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Twenty : Box

A gust of icy wind sweeps around us, and just as Corin opens his jacket to check his wounds, the trees ahead of us shift in the wind and I glimpse a burst of orange.

"The persimmon tree!" I exclaim aloud, at the very same moment Corin mutters an expletive. We turn to each other, mirror images. Black, windswept, mud-caked hair and confused expressions.

"Persimmon tree?" He enquires.

I don't have to ask what he was swearing about – my gaze drops instantly to his abdomen. Fresh blood, seeping into the hard brown splodges of yesterday's accident. The uphill hike has been too strenuous, too soon. That heavy sensation returns, exaggerated this time by guilt. I forced him to walk before he was ready so I could chase a dream.

"Corin, you're bleeding again!" I state the obvious.

"Yes, I noticed." He zips his jacket back up. "I'll be fine. Did you just say there was a persimmon tree? As in, edible food nearby?"

"There's more than just fruit, if my dream was correct."

His brow folds. He looks more confused than ever. I grab his hand and yank him along behind me, following the vibrant orange beacon in the distance. As the wind throws branches around, it comes and goes, but the colour of the swollen fruit pierce through the dense bush.

Before long, we have reached the tree. It towers above us, laden with bright, oval fruits. I expect Corin to rest, but instead he begins plucking every persimmon in arm's reach and tossing them into a pile on the forest floor. Don't get me wrong, I am hungry, too, but I have a more pressing need. To see if my dream was less of a dream, more of a.... premonition?

I crouch in the dirt near the tree's roots and begin to scrape deep gouges with my fingers. The soil is fairly loose, and soon I can gather cupfuls in my hands and the hole grows steadily. It's not long before Corin notices what I am doing. He stops picking persimmons and stares at me as if he's thinking I've finally lost the plot.

"Um, Benna... what are you doing? You do realise the edible part of the tree is the fruit – up here on the branches?"

My hands are black with mud. I continue scrabbling through the soil.

"I know that. You just keep doing what you're doing, and I'll tell you what I'm doing when I find it."

"When you find what?"

I start a new hole, beside the first. "I said I'll tell you when I find it!"

Corin just shrugs at my snappy tone, and turns back to his little pyramid of persimmons. I glimpse him from the corner of my eye, sitting to watch me dig, tucking into one of the juicy fruits. I'm flinging dirt about for quite a while, so long I start to doubt whether my strange dream meant anything at all. But the dream about the Trifecta turned out to be important... surely it couldn't be mere coincidence? Things like that don't just happen.

Corin's slurping is beginning to get annoying. And my back is burning with effort, ripples of fire streaking up my spine. I kind of want to collapse face first into the mud. I'm dirty anyway. I can smell my own hair, falling out of it's braid, greasy beneath the beanie I'm not removing because it's too cold out here. I'm pretty sure there's dirt on my face, too. Once upon a time my fingernails had a permanent glossy sheen and rounded tip, now they are revolting, crusted with dark, damp earth. If I were to walk through the centre of the city like this, people would stare openly, jaws dropped. Cross the road to avoid me, wondering where the hell I came from. I should be ashamed, but I don't even care. Right now, all that matters is the existence of this box – for my sanity, and for Corin's health. I don't know what's inside but I do know it must be something important if the location was sent to me somehow.

Finally, my fingers scrape against something solid, rough. At first I think it's just the root of the persimmon tree – it couldn't possibly, actually be a box. But as I pick off a sticky, squirming worm I realise the surface of the solid thing is flat. I brush off crumbs of soil and slide my hands around, finding the edges. Rectangular. It is a box! I could kiss it!

"Corin!" I shout. "Help me dig this out!"

Ever the trooper, he starts to get up, with a wince. "Dig what out, Benna?"

"Actually, sit back down. I can do it." I don't want his injuries worse because of me, again. Without protest, Corin lowers himself back to the ground and returns to his self-assigned task of stuffing his backpack with as many fresh persimmons as he must think his stomach can handle. He glances up at me with interest.

"Are you planning on telling me what you're doing, then?"

The box is heavy. I manage to snake my hands into the dirt until I feel a pair of thin rope handles attached to the sides. "There's a box buried here." I gasp, yanking. "Don't ask me how I knew, I'll just sound crazy."

"Well now I have to ask," Corin says. "It's basically required."

The box bursts from the ground and I fly with it, landing on my butt in the pile of dirt I've made behind me. Brushing myself off, I stagger back to my feet and drag the box over to where Corin sits.

"I had this dream." I flip the small metal latch. "Well, two dreams."

"And?"

"And one showed me the Trifecta, before it came into view on the boat."

"That's weird. And the other?" he prompts.

"The other showed me the persimmon tree." I lift the lid, the unvarnished wood scratching my fingertips. Inside, black writing is scrawled in capitals across the interior lid.