String Lights

Part III: This is Lustro (Chapter 8)

It was simply odd to me, how this man seemed to be certain of his every step. We had stepped off of a narrow and overgrown path about an hour back, the only visibly paved trail for miles. Since then we'd been weaving through endless groves of trees, every one of which looked exactly like the last, with no way to know if we were going the right way.

The man quickened his pace and so did I, my eyebrows knitted in determination. If he was going to choose to ignore all of my questions, I would continue asking until annoyance forced an answer out of him.

"You aren't a Viper by any chance, are you?" I voiced this question with reluctance, knowing that while it might be offensive, it could very well be accurate, too. If this man truly was as suspicious as he seemed to be, the only explanation for his identity would be a Chronicle defector; his pronunciation and intonation when speaking our language sounded too much like a native's.

"How come you were in the forest in the first place?" I urged him, pleased when I saw the top half of his face crinkle in exasperation. "Did the government send you after me? Is that where you're taking me right now? The headquarters?"

I knew this probably wasn't true, but it didn't stop me from using the question as bait.

The man rolled his eyes. Finally he mumbled, "Are you always so suspicious of everything?"

"My sister taught me to be dubious. She thinks there's nothing in the world that can be trusted, except maybe a few family members and certain friends. She guesses you'll encounter maybe five people in your life that you can actually trust. Maybe even fewer than that."

"The older Haven," the young man said quietly, almost to himself. "She always seemed like a smart girl." A faraway, cloudy glaze passed over his eyes.

"Did you know my sister?" Silence. "How do you even know our last name?" I pressed. "I never told you. I was never introduced to any of my parent's friends, so you can't possibly—"

"Stop talking." He had suddenly gone rigid. I stopped in my tracks, too, and heard something I hadn't been able to hear over my own voice: the rustle of leaves. Someone else was here.

There was a faint click and a bright circle of light appeared on the tree beside us. The man grabbed my arm and pulled both of us behind the trunk of a different tree, hiding us from view, to avoid being spotlighted under the glow of the flashlight. I held my breath until both the light and the rustling sounds passed, once again giving way to silence.

The man's eyes flashed. He looked angry, even a bit frightened. "They've never come this far before," he muttered to himself. Then to me, "Come."

I followed quietly. I asked no more questions the rest of the way.

･･･⛧･･･

Just how many more identical-looking trees we passed, I could not say. For another hour my company and I trekked through millions of tightly packed groves, trod through ice-cold, rushing streams, and finally, came up to what looked to be a rocky mountain acting as a roadblock in our journey. But it was here that I was shown a small, almost undetectable gap at the bottom of the hill, leading into a narrow, man-made tunnel which seemed to go through the mountain. We moved silently on our hands and knees, the sharp fragments cutting into our palms. Yet my guide seemed to know what he was doing, and I didn't question his actions.

He had taken the lead and got through the low tunnel much faster than I did. As I reached the opening I crawled out and stood, brushing my dirty palms on my clothes. My squinted eyes adjusted to my surroundings, and there it was.

A log cabin. We were standing in a meadow sheltered by a large thicket of trees. To the left the structure was bordered by the mountain, and to the right, a huge grove of trees shaded the cabin from view.