Читать книгу Book of Fire: a debut fantasy perfect for fans of The Hunger Games, Divergent and The Maze Runner - Michelle Kenney - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Mum had boiled up leftover chicken bones and roots for dinner, and I sniffed the air hungrily as I reached our knotted-willow ladder. It was secured to our oak’s trunk with twisted twine, and refreshing it was one of my weekly chores. I’d always woken up under a green canopy, and couldn’t imagine sleeping inside a claustrophobic brick box, like our ancestors.

There was a low growl from above and I smiled. Jas was our live-in, juvenile snow leopard ‘watch-cat’. And Eli’s shadow. Perhaps his fortress of silence had been a catalyst, but no one doubted Eli had been blessed with a unique gift when it came to animals. He’d cared for injured creatures for as long as I could remember, and all kinds of wildlife had passed through the woven hospital baskets in our living area.

He and Jas had found each other when she was just a cub. She’d lost her mother, and wandered down the mountain in search of food. Eli had spotted her on the outskirts of the village, just a pitiful bag of bones. He’d insisted on hand-rearing her, despite my dad’s reservations about having a leopard in the house, and she’d turned out to be a sweet-tempered, much-loved member of the family. With her natural instincts and highly developed senses, she was also one of the best watch-cats in the world.

‘Hey, Jas,’ I whispered, pushing her tickling, soft whiskers out of my face as I climbed the ladder into our cosy nest of a kitchen above.

The uneven, aged floor was freshly swept, and Mum was seated with her back towards me, stringing her share of the afternoon’s harvest of onions and wet garlic. A crude form of crop rotation had helped the village build a useful stock of essentials, and make full use of each recovering layer of soil.

I glanced around the familiar, circular space, and felt its warmth reach out to embrace me. I’d painted the concave walls as a child, with dyes drained from crushed seeds and roots; and I loved the way my forest drawings had taken on a life form of their own as the canvas had aged and relaxed.

Thomas’s treehouse map hadn’t escaped my crude, woollen brushes either. I’d coloured and recoloured his faded pencilled vision of Arafel, until I knew it by heart. It used to be my favoured pastime when the monsoon weather came, and I’d spent countless hours pondering the location of our own tiny green home among the maze of crude charcoal markings on the floor.

‘Mum?’ I murmured, relishing the way the word hung in this space.

She spun around immediately, and relief flooded her wind-burned face as I flew across the floor to hug her.

‘Mum, it’s OK … we’re both OK.’

‘Oh, Talia! Thank Arafel! Where’s Eli? You’ve been gone so long I was beginning to … Never mind … Grandpa’s been asking for you since midday.’

It was only when I held her that I noticed she was shaking. She’d struggled since Dad left us, and become increasingly stressed whenever Eli and I took a hunting shift in the outside forest.

‘We’ve been gone the usual time, Mum,’ I murmured quietly, letting her gaze wander anxiously over my face and limbs. When she was satisfied I hadn’t incurred any injury, she nodded towards one of the gnarled doorframes.

A frail voice filtered through. ‘Is that you, Talia?’

I frowned at Mum. He sounded a little worse. She nodded brightly, but her eyes were misted and only cleared when Eli crept up and lifted her cleanly off her feet in a bear hug spin.

Despite – or perhaps because of – his silent world, Eli had the sunny energy to charm a raincloud before it cried. Somehow he always made me stronger. Drawing a breath, I stepped through to Grandpa’s room, savouring the cocooning scent of old books as I entered his snug den.

My grandfather was one of the village’s Senior Elders and held a special, weighted vote in any decision-making. He was also caretaker to Arafel’s sizeable library, created when Thomas salvaged books among the city’s ruins. It was a role he took extremely seriously. And one I would inherit one day. The collection represented a wealth of our ancestors’ general knowledge, and since no one had been permitted to return to the city since Thomas’s time, it was also a priceless asset.

‘Hi, Grandpa,’ I called, forcing a cheerful tone.

My gaze took in the proud, wan man reclining in his favourite oak chair beside the open window. His watery blue eyes leapt as they met mine, while my fragile spirits tumbled. Grandpa had been our rock since Dad had gone, and I couldn’t think about how we’d cope if he left us too.

We’d consulted all three of Arafel’s voluntary medics. Although our small community had no traditionally trained doctors, efforts had been made to record the knowledge handed down by two original defector doctors. Radiation had eradicated many of the old water and airborne diseases, so when people in Arafel died, it was usually from injury or old age. Such was the prognosis for Grandpa, they said softly, as though it would ease the pain. It was his time.

I walked towards his outstretched hands. Grandpa was the eldest resident of Arafel and one of the few remaining links back to the first days. He was a living reminder of how hard life had been compared with now, and as I grasped his hands I studied his shrewd face. Every year was carefully etched by time’s pencil; every line bearing witness to Arafel beliefs: natural order, respect for our place, and taking only what we needed to survive.

‘Close the door, Talia,’ Grandpa said softly, ‘and take a seat.’

I stared in surprise. Grandpa rarely closed his door, and almost never called me by my full name. Suddenly the air in the room seemed heavier.

I did as he wished, before scuttling to my knees in front of his chair.

‘Do you feel OK, Grandpa? Should I send for someone?’

My chest contracted like I’d dropped into the freezing water all over again as Grandpa cupped my cheeks in his hands.

‘Hush now, child. I’m as fit as anyone who’s been blessed enough to take care of Arafel for eighty-seven years. We just need a little chat, you and I, about a special task I need you to fulfil when I’m gone.’

My hackles rose instantly. ‘You’re not going anywhere, Grandpa!’ I returned a little too quickly.

‘Now you and I both know that’s not true … or possible.’ His eyes twinkled down at me and I buried my face in his warm, weathered hands, suddenly nine years old again.

‘Come, don’t let those beautiful eyes be sad for me, Talia; you must know there are others who would trade their entire lives for one day in our free world. In the end we must all know our place in nature, and time.’

I nodded, trying to swallow, and failing miserably. ‘That’s what you said about Dad,’ I whispered hoarsely, the memory of his words easing the twist in my chest.

‘Did I? Well then, it must be true.’

He smiled and let his gaze wander to the bark window frame, through which reached the last glowing arcs of evening sun. He seemed different tonight, at ease in a new way, almost as though he was freeing himself of everything that tied him to this world, and to us.

I dug deep for a smile, trying to ignore the new invisible wall growing between us.

‘You’re a special girl, Tal, and what I’m about to tell you must never leave this room. You and your brother are born survivors. I don’t worry about that, but this responsibility is different. It concerns the future of everyone we love and who lives here. It concerns the future of Arafel itself.’

I stared at Grandpa. I’d never heard him speak so seriously before.

‘Sit beside me, child, and when you’re ready, pass me the Book of Arafel?’

There was no direction, and I knew he knew I’d rumbled its hiding place a long time before. I wondered briefly how much else he knew, that I’d never opened it, at least not since that one time when I was a child.

The Book of Arafel was a precious community possession, and only key members of the Council were permitted to peruse its pages. A record of key events and Council decisions since the day Arafel was founded, it had always resided with us as direct descendants of Thomas. The book was weathered and unimpressive on the outside, but had taken on a mysterious charm ever since I’d caught a glimpse of what was concealed inside.

It happened the same year Dad died. Grandpa received a small delegation from the Council when we were reading Classical Tales and Mythology, one of my favourite for colourful pictures of fantastic legendary beasts. Grandpa always indulged my insatiable appetite for myths of the old worlds, and together we would ransack the library for any small reference to their tales. Sometimes he even made up games to test my recollection of their names and special anatomy. It was thanks to him that I could draw and tell so many of their magical stories from memory, something the younger schoolchildren loved.

On this particular evening, he left the Book of Arafel on his small writing table when he went to speak with the Council, and unable to stop myself, I’d lifted the cracked leather cover. The strange weighting of the paper was the first thing I noticed. And although I tried to flick through the leaves, the book fell open in the centre as though those crudely cut pages were begging to be read first. Their content mesmerized me instantly. Grandpa had returned before I’d had chance to study the pages closely, but the mystery of the unique drawings and text had always stayed with me.

I couldn’t imagine what relevance such an old book might hold for me now, but I reached across and eased the sizeable volume from under the bed mattress anyway. He threw me a mischievous smile as I passed it to him.

‘There’s not much you don’t see is there, Tal? Good. I was counting on that. Now come and sit beside me the way you used to when you were knee-high to a grasshopper!’

My eyes pricked with a rush of heat. It was one of Dad’s favourite nonsense sayings and hearing it always made me feel as though he were back in the room with us. I knelt beside Grandpa’s chair and leaned into his comforting warmth. At nineteen, Eli and I had long finished our school education, and were fully involved in village life. Like everyone else, we spent six days a week fulfilling our chosen community role. For Eli, there was no life outside animals, while I was following in my father’s footsteps by teaching in the village school. Either way, family time was a precious luxury to us both.

‘Look.’

Grandpa’s voice lowered to a whisper as he ran his finger down the centre of the aged leaves and opened them about halfway. He turned the book around on his knees and indicated I should read. It had a loose spine, which rattled as it swivelled. I dropped my eyes to the faded writing, and tried to concentrate.

‘Research: Voynich Manuscript//Genome Investigation: 10th May 2024

‘Author: Thomas Hanway,’ I read, frowning heavily.

There was a faded CLASSIFIED stamp emblazoned across the front page, and I knew immediately I was reading something of significance. I looked up and, encouraged by his slight nod, turned the sepia-stained page. The dense, incomprehensible text was still there, as familiar as though it had burned a fiery imprint somewhere in my subconscious, and yet still no clearer than it was all those years before.

The pages were covered in strange misshapen, circular drawings, and annotated by lines and words I didn’t recognize. And written into the borders were more faded words, some of which could have been written in English or ancient Egyptian, for all I could tell. Each drawing was different – some contained hieroglyphic markings, others smaller distended circles and more indistinguishable writing. I stared for a few seconds, before exhaling. Thomas’s research was a complete enigma.

‘I don’t understand it,’ I ventured after a moment’s silence. ‘It looks like an adult has written over a child’s drawing.’

‘Ah well, that’s scientists for you!’ Grandpa leaned forward to brush the text gently.

‘You recall everything I’ve told you about Thomas?’

I nodded uncertainly.

‘Good. Well, these central pages are all that’s left of his work: precious, classified scientific work. You know Thomas as the pioneering forefather of Arafel, and he was. But he also had a life before Arafel … in the city,’ he continued, gazing at me intently.

‘Thomas was working on a huge Government project at the time the Great War broke out, as a Lead Scientist in the team that created the Lifedome.’

I looked at my grandfather sharply. It was the first time I’d heard of a connection with the dome.

‘Something happened while he was carrying out important Government research, something big enough to make him abandon everything he knew, and run.’

‘Do you know what it was?’ I prompted breathlessly.

Grandpa drew a deep breath and scrutinized my face.

‘Have you ever heard of the Voynich, Talia?’ he whispered so quietly I had to strain to hear at all.

For a second, it seemed as though even the leaves of our white oak paused their dance to listen. I shook my head.

‘The Voynich was an ancient medieval manuscript, which baffled historians and scientific cryptographers for centuries. Thomas was a very clever scientist, Talia, and just before the war he made a discovery about the Voynich, something that changed his mind dramatically about the purpose and sanctuary of the Lifedome.’

‘Is this … the Voynich?’ I asked wonderingly, pointing to the open pages resting on Grandpa’s lap. My skin prickled with the prospect of the real-life ancient mystery unfolding before my very eyes.

Grandpa chuckled softly. ‘Oh no, the Voynich Manuscript was a wonderfully ornate ancient manuscript, which we believe may have been lost during the Great War. What you are looking at is Thomas’s own research into the Voynich, although some believe it’s of rather more importance …’

I tried not to show my disappointment. ‘What … what does it mean? What did he find out exactly?’

‘Well therein lies the real mystery.’ Grandpa pondered this for a moment. ‘We’ve never been able to understand its significance. He attempted to persuade the authorities at the time to listen to him, but instead they arrested him. Luckily, some of his team remained loyal, broke him out of prison, and together with his key research … these pages … smuggled him out of the city to start a new life as an Outsider. Thomas bound the pages inside the Book of Arafel, so they would always be safe, together with his account of Arafel’s beginning.’

I stared in wonder at the new light in Grandpa’s face. I’d never seen him so passionate, or serious.

‘You remember what I taught you of Thomas’s vision? We must live freely, know our place in the forest, and take only what we need to survive.’

I nodded.

‘Yet, Thomas left something else on his deathbed too: a secret request to his family and descendants, that we protect the Book of Arafel from the Insiders – with our lives.’

The words hung on the air and I shifted, trying to digest the enormity of what Grandpa was saying.

‘But, you must know more,’ I tried after a weighted silence. ‘You must have some suspicion as to the meaning of Thomas’s research?’

I reached out to touch the crinkled paper, and a twinkle crept back into Grandpa’s eyes.

‘There’s my Talia, always asking why,’ he responded cryptically. ‘And all I really know is our beginning is hidden in these pages somewhere, and by that I don’t mean Arafel’s beginning – I mean yours, mine, and every other creature that ever walked this earth …’

I gazed back at the grandfather I thought I knew so well, and suddenly realized how many secrets his wise and kindly face had hidden over the years. For all our sakes.

‘The … Origin of Species?’ I tried, racking my brain for any memory of the Darwinian text I’d read years ago.

He let out a short bark of laughter.

‘Yes, but a secret that may make the Origin of Species look like your school abacus! I don’t have the answers, Talia, but I have equipped you so that one day you might understand this better than your old grandpa.’

Equipped me? I studied the complex text intently, willing its enigma to somehow rise from the pages and reveal itself.

‘Can Eli know?’ I asked.

‘No.’ His tone was sharp and non-negotiable.

‘The Book of Arafel is the responsibility of one of our line only. You must only share it when it is your time.’

I scowled, conjuring up all the permutations where that neat arrangement could break down, as a piercing alarm filled the air.

Grandpa glanced towards his window, his bushy eyebrows forked into unusual concern.

‘The perimeter alarm!’ I frowned, jumping to my feet. ‘I’ll get the others, Grandpa.’

My chest tightened as I sprinted out through the living space, and scrambled down the ladder to join mum and Eli at the bottom of the tree. Jas had retreated to the topmost branches, and was mewing like a kitten.

Eli shot her an anxious look but there was no time for animal therapy now. The drill was mandatory. If the alarm sounded, every member of the village had to report to the Council Ring.

The Ring was a large, deep cave, accessible only via a narrow tunnel behind the village storehouse. It contained a natural circlet of boulders, which gave a spherical appearance to the space, and had provided Thomas and his small following with shelter in the early days. Now it was used only in an official capacity for events, meetings, and shelter if the weather was unusually bad. The Council said the natural shape of the Ring reminded us of Thomas’s harmonious principles: shared community living, open trade, and dispute resolution by dialogue. But tonight the Ring was protection.

Every direction I looked villagers were hurrying out of the dusky foliage, their faces pale and strained, barely concealing their anxiety. The young and fit helped the elderly and infirm. Between the trees to our left, a golden-haired toddler stumbled while his mother struggled with a crying newborn. Mum hurried over to the terrified child.

‘Come on, Daniel,’ she whispered, taking his hand. ‘Let’s see how many rabbits we can count along the way.’

His mother smiled gratefully as she fell in next to us, and I recognized her as Nina from the other side of the village. Her husband had accidentally disturbed a hibernating bear in the outside forest a couple of years ago. He’d never walked, or spoken, again.

‘Grandpa?’ I asked Mum with raised eyebrows. I already knew her answer.

Grandpa was weak, but had become increasingly stubborn when it came to village summons. He said his presence was a distraction for the new leadership, and not being answerable was a precious perk of his advanced age. He wasn’t relinquishing it to anyone.

‘Maybe later.’

She spoke briefly and her strained expression said it all.

We arrived at the Ring within minutes, and joined the steady line of villagers filing silently down the tunnel into the lantern-lit circle of stones. The cavern was only about ten metres deep into the mountain, but its cold, dank atmosphere made it feel a million miles away from our treehouse. There were about six hundred of us, and we filled the empty space with ease.

Four sentries were positioned at the exit, and I felt a small surge of comfort even though they would be no match for an aircraft Eagle, should one ever penetrate the mountain range. I watched as Max and two of his tall friends lit extra lanterns, and I pressed myself into Mum’s warmth.

A hush fell across the arena as a small, elderly man stepped up onto the flat boulder used only for public addresses.

Art was our elected Village Leader, and had accepted the reins from Grandpa three years before. The Council held annual open elections, but Grandpa had been re-elected as Leader for nearly forty consecutive years before ill health forced him to stand down.

Tonight, Art smiled calmly around at the anxious crowd as two Elder members of the Village Council joined him on the flat stone. Then he turned a dial on a small black box, and the perimeter alarm disappeared.

‘My friends.’ He spoke with a quiet air of authority. ‘Thank you for your calm and rapid response to our intrusion alert. Our detectors suggest that at least one Sweeper, perhaps two, have infiltrated our designated perimeter. We have also detected large unidentified animal life in the area.

‘In accordance with Arafel’s Emergency Plan, we will deploy a small fact-finding task force immediately. Please will those nominated assemble on the west side, and move down to the side chamber where there will be a quick briefing.’

I threw a swift glance around the crowd as various villagers hugged their loved ones before making their way over towards a small cavernous antechamber. I clenched my fingers knowing they were all thinking the same thing. That they might not return. Then Max dismounted casually from a boulder to near the exit and I felt an odd coldness creep into my stomach. He threw a brief wink in my direction as he passed.

‘Eli Hanway is also requested to join the task force.’

It was impossible to miss the mandatory edge to Art’s voice, and I caught my breath. It was completely understandable of course. Eli was easily the best person to manage any unidentified animal life, but he was also vulnerable – and my brother. I scowled at Mum. Her gaze was fixed on Art, though she squeezed my hand until the whites of her knuckles gleamed in the cavern’s flickering light.

‘The initial task force will be deployed in fifteen minutes; all community members are requested to remain here until we have gathered more information.’

As Eli joined the others inside the antechamber, Art inclined his head to signify the short meeting was at an end.

‘Grandpa?’ I whispered.

Mum shook her head, although I already knew he wouldn’t consider coming to the Ring for the duration of the task force operation. Just as my brain started processing numerous persuasive strategies, none of which were likely to have success, a familiar voice echoed across the cavern.

‘Apologies for the interruption, Art, but I believe you might – despite your undoubted wisdom – have overlooked something.’

His authority was unmistakable, even at his age.

‘Grandpa?’ I asked incredulously, craning my neck as the crowd parted to let a stooped figure shuffle slowly into the centre of the Ring.

‘George!’ Art’s voice was full of equal care and surprise. ‘What concerns do you have, my oldest friend?’

There was a hush as Grandpa pulled an old oblong item, wrapped in Mum’s shawl, from under his arm. He unwrapped it with shaking hands, and held it up above his head for everyone to see. A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd and I shivered. It was the Book of Arafel. Grandpa rarely took it out at home, let alone in public. It was just too precious.

With slow ponderous actions, Grandpa opened the dusty tome, cleared his throat and began to read aloud: ‘In accordance with Article 8562 Procedures in an Emergency, all task forces should include an original member of the Council of Arafel in preference, or his/her replacement.’

‘Old friend, this requirement has not been overlooked,’ Art interjected gently. ‘I intend to accompany the task force.’

Grandpa’s shrewd gaze was unwavering. ‘The Article states all task units should comprise Arafel’s core pillars: strength, skill, speed, and experience. It’s no secret I learned how to negotiate with Insiders from my grandfather, as he learned from Thomas himself,’ he continued in a steely voice. ‘There’s a skill to communicating with them, Art, for – despite our shared heritage – they are not our kind. You are needed here, and I am of Thomas’s bloodline, the eldest remaining. You must let me go, in preference.’

A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. Disagreement was rare in Arafel, let alone among such senior Council members.

‘No, Grandpa!’ my voice rang out, sounding high and unnatural in the cavernous space. Dozens of eyes swung my way, and Grandpa’s face relaxed for a second.

‘It is the right way, Talia,’ he reassured me, his voice softer. ‘You know what to do.’

I watched wretchedly as he made his way slowly through the crowd to pass me the wrapped book.

‘Protect it with your life, and one day you might know its secrets,’ he whispered, hugging me and Mum tightly, before shuffling towards the antechamber. Art looked undecided for a second, and then slowly nodded his defeat. Grandpa was elderly, but also universally loved and respected as an Elder with direct connection to the original founding father. No one here would support a challenge.

I glanced helplessly at Mum’s ashen profile. Grandpa was so weak. I couldn’t even see how he would survive the exit from our village, he hadn’t been outside in a decade. I knew Eli would look out for him, but if Eli was looking out for Grandpa, no one was looking out for Eli. I bit my lower lip until I tasted the faint bitterness of blood, it did nothing to still the panic inside.

‘Tal … Talia?’ Mum’s terse voice sounded distant, as though she were calling through a thick fog.

‘You must take the book; it can’t stay here. It’s too precious.’

I stared blankly for a moment, before the full force of her words hit me. I held the most precious item in Arafel in my hands as though it were a basket of potatoes on market day, and it was already attracting curious glances.

Five minutes later, I was weaving through the dark forest in the direction of our treehouse. It hadn’t taken long to persuade the guards of my need to return, being Grandpa’s granddaughter had its advantages.

The muted call of an owl rang out behind me before it swooped low, and found a place to rest in the low-hanging branches silhouetted just ahead. It did little to calm my nerves. I loved my forest home but the silence tonight was eerie, and when I reached our treehouse, I scaled the willow ladder swiftly. Jas greeted me, and I rubbed her favourite milky-white spot behind her black-tipped ears with affection, enjoying her warm breath on my skin.

‘Now where to hide the thing?’ I muttered, scanning our living space for inspiration. The Book of Arafel was revered, and there were a number in the Council who would jump at the opportunity to take it into ‘safekeeping’. Jas mewed plaintively, and I spun on the spot to eye her bed and empty food bowl.

‘Of course! Good girl, Jas!’ I whispered, running to her bed area and pulling her large woven basket to one side. Jas could be pretty formidable and highly protective of her family home. I wished any intruder all the luck in the world if they decided to inspect her bed.

Once the book was stowed under one of the old loose boards beneath Jas’s bed, I crouched beside the stew pot, and ladled some of its warm contents into her bowl. She emptied it in seconds, before creeping under my arm. I looked into her cool yellow eyes as I hugged her close.

Eli and Grandpa were both so goddamned selfless they would probably break their own necks trying to look out for one another. Then there was Max, Max my annoying, do-anything-for-anyone best friend. Only, I quite liked him annoying me – I’d got used to it.

I gritted my teeth. There was only one possible way in the world I could keep an eye on them all.

Purpose flooded my cold limbs, and I leapt up abruptly, startling Jas.

‘Sorry, girl,’ I apologized, soothing her disgruntled yowling with an extra large ladle of stew.

Two minutes later I was sprinting through the dark forest, my leather rations bag over my shoulder. The soft, rhythmic padding of paws behind me alerted me to Jas’s tail, and I was grateful for her company, if only for a short while. The trees were hung with a clingy mist, broken by just a few determined stars, but I was grateful for the cover as I leapt over mossy boulders and ducked beneath sharp branches.

I knew the forest of Arafel like the back of my hand, particularly the route to the exit cave, but night-time excursions were always discouraged by the Council. I didn’t flout the rules like Max, but as I darted through the dark trees I felt a kernel of excitement spark inside me. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, and the scribbled note I’d left for Mum had made promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.

I jumped for a familiar branch and heard it creak as I swung through, planting my feet on a fallen tree and running to its tip. I paused and listened to the forest’s murmur. The misty veil draped the forest in pallid light tonight, making it look fairytale.

When Eli and I were small, Grandpa would tell us about the wood sprites that came out at night, when we were sleeping. His gruff voice would enrapture us with stories of how they sat on mushrooms and drank out of acorn cups, before bathing and dancing naked in the moonlight. Tonight, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see their tiny svelte shapes darting among the undergrowth.

Grandpa’s stories accompanied me as I ran, and before too long, I was creeping up towards the clearing in front of the tunnel cave. Silently, I shinnied up a young hazel tree and surveyed the area. All seemed deathly quiet. Even the nocturnal animals seemed to be watching and waiting. I leapt down lightly and sprinted into the open cave.

A lantern flickered against the rough inside walls, and the floor was littered with signs of the task force’s rushed departure, including discarded ration bags and, among them, Grandpa’s walking stick. I dragged my eyes from it, and prayed Eli would have the sense to find him another one on the other side. Cautiously I glanced out towards the forest, the tunnel-watch guard would be back soon.

I turned to face the still water pooling at the back of the cave. It was silently chilling. But there was no other way. Casting one final look back at moonlit Arafel, I tightened the shoulder strap on my ration bag, and stepped into the freezing water. The cold reached through to my bones with its clawing fingers, and I fought to contain the panic welling up my throat.

Then Grandpa’s voice was at the back of my head, calming my jagged breath and steeling my nerves.

You know what to do, Talia.

I set my jaw, and the last thing I heard as I dived was the faint, disapproving growl of a flecked cat, hidden in the trees across the clearing.

‘Take care of Mum, Jas,’ I prayed, as the icy black consumed me.