The Black Room by Gillian Cross Page B

the others needed. She could start the story that came to her without worrying about how it would end. Because the end was always right.
    That was what they wanted now. But tonight, all she had in her head was a single word. It was painful and unwelcome, not suited to a celebration, and she fought to hold it back. For as long as she could, she kept her head bent, playing with the braid that lay in her lap.
    But it was no use. They were all looking toward her, and in the end, the pressure was too strong to resist. She lifted her head and spoke the word out loud.
    â€œCold.”
    It silenced everyone, faster than Zak’s drumbeat ever had. The cavern was instantly still, with no sound except the shifting of logs on the fire. Lorn breathed in, letting the stillness flow into her, like an icy liquid pouring into her body. As she drew it in, more words welled up in her mind.
    â€œThe cold is coming now,” she said. “It’s coming fast for us, but it will come even faster for people above the ground—for people who are traveling.”
    Annet gasped. The noise sounded raw and harsh in the silence, but Lorn went on relentlessly.
    â€œTravelers set out full of hope and excitement. They want to reach impossible places. They want to change the way things are.”
    She didn’t need to say the names— Cam and Zak, Robert and Nate. Everyone knew whom she meant. She could feel them making pictures in their heads as she went on.
    â€œThey carry heavy packs of food,” she said. “And thick furs, to keep out the cold. At night they huddle together, burrowing deep into dead leaves, with the furs wrapped close around them. With every breath and every step they take, they fight against the cold, struggling to reach home. But the journey seems unending. Every day they grow weaker. And the cold grows stronger.”
    â€œThey need a rescue,” Bando said, not interrupting in his normal loud voice, but whispering the words, his face tight with concentration.
    Lorn shook her head, spreading out her hands. “Who can rescue them? They’re lost in the great wide spaces above ground. Each day it grows colder and colder. And soon the frosts will come.”
    She saw the white frost crystals, clear and sharp in her mind, and the travelers’ breath, hanging in the air like drops of water. She felt how their bodies slowed as their blood grew sluggish and thick.
    The fire crackled and spat.
    The story was like a weight. Its dark words blocked Lorn’s throat, and she didn’t know what end to give it except the harsh, bleak truth that all of them knew instinctively. And feared. And ignored.
    It was already very cold. Even inside the cavern, the temperature was lower every day. What did it matter whether they built walls or not? The end would be the same, whatever they did. It was going to get colder and colder, until they all died.
    First—very soon—it would be the travelers. Cam and Zak and Nate and Robert would never come back. They would all die out there in the cold, twisted into stiff, hungry shapes on the frozen ground.
    And then, one by one, the same thing would happen to the rest of them. Robert had gone to find a way of saving them, but he would never come back now. And soon, even the thickest fur would be too thin to keep them warm. One by one, they would go to sleep and never wake again. For the first time, Lorn understood that clearly. That was how the story was bound to end. It was the way things were.
    But when she lifted her head and looked at the earnest faces watching her, she knew they weren’t waiting for that kind of ending. They were watching her lips as though her words could change the future. As though telling the story could alter what had to happen.
    Her mind was empty of everything except despair, but those faces drew her up onto her feet and sent her walking across the cavern. She went between the bundles and around the heaps of grain until she