To the Well-Organized Mind

Chapter Twenty-Seven

[Fen/Nia]

Dear Nia,

I don't expect or ask you to understand. But I still would like to try to share this deepest part of me with you in the hopes that you can find it in yourself to forgive me.

I have here vaccines against feralism. These are the same vaccines that were being bartered in Asis for supplies. They work for a time to help delay feralism symptoms. They are not a cure. As far as I know, there is no cure.

I have not taken any of the vaccines.

No doubt, you will want to know why or would insist I take one now in case it could help. But it has been my choice all along not to take them.

Do not think that I am depressed and refusing to take any steps that could delay my lapse to feralism out of anger or denial or some other emotion. I have contemplated on my actions for a long time, and I am moving forward with the path I deem best.

I have been studying the ferals. They fascinate me, and I have developed a great respect for them. (For us, I suppose, since I will soon join their ranks.) I'll never forget the people of Asis driving out individuals who exhibited even the slighted feral symptoms, abandoning them to a life outside the walls without any supplies or preparation. But I have seen feral gangs adopting outsiders and welcoming them into their community despite bringing nothing. This is why I chose not to live in Asis. This is why I am trying to acclimate myself to the wilds in preparation for turning entirely feral.

[Paper is torn beyond this point]

-from Ridge's note to Nia

***

"So, what does it all mean?"

I take my time rereading the letter, imagining the dozens of times Nia herself has read it, fingers smoothing the creases and tracing the torn edge until it is soft and pliable like cloth.

She won't want to hear what I really think. Even I don't want to admit the reality of my own thoughts. That Ridge was at peace with his diagnosis in a way Nia cannot accept. That Ridge saw strengths and positives in a degenerative disease.

But when I open my mouth to reply is some manner—I haven't even decided whether it'll be a lie or the truth yet—Nia suddenly clamps her hand over my mouth. She leans in closer to me, peering over my shoulder. My nostrils flare as I try to breathe as quietly as possible, and my eyes roll to the left as far as possible, but I am no frog: I cannot see behind my own head.

For a moment, we are frozen and still, and I wait to be alerted to the threat that Nia had caught long before my own senses could.

With her lips moving against my ear, she breathes, "Slowly bend down." With her words, she puts pressure on my shoulder, and together we sink down so that we are hidden entirely behind the wall of books. And still I have heard and seen nothing.

Fen from two months ago would have had a hard time keeping his questions from boiling over. He would've been craning his neck to try to find what was going on to make Nia so nervous. It's at that moment that I realize part of me did die in the Barrens. I can no more be the Fen of old than I can pretend I still need to serve penance for what that Fen did. With Asis, with Nia, I am wholly new.

She is facing me, although her attention is on whatever is beyond the wall of books. Her body is close enough that I can feel the heat from her skin and smell the sweat that has dried on her skin. The necklace I gifted her lays against her collarbone, reflecting the light from beyond the cave. I'm still surprised that she is wearing it.