“I thought I heard footsteps,” Aaron continued. “But even those disappeared soon enough.”
Tamani swallowed hard, trying to suppress the niggling fear in his stomach.
“Send out scouts,” Tamani said quietly. “Try to pick up the trail.”
“There is no trail to pick up,” Aaron insisted. Then he pulled back and stood a little straighter. “I will follow any order you give me, Tamani. And if you want a dozen scouts crawling over this forest, you shall have them. But they won’t find anything new.”
“What else can we do?” Tamani asked, failing to keep the desperation from his voice. “I have to keep her safe, Aaron.”
Aaron hesitated. “Which one?”
Tamani paused; were they watching Yuki or protecting her? “Both,” he said at last. “These trolls could have been headed for either house. Have we seen anything else?”
“Stripped cow carcasses, paths broken through the trees. The same thing we’ve been seeing for months,” he said, staring toward the horizon. “They’re out there, even if we can’t see them.”
“Any chance it’s been just these two?” Tamani asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Not unless they’re eating for twelve. Or twenty. I think these ones just got sloppy.”
“It’s more than that,” Tamani said, shaking his head. “They seemed almost . . . confused. I’m sure they were surprised to see us, but they weren’t even armed. Mine barely put up a fight.”
“Mine didn’t put up much of a fight either,” Aaron agreed.
“I have to go soon,” Tamani said quietly after a moment. “Laurel is going to Eureka for some kind of test. I’ll be trailing her. You’re in charge of the Wildflower. We haven’t seen Klea in weeks—she should be coming round any day now. If she does, I need you to listen to everything they say and let me know. Even if it’s something you don’t think is relevant. I want to know every word they say.”
Aaron nodded stoically and Tamani turned, sprinting through the forest toward Laurel’s. He slowed to a walk as he approached the tree line behind her house and saw the glow of lights in the kitchen. A wave of warmth washed over him as her face appeared in the window, looking out at the trees. Looking for him.
She didn’t know he was there, but it was easy to pretend otherwise as he watched her. Her eyes were still a little sleepy and she was popping berries into her mouth, one at a time, chewing thoughtfully. He could almost imagine they were having a conversation. Something trivial and meaningless, instead of the weighty discussions they were forced to have these days. Something other than trolls and potions and lies.
When he had accepted—practically begged for—this new mission, he’d assumed he would be able to spend more time with Laurel, recapture the friendship and intimacy they’d known in their youth—something he had felt a little last year when he brought her to Avalon. But that all seemed like a joke now. His duties required him to watch her with David every day, and to spend his time trying to charm someone else. Yuki was nice enough, but she wasn’t Laurel. Nobody was Laurel.
Tamani smiled as Laurel continued to stare out the window. He wanted to step out from behind his tree, just to see what she would do.
There might be time. One conversation over breakfast, about nothing more complicated than the beauty of the sunrise. He had almost worked up the courage to do it when he heard that familiar engine tick. He cursed under his breath as David’s Civic rolled up the driveway. Then he was sprinting again, to the hedge down the street where his own car was parked. He didn’t want to see their greeting, the kisses and embraces that David so casually received.
Someday, Tamani told himself. Someday it’ll be me.
“So?” David asked as they exited the classroom, four hours of testing behind them.
“Don’t ask me yet,” Laurel said, panic creeping into her voice as she shouldered her backpack and walked down the long hall toward the exit and some much-needed sunshine. They’d driven to a high school in Eureka to take the test—the same classroom with no windows. Laurel had felt every minute of her confinement and intended to make up for them as quickly as possible. As she crossed over the shadow of the threshold, a gentle autumn breeze caressed her face. She breathed deeply and stopped walking, spreading her arms to embrace the sunlight. Then she sank down onto the unfamiliar front steps and just savored being done.
After a minute or so, David sat down beside her. “I brought you something.”
He handed her a cold bottle of Sprite he must have just gotten from a vending machine. Even the condensation against her fingertips was revitalizing. “Thanks.”
He waited as she opened the bottle and took a long swallow. “You okay?” he finally asked.
“Better now,” she said with a smile. “I just had to get out of that room.”
“So . . . ,” he said, broaching the subject carefully. “How did it go?”
She smiled. “I think I did okay. Better.”
“Yeah?”
“How ’bout you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hard to say.” He paused. “Boy, I’d like to beat Chelsea though.”
“You’re so bad. Your GPA is, like, point-oh-two better than hers. Can’t you let her win this one?”
David grinned. “We’ve been competing since junior high. It’s all in good fun—I promise.”
Tamani swallowed hard, trying to suppress the niggling fear in his stomach.
“Send out scouts,” Tamani said quietly. “Try to pick up the trail.”
“There is no trail to pick up,” Aaron insisted. Then he pulled back and stood a little straighter. “I will follow any order you give me, Tamani. And if you want a dozen scouts crawling over this forest, you shall have them. But they won’t find anything new.”
“What else can we do?” Tamani asked, failing to keep the desperation from his voice. “I have to keep her safe, Aaron.”
Aaron hesitated. “Which one?”
Tamani paused; were they watching Yuki or protecting her? “Both,” he said at last. “These trolls could have been headed for either house. Have we seen anything else?”
“Stripped cow carcasses, paths broken through the trees. The same thing we’ve been seeing for months,” he said, staring toward the horizon. “They’re out there, even if we can’t see them.”
“Any chance it’s been just these two?” Tamani asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Not unless they’re eating for twelve. Or twenty. I think these ones just got sloppy.”
“It’s more than that,” Tamani said, shaking his head. “They seemed almost . . . confused. I’m sure they were surprised to see us, but they weren’t even armed. Mine barely put up a fight.”
“Mine didn’t put up much of a fight either,” Aaron agreed.
“I have to go soon,” Tamani said quietly after a moment. “Laurel is going to Eureka for some kind of test. I’ll be trailing her. You’re in charge of the Wildflower. We haven’t seen Klea in weeks—she should be coming round any day now. If she does, I need you to listen to everything they say and let me know. Even if it’s something you don’t think is relevant. I want to know every word they say.”
Aaron nodded stoically and Tamani turned, sprinting through the forest toward Laurel’s. He slowed to a walk as he approached the tree line behind her house and saw the glow of lights in the kitchen. A wave of warmth washed over him as her face appeared in the window, looking out at the trees. Looking for him.
She didn’t know he was there, but it was easy to pretend otherwise as he watched her. Her eyes were still a little sleepy and she was popping berries into her mouth, one at a time, chewing thoughtfully. He could almost imagine they were having a conversation. Something trivial and meaningless, instead of the weighty discussions they were forced to have these days. Something other than trolls and potions and lies.
When he had accepted—practically begged for—this new mission, he’d assumed he would be able to spend more time with Laurel, recapture the friendship and intimacy they’d known in their youth—something he had felt a little last year when he brought her to Avalon. But that all seemed like a joke now. His duties required him to watch her with David every day, and to spend his time trying to charm someone else. Yuki was nice enough, but she wasn’t Laurel. Nobody was Laurel.
Tamani smiled as Laurel continued to stare out the window. He wanted to step out from behind his tree, just to see what she would do.
There might be time. One conversation over breakfast, about nothing more complicated than the beauty of the sunrise. He had almost worked up the courage to do it when he heard that familiar engine tick. He cursed under his breath as David’s Civic rolled up the driveway. Then he was sprinting again, to the hedge down the street where his own car was parked. He didn’t want to see their greeting, the kisses and embraces that David so casually received.
Someday, Tamani told himself. Someday it’ll be me.
“So?” David asked as they exited the classroom, four hours of testing behind them.
“Don’t ask me yet,” Laurel said, panic creeping into her voice as she shouldered her backpack and walked down the long hall toward the exit and some much-needed sunshine. They’d driven to a high school in Eureka to take the test—the same classroom with no windows. Laurel had felt every minute of her confinement and intended to make up for them as quickly as possible. As she crossed over the shadow of the threshold, a gentle autumn breeze caressed her face. She breathed deeply and stopped walking, spreading her arms to embrace the sunlight. Then she sank down onto the unfamiliar front steps and just savored being done.
After a minute or so, David sat down beside her. “I brought you something.”
He handed her a cold bottle of Sprite he must have just gotten from a vending machine. Even the condensation against her fingertips was revitalizing. “Thanks.”
He waited as she opened the bottle and took a long swallow. “You okay?” he finally asked.
“Better now,” she said with a smile. “I just had to get out of that room.”
“So . . . ,” he said, broaching the subject carefully. “How did it go?”
She smiled. “I think I did okay. Better.”
“Yeah?”
“How ’bout you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hard to say.” He paused. “Boy, I’d like to beat Chelsea though.”
“You’re so bad. Your GPA is, like, point-oh-two better than hers. Can’t you let her win this one?”
David grinned. “We’ve been competing since junior high. It’s all in good fun—I promise.”
