
    â€œWe’ll make our own way for a bit,” she said. “We need to get on the main path out of sight from the Wallace .”
    As they hacked their path through the rain forest with their cutlasses, Cat noticed little orange crabs scurrying out of their way.
    There were other creatures as well: colorful frogs, violet-colored butterflies, and an occasional emerald green tree snake. Once, Cat noticed a pair of large brown eyes peering out at them from one of the treetops, but whatever it was disappeared around the trunk.
    When they came to the main path, Anne made sure the way was clear and then gestured for Cat to follow. “We’re making for
    Misson,” Anne said. “It’s a town at the base of the mountain.” She pointed up through the treetops. Cat saw the gray-green stone of the mountain rise steeply into the deepening blue sky.
    â€œIf you have been here,” Anne continued, “if you saw the Carib’s mural, Misson’s most likely the place you went. We’ll have to stay away from the mill, though. That’s where my father went.
    But there are alleys and paths I know that can keep us mostly out of sight. Hopefully, you’ll see something that you’ll remember.”
    Cat nodded. But there was still something odd in the way she spoke to him . . . a distance, a chilly detachment. He wanted to tell her about the voice he heard when he came up from the water. “Anne?”
    She turned. “What?” She looked annoyed.
    â€œNothing.”
    They walked the forest path in silence, always climbing. Cat’s legs, back, and neck ached, and his head began to throb. When they passed the jagged stump of a huge fallen tree, Cat felt his skin prickle. The hair on his arms stood up. Not knowing why he did it, Cat looked suddenly to his left. There, just visible beyond the leafy branches, a narrow path forked.
    â€œI know this,” Cat whispered. Anne didn’t hear. She kept on walking.
    â€œAnne,” he called. “I know this.”
    She turned around just in time to see Cat dart off the main path and plunge into the forest. “No, not that way!” she yelled. “Cat?”
    But Cat paid her no heed. If anything, he increased his speed. With a grunt, Anne ran after him.
    Cat was fast. Anne couldn’t believe it. The way he’d been walking behind her, stumbling over roots and getting whacked by branches, she’d just figured he wasn’t much in the woods. But now he pulled ahead, and it was all Anne could do to keep sight of him.
    Driven by impulses he could not explain, Cat sprinted up the path. Everything felt familiar now—every root, every large tree, every bend in the way. The path split once, and Cat didn’t hesitate.
    He flew up the trail on the left. The path forked again—this time three ways—and, without a glance at the other two, Cat drove himself up the middle way. Then he disappeared around a wide bend in the path. When Anne turned the corner, she stopped short. Cat was nowhere to be seen.
    Seeing him gone, Anne felt a