his mouth, and running back up to his perch. Far off in the desert, inside the gates, I see horses . . . no—zebras. A whole herd of zebras walking through the desert toward the mountain foothills. Some kind of big bird—a falcon?—soars overhead, motionless as it floats on an air current.
I wish I had paid more attention in biology. Or at least watched more Animal Planet. The zebras and the squirrel are the only animals I’m actually able to identify. At least I know the elk-beast is some type of deer.
I close my eyes again, and feel the heat from the rock I’m sitting on baking the palms of my hands. I think of Juneau and wonder how she feels, being this close to her people. I wonder what she’ll want to do once she’s reunited with them. I mean once they’refree, course. I hope that whatever it is, she’ll want me to come along. And, without knowing that I already made the decision, I realize I’m ready to go with her. To follow wherever she wants to go. It seems like a huge, momentous choice, but really, it’s one of the easiest ones I’ve ever made.
I focus on the picture of Juneau in my mind, and imagine her following the fence as far as she can without being seen, scouting the surrounding area for anything she can use in her quest. A tingling sensation travels up my fingers to my arms, and suddenly I’m experiencing an overwhelming feeling of excitement, mixed with sharp jabs of anxiety. It’s something I’ve never felt before, not in this intensity. And it dawns on me that it’s because these aren’t my emotions. They’re Juneau’s. I’m channeling her feelings .
I scramble to my feet, and stare at my hands and then down at the rock. Was I . . . I couldn’t have been. Did I just Read the Yara? I rifle through my memory for the explanation Juneau gave this morning about what kind of Readings produce what effects. Is ground for feelings? I can’t remember. I seem to recall that Juneau touches the ground and thinks of the person whose emotions she wants to feel. At least that’s what I just did, but unintentionally.
“No way!” I yell, and do this crazed dance around the top of the cliff. I did it! I connected to the Yara! I didn’t think it was possible.
Wait. Reality check: Juneau didn’t think it was possible. She said the Yara stuff only comes with a life change. By living in tune with nature, or whatever. How can I be close to nature if Ican’t even identify a freaking reindeer? It’s the Amrit; I’m sure of it. Along with the advantages of antiaging and disease immunity, it must have a side effect of messing with people’s brains. And then it hits me. The Amrit messed with my brain. I’m not just immortal. I’m magic.
My glee disappears and fear takes its place, slithering up my chest like a snake, and wrapping around my throat. It’s okay, I tell myself. It’s a good thing .
I know I should be excited. This makes me closer to Juneau. I’ll be able to understand everything she talks about that, until now, has been only an abstract concept.
But what if this isn’t the Yara. It shouldn’t be this easy. Juneau said it would take a long time. Dedication to the earth, and all that. What if, because I’m not like Juneau’s clan members, the drug that saved my life is making me go insane, and hallucinations are just the first symptom? Don’t be paranoid, I think, but now that it’s me doing the magic and not Juneau, I am truly freaking out.
I stumble back down the mountain to our campsite, overwhelmed by the warring thoughts pinballing through my mind: On one side this is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me; on the other it’s the scariest.
When I get to the clearing, I am suddenly so exhausted that I crawl into the tent and flop down on the ground. It feels like residual death-sleep—the kind of fatigue that knocks you over the head and renders you unconscious.
As I drift off I focus once more on what happened on the cliff. Did I really
I wish I had paid more attention in biology. Or at least watched more Animal Planet. The zebras and the squirrel are the only animals I’m actually able to identify. At least I know the elk-beast is some type of deer.
I close my eyes again, and feel the heat from the rock I’m sitting on baking the palms of my hands. I think of Juneau and wonder how she feels, being this close to her people. I wonder what she’ll want to do once she’s reunited with them. I mean once they’refree, course. I hope that whatever it is, she’ll want me to come along. And, without knowing that I already made the decision, I realize I’m ready to go with her. To follow wherever she wants to go. It seems like a huge, momentous choice, but really, it’s one of the easiest ones I’ve ever made.
I focus on the picture of Juneau in my mind, and imagine her following the fence as far as she can without being seen, scouting the surrounding area for anything she can use in her quest. A tingling sensation travels up my fingers to my arms, and suddenly I’m experiencing an overwhelming feeling of excitement, mixed with sharp jabs of anxiety. It’s something I’ve never felt before, not in this intensity. And it dawns on me that it’s because these aren’t my emotions. They’re Juneau’s. I’m channeling her feelings .
I scramble to my feet, and stare at my hands and then down at the rock. Was I . . . I couldn’t have been. Did I just Read the Yara? I rifle through my memory for the explanation Juneau gave this morning about what kind of Readings produce what effects. Is ground for feelings? I can’t remember. I seem to recall that Juneau touches the ground and thinks of the person whose emotions she wants to feel. At least that’s what I just did, but unintentionally.
“No way!” I yell, and do this crazed dance around the top of the cliff. I did it! I connected to the Yara! I didn’t think it was possible.
Wait. Reality check: Juneau didn’t think it was possible. She said the Yara stuff only comes with a life change. By living in tune with nature, or whatever. How can I be close to nature if Ican’t even identify a freaking reindeer? It’s the Amrit; I’m sure of it. Along with the advantages of antiaging and disease immunity, it must have a side effect of messing with people’s brains. And then it hits me. The Amrit messed with my brain. I’m not just immortal. I’m magic.
My glee disappears and fear takes its place, slithering up my chest like a snake, and wrapping around my throat. It’s okay, I tell myself. It’s a good thing .
I know I should be excited. This makes me closer to Juneau. I’ll be able to understand everything she talks about that, until now, has been only an abstract concept.
But what if this isn’t the Yara. It shouldn’t be this easy. Juneau said it would take a long time. Dedication to the earth, and all that. What if, because I’m not like Juneau’s clan members, the drug that saved my life is making me go insane, and hallucinations are just the first symptom? Don’t be paranoid, I think, but now that it’s me doing the magic and not Juneau, I am truly freaking out.
I stumble back down the mountain to our campsite, overwhelmed by the warring thoughts pinballing through my mind: On one side this is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me; on the other it’s the scariest.
When I get to the clearing, I am suddenly so exhausted that I crawl into the tent and flop down on the ground. It feels like residual death-sleep—the kind of fatigue that knocks you over the head and renders you unconscious.
As I drift off I focus once more on what happened on the cliff. Did I really
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