The Burn (A Runner Series Companion)

Chapter 13: Cade (Part II)

202 A.B.

(7 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

As predicted, Lucie loved the library.

"Incredible." She breathes as she spins in place. "Simply astounding."

Jaron and I hang back near the narrow entryway, watching silently as Ian grips Lucie by the hand and tows her from shelf to shelf. She exclaims repeatedly over the volumes, her delighted shouts of laughter intermingling with Ian's.

"I suppose that is it." Jaron's voice is low. "We have no secrets left, now."

"We do not need secrets." I tell him. "Lucie trusted us, and so we do the same."

"It is a mistake."

I wait a beat, mulling over his words before giving a small nod. "That is certainly a possibility."

"Then why do you take the chance?" He hisses. "If you hold any doubt, why risk it?"

"Because something has to change." I turn to look at him fully. "This war between us and them, all of the killing, what has it brought us?"

Jaron starts, his green eyes flashing. I sense a shift and so I grip his elbow and pull him away from the door, into the hall where we will not be overheard.

"This war has brought us justice." Jaron yanks his arm free of my grasp. "The Miners began this fight. They have taken our food, our water, and I have heard rumours of Wasters disappearing into their midst. We must stand up against them, to show our strength."

I choose my words carefully, speaking slowly so that even in his agitated state, Jaron will be compelled to understand. "There are other ways to resolve this."

He stares at me, shoulders heaving. I wait, but for once he seems willing to listen.

I continue. "Think of it, Jaron. Since the Burn, we have known nothing but animosity with these strangers. With each passing year our wars grow more bloody and our understanding of one another becomes more fraught. We repeat the same patterns over and over, and nothing gets resolved."

"They do not want resolution." Jaron protests. His hands clench into fists at his sides. "They want to strike us down."

"Are you so certain of that?" I tilt my head. "Have you spoken with them?"

He reddens. "We do not need to speak. We have learned enough from their actions."

"And how do you suppose our actions appear to them?" I press. "We are murderous rogues, also. We have created a culture around victory and ferocity in battle. We sometimes employ a Choice warrior, a literal harbinger of death."

"This is who the Wasters are, who we have always been."

"Always? For barely two hundred years, we have been this way. That is nothing. A grain of sand in a vast desert of existence." I raise my eyebrows at him. "Think of the courage it must have taken for Lucie to approach us. For all she knew, we would have killed her on the spot."

"She was injured. She had no choice." He grumbles.

"But we do." I say, with finality. "We, as Chieftains, have the sacred duty of shaping the arc of the Wasters' story. Right now, we are at the part of the story where a lone Miner woman asks us for aid. We can either help her, or turn her away. We can stagnate, or we can grow. The choice was mine and when you are Chief, the choice will be yours."

Jaron is silent for a long moment. I wait patiently, listening to the distant sound of Lucie and Ian as they rifle through the bookshelves.

When Jaron finally speaks, he utters an unexpected question. "What would my mother have chosen?"