Light of Innocence

Chapter 6: The Seeds

"You stole from us," I spit. My anger darkens like a cloud overhead, hanging dangerously low about to burst. My tongue grows hot as it burns with coursing venom. Seeing him again has thrown me into a charged stance of unpredictable rage. Afterall he is the cause of our capture, the miserable state of our destroyed packs, and this separation with my younger sister. My trembling fear has been swapped with the quick lashes of hate, flaring under my skin. He is fueling this surge, hopefully I will be able to use it to manipulate the situation.
"You are new to the area, thinking theft is not allowed here," he taunts eyebrows raised. Snickers and whispers trickle through like a summer brook, mild but steady. He crooks his mouth to the right corner, and I notice my handiwork from earlier. An angry bruise has surfaced, blooming a deep purple on the side of his square stubbled chin.
His smile falls, sharpening his green eyes into razors cutting through me. My breath catches, halting my rage as I hear his low voice murmur, "Now, Kallon Verity, you had fresh carrots in your pack, stored jars of maple syrup, and two well-fed tamed horses. These haven't been seen in this zone for over ten years." He sighs through his nostrils, agonizingly slow. "So, all we ask is where is your clan?" He lowers his head, waiting unwaveringly for my answer.
He did a good job of hiding desperation. His voice was cloaked, with low plays and even cadences. Undetected. Until, the slightest flicker altered his sturdy gaze. It became the crack in the mask, drawing me to gaze deeper into our surroundings. The small frail faces, eagerly peeking through cracks, large sunken eyes, dulled dry skin, and sluggish motions. The dwellers with their black makeup, distracting the eye from their gaunt faces. Their clothes drape over them like thick square sacks, drowning their thin frames. The discarded jars completely licked clean or clutched in the children's tense hands. Hungry, starved, and desperate for any solution that would fill their stomachs. They sat with watering mouths, craving my response.
My knowledge of malnutrition was either firsthand experience, surviving each grueling winter or the information inside the medical journals. Several chapters discussed signs, symptoms, and quick interventions to supply needed nourishment to victims suffering. What foods have the highest calories, proteins, and promised weight gain. I have the list in my head.
There must be over twenty drained faces looking at me. The rage that fueled me subsides. I can help them. Ada and I can help them.
"We can make a deal." My voice is even and direct. I raise my chin towards him, watching his narrowed eyes smolder with his new impatience towards me. "Show me Ada unharmed, and I can show you where there is more food. Enough for all." I begin to doubt I can pull this off. I begin to think that if I show them this, it puts us at risk. However, I wipe this concern away. I can only worry about one thing at a time.
Clucking his tongue like he had that day in the library, he shakes his head. I shuffle my feet, uneasy at his passiveness to my new offer. But then he gives two harsh whistles in the sunny air. Instantly, a door crashes open. Two large black streaked guards shove along a wispy-hair-frightened-Ada. Relief floods through me, releasing all my muscles I didn't realize I had flexed.
"Unharmed." He glowers. I bite my lip, giving a weak smile to Ada. I head towards our limp packs. I hear the clomps of his boots down the stone stairs, then the squishing as he tracks through the mud. As I bend low to pick up my pack, he darkens the sunlight, shrouding me in shadow. I take a deep breath and look up to him. His eyes are watching me fixedly.
"I'll show you now, and me and my sister will stay and help, but as guests not prisoners." I eye him sternly, hoping to demand my respect. But he slowly shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. "I won't agree to any more deals until I see something worth bargaining."
I nod, knowing I was demanding too much, too soon. I thumb my fingers along the seam of the pack, searching for the specific stitch. My fingers graze the errand stitch, ripping the seam open revealing 30 or so small packages of seeds. As I dig deeper in the torn seam they pile out, falling over our boots. I hand him a package labeled Snow Peas, placing it into his fingerless gloved hand. I then rip into Ada's pack, exposing her sewn-in-treasure.
I remember complaining having to sew nearly a hundred seeds to each of the packs. I smile at the memory now. Dad had us do it just in case we ever had to relocate. I think for a moment that he may have planned for something like this.
He looks quizzical, eyebrows knitted together, green eyes puzzled.
"They're seeds..." I mutter gently. He examines the bag closer, ripping the waxen seal to uncover the tiny brown pebbles. Trying to deter his developing uneasiness, I continue. "It may help if we built a greenhouse, to grow the food throughout the year." I chew on my lip urgently, as I register what this means. How much work this will take with only myself and Ada to instruct. I kick myself, realizing, not all people have been sustaining themselves from their own crops. I wonder if I share any likeness with these people.
Gruffly he clears his throat. "Your sister and you will stay. For now." Taking the peas with him, he smoothly strides back up his steps. He has ordered us, meaning he has no intention of honoring my stipulation of staying as guests. We are still prisoners. I look to the gray faces in the windows, pairs of curious eyes gape at me, in a kind-of reverence.
He perches on the step, looking over the compound, assessing his audience with a flexed jaw. The bronzed woman from earlier joins his side. "There will be a hunting party, leaving at dusk, led by Nyx. The foragers will set out in an hour led by Cleary, Ada will join them. Kallon stays here." He eyes me after, his orders piercing me with his emerald eyes, silencing all objections. His voice holds a certainty, demanding obedience with his quick direction. He is their leader.
I run to Ada, embracing her with trembling hands. Her feathery blonde hair, tickling my cheeks. I smile hard into her sweet smell, fresh picked lavender, transporting me to the purple fields outside our forest home. The clean fragrance, filling my nostrils, calming me even now in this chaotic time.
"We need to do what they say," I whisper urgently into her ear. "We have nothing. Nowhere to go. Nobody to search for. We stay here, follow their rules. For now." I pull away, looking into her eyes, bright as fresh fallen snow on a sunny day, glistening with fearful tears. She nods vigorously.
Their dark figures suddenly cloud the bright sun from our private reunion. He stands there, narrowing his eyes, studying us. "Introductions are needed I think, if we are to work together." His eyes shift from me to the others quickly. "This is Cleary, Ada will be working with her."
She steps forward from the group, grinning wide, showing each tooth proudly, her dark eyes, becoming enveloped in her overpowering smile. Cleary is small, tiny even. Her fiery hair burns towards the sky in heaps of crimson curls, neatly shaved at the sides. Her face littered with small specks, a field of sporadic freckles. Black streaks, smearing violently over her supple cheeks. A contrast that looks obviously out of place.
"I'm Nyx." Her voice is clipped as it was before in her interrogations. The bronzed woman's eyes are laced into delicate spidery eyelashes. The noon lighting catching her sweat, shimmering over her browned skin. She is tall, taller than I imagined before. Her shoulders strong, toned like sculpted marble. Metallic hoops pierce her ears, lips, and face like rows of corn, neighboring each other tightly. She eyes me and then gives a quick wink, noticing my unease.
"This is Vector," he motions towards the tallest of the four. Vector is long, as long and thin as a beanpole. He carries a sharp nose that pulls down his entire face, leaving crude eyes, sloping narrow and judging. Instead of a nod he curls up his slim upper lip, showing his fractured front tooth. Hairs begin to prick at my neck. "I'll be helping with this uhh new structure you plan to build here." Vector murmurs. A sharp whistle spurts out of his crowded nostrils.
"I'm Foster." The man with green eyes, mutters, flicking one last glance over me before, disappearing into another direction.
Each of the four hold similar clothes and features. All maintaining various muddled greys or sad faded blacks. Each has partly shaved or intricate braided hair, and sunken eyes. I quickly question the new life I have agreed to for Ada and I. They smirk and stand in the soupy mud, letting Ada and I squirm for a little too long as they glower over us. But as if a silent message suddenly circulates, they dissipate as easily as smoke into the bustling crowds of duties. Ada and I stand alone. Unversed to the pattern of this new compound we have adopted. I force a thin smile to her, praying that I just made the right choice for both our lives.