The Scourge by A.G. Henley

he’s committed to the well-being of the people. We owe him a great deal for his service. People have faults, daughter, and we must try to forgive them as much as we can. Now, enough about the past.” Her voice is all business again. “Are you sure you understand the dangers of this search?”
    I nod.
    “You’ll only be able to carry about three days’ worth of drinking water. If you’ve found no sign of the Hidden Waters after two days, you must return. Promise me you will, and you have my permission to go.”
    I promise her.
    “Fennel, think about this while you’re gone: I can tell you have feelings for Peree, feelings of friendship, maybe more. But even if he shares your feelings, you’ll always be less than human in the eyes of his people, little better than a flesh-eater. And he’d be hardly better in the eyes of yours. Your feelings can only lead to despair.”
    I nod again. I know she’s right, but a part of me—an increasingly stubborn part—wishes she wasn’t.
     
    By morning I’m ready to go, at least physically. I have a pack stuffed with food, water, extra clothing, and a bag of herbs from Majoram in case of minor illness or injury. Eland insisted I take his warmer bedroll, and Calli gave me her extra dress for layering in the cold. Bear made sure I packed the rabbit’s foot. “Just in case,” he said.
    I also have my “breadcrumbs:” a pouch stuffed with foul-smelling crampberries. I had the idea to smear them along the walls of the cave every so often as I walked. Their potent scent lasts for weeks when crushed. I should have no problem following my nose back home, and I’m pretty sure nothing will be tempted to eat the nasty things.
    I’ve said my good-byes to Aloe, Eland, and Calli. Others come by to wish me luck. Bear asks if he can walk with me to the end of the first passageway. I’m surprised, but I agree. He plucks my pack off my shoulder and slings it over his own.
    We walk in uncomfortable silence through the short tunnel, the crackling of his torch the only sound. I’m stiff with fear, thinking about what I’m about to do. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, and the acrid smoke makes me cough. We reach the fork in the tunnel. To the right is the cave mouth and the forest. To the left is the passage I’ll take that leads deeper into the caves, and another, mostly unused passageway that eventually opens to the outside. Bear hands me my pack.
    “I wish I could go with you,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I don’t like you wandering in the caves all alone, any more than when you’re outside with . . . them.”
    “I’ll be all right." I would’ve welcomed Bear’s company—any company—on my journey, but I wonder how he would’ve managed in the ceaseless dark of the caves, after the torch went out.
    “I know you can handle yourself. It’s me. I want to protect you. Do you remember during the fever a few years ago, when I was so sick?” It would be hard to forget the fever. Many people died, and almost everyone else fell ill. I was one of the fortunate ones who recovered quickly. “You mended my shirt, and stitched a bear on it to help me feel better.”
    I laugh nervously. “I remember. You said it looked like a fleshie. I think that was the last time I was asked to help with the mending. I was terrible.”
    “I only said that because I was afraid, afraid you’d be able to tell how much I liked it. How much I liked you. I wore out that shirt years ago, but I kept the bear you stitched.” He puts a piece of fabric in my hand. “Here it is. I want you to take it, since I can’t go with you.” He speaks quickly now. “I wish I could’ve danced with you at the Solstice. I’d been planning to ask you all year, did you know?”
    My stomach clenches. “No, I didn’t.”
    “If the fleshies hadn’t come, would you have danced with me?”
    I don’t know how to answer him. The Summer Solstice feels like one of my dreams, not real