Ruin (The Ruin Saga Book 1) by Harry Manners

It’s my turn.”
    Norman stepped over towards his mount, from which hung what they’d managed to gather, along with the sack that contained the butchered swine, and felt the knot in his stomach loosen slightly.
    They had risked lingering in the field for enough time to strip it bare. Most of the fruit would need culinary magic to make it edible—let alone palatable—but they had done well, and there was a chance the meat would add enough to the pot for the city folk to enjoy a decent dinner. The stag from the coast had been a prize in itself, but the pig had grown fat enough on the allotments’ fetid slop to at least double their meat stocks.
    At Lucian’s insistence, they had taken a winding route home, and halted several miles from the city. They now stood in a valley that marked the northern edge of their territory, where they had stood watch for over an hour, waiting for any weary refugees who might have followed them.
    Norman wasn’t quite sure of when the golf had begun—only that at some point they had found the rusted club and basket of balls in the high grass, where some poor sod had left them forty years ago as he’d vanished from under his white flat cap—but in the midday heat it didn’t seem to matter. He was glad for the distraction.
    He sat on the grass beside Allison and the two of them watched Lucian take his swing, hunchbacked to the extreme, contrary to his own advice.
    She sniffed. “Did you have to make me come out here all day?”
    Norman looked at her for a second, found that there was nothing to say, and then turned back to Lucian.
    He saw her eye twitch in his peripheral vision. “I don’t believe in keeping things a secret. If people are starving, then everybody deserves to know.”
    “The whole world’s starving.”
    “Not like them! My god, Norman, you can’t be serious. We’re living like spoilt royalty compared to them.”
    “We don’t know anything,” he said patiently. “We haven’t even got reports from the other scavenging parties yet. We should just wait until we have all the facts before we go telling people about our…unfounded conclusions.”
    Allison bristled, but then seemed to restrain herself. “Fine. It’s your decision. I just wish you’d tell us what we’re going to do sooner rather than later.”
    Norman straightened, then looked down at his hands. It was some time before he could bring himself to say, “You shouldn’t look to me for answers, Allie. I’m not a leader.”
    Allison looked taken aback. “But you will be,” she said, frowning, as though stating that the sky was blue.
    “I didn’t ask to be.”
    Lucian cleared his throat and fixed Norman with a pointed stare.
    Norman made to speak, but then registered Allison’s confused expression and closed his mouth. “Don’t listen to me,” he sighed. “I’m just tired.”
    She looked relieved, and sank back. They lapsed into silence for a while and took turns swinging the club, sending ball after ball sailing down into the valley. After half an hour, Allison spoke up once more. “How did it happen?” she said.
    Norman closed his eyes, dreading whatever was coming, lying in the depths of the wild grass. “How did what happen?” he mumbled.
    “We’ve all heard the stories. People talk and whisper about you, but nobody’s ever heard it from the horse’s mouth.” Her eyes scanned him carefully, and Norman began to wonder whether her name being drawn for scavenging duty in Margate had been entirely down to chance after all. “You said you didn’t ask to lead us. So somebody picked you, didn’t they? You were chosen.”
    She was staring at him with rapt fascination, as though she had been granted a private audience with a figure from a fairy tale. “It was Alexander, wasn’t it? He chose you.” She inched closer. “When?”
    For a long time, he didn’t answer, trying to catch Lucian’s gaze. But Lucian kept his back turned to him, visibly rigid, wilfully deaf. Eventually,