The Book Gatherer

Chapter Sixteen

Of all the books and genres, Honi liked blue mystery ones the most. Each book had a different colored cover, and that color said what genre the book was. Red for fantasy, green for non-fiction, gold for Holy Books, gray for realistic fiction. Honi had read—or tried to read—at least one book for each color, but found herself drawn to the blue ones. Yes, mysteries were the best, with the thrill of the hunt and excitement of the puzzle. Honi didn't like the dark blue ones so much, though, which was more adult and serious. The darker or richer the color of the book cover, the more mature it became. When Honi had been younger, her mother had restricted her to Pales only, meant for young children. It had only been last year that Aunt Raula had convinced Mother to let Honi read Middles, though Honi secretly had been for seasons previous.

She hadn't lied to Firek when she'd said her favorite book of all times was the series about the girl solving mysteries in her band. It was a good series, though Honi had no current copies of it; all books were strained of their ink eventually, whether for personal use or when filling her family's quota, sucking the words and story out of them. She got to read less often than she liked in the autumn, since she was so busy with gathering.

As she searched the trees they passed for blue-covered books, she had to admit to herself what she was actually doing. The day they'd met that LAND woman was a good number of days gone, but its memory continued to infest Honi's thoughts, dragging up old ones with it. She didn't like to think of her father much, but now his face—blurry, but there—popped up whenever. She avoided too many depressing thoughts of the Land Serpent's illness and the disease on the land because of it, but whenever her gaze passed over another tree with ugly gray-brown leaves and twisted, scarred bark, she grew a little more anxious.

What if the Earth Serpent didn't get better? What if all the land shriveled up? What if, because of her people's current weakness, the SKY Company doubled its attacks and wiped everyone on land out? What if Honi never returned to her family and died with a knife to her back or throat by an essie flier or Firek himself?

Firek. He was why she searched for her favorite story. A distraction against him. Against the things he'd said, yes, but mostly the things she'd said to him.

How could I do that? she thought, for the hundredth time, as she sat in Jeje's saddle, her body swaying to the rhythm of her strides. How did those words leave my mouth? But she knew the answer.

When it had come to her, when choosing between herself and another human being, she had chosen herself. Selfish. Cruel.

But necessary, she thought with a sigh, sliding her hand into her bookbag to touch the Holy Book as she often did. Its silky touch was soothing. If I hadn't threatened him, I wouldn't have this book. I wouldn't have been able to get it to the priests so they can help the Earth Serpent and His forests.

But wouldn't the Holy Book been safer with adults? Adults who weren't being chased by an essie flock and slowed by a murderous prisoner? The woman would've gotten the Holy Book back faster and safer, Honi knew. She could've just handed the book over, along with Firek. It would've been for the best for all—except Firek, but was his life worth more than her entire nation, her god?

Doesn't matter anyway, Honi told herself. You made your choice. You could've given your people a better chance at survival but chose you and your family instead. Can't change it now. Doesn't make much sense to keep dwelling on it. Except for what it told Honi about herself.

"If you see a blue book, yell at me," Honi said in her cheeriest voice, trying to engage Firek in conversation. "They're my favorite." But he remained silent, didn't give any reaction to her voice.

He hadn't spoken to her for days. He didn't trust her.

A big surprise. It still hurt. She'd thought they'd formed . . . something. Not a friendship, but a . . . alright-ship. Subtle respect for another. All that was gone now.