Page 49 of Fable for the End of the World

She starts out of the cave, beckoning me after her. I follow slowly, still unsteady on my feet. As she steps into the sun, the light casts a dappled pattern on her face, drawing out the flecks of green in her eyes. I freeze for a moment, just watching her.

Inesa pauses, too. “Come on. I’m not going to try to poison you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I bite back, too quickly.

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Then let’s go.”

That’s not what I’m worried about, her killing me. Not anymore. If I unfold my fingers, I can still feel the warmth her hand left behind. And if I close my eyes, I can see her face from my dream, the playful quirk of her lips, the dancing, mischievous gaze. I sling my rifle over my shoulder and blink repeatedly, trying to dispel the images. They’re more alarming to me than a knife to the throat.

I stand still and let the coldness seep back into my bones, ice forming a wall around my heart. When the time comes, I know I can still find the strength to kill her.

Inesa is not quite the unflappable navigator I hoped she would be. Once we’re out of the cave and into a small clearing, she pauses. Her eyes dart around uncertainly. Then she walks over to a tree and examines its lichen-crusted trunk.

After a few moments, she says, “This way.”

“Which way?”

She indicates with her chin. “South.”

“Why south?”

“The farther north you get into the outlying Counties, thewilder the woods are,” she says. “We’re looking for civilization, right? That means our best bet is south.”

It’s logical enough. “How do you know which way is south?”

“The way the moss grows on the rocks and the trees,” she says. “It’s usually on the north side, where it’s darker and damper.”

The wordusuallydoesn’t fill me with unreserved faith, but Inesa’s tone is assured. “Where did you learn that?”

“My dad.” She doesn’t look up when she says it, and there’s a faint tremor in her voice. “He wasn’t good for much, but survival was kind of his specialty.”

Her father, the one who fell off Caerus’s grid. Or maybe jumped off. I don’t want to let Inesa know I’ve been briefed on her background; I feel creepy, suddenly, carrying around secrets I shouldn’t have. Secrets that should be hers to keep. But Caerus sees everything, and through them, so do I.

We walk without speaking for a while, under the deep-green canopy, through the clutter of fallen leaves and the damp soil. Now that the withdrawal has mostly passed and my exhaustion has ebbed, the moist air doesn’t feel quite so oppressive. There’s a strange clarity to it, a coolness that isn’t artificial, like what we breathe inside the City buildings. No air conditioners rattling away in the background—just the trees, quietly and gently stretching their branches over our heads.

Inesa stops so suddenly that I have to skid to a halt to avoid crashing into her. She crouches down and says, “Look.”

I squint over her shoulder, but I don’t see anything except mud and mashed leaves. “What?”

“Deer tracks,” she says triumphantly. “That means they’re close. And if they’re close, water is nearby, too. Every creature needs to drink, so animals tend to stick near a source of water.”

I would never have noticed the small indentation in the earth, and I certainly wouldn’t have identified it as evidence of animal life. Studying it carefully, I can make out the vague outline of a hoof. Maybe. But then it stretches outward, in five odd, uneven points.

“It doesn’t look like a deer print,” I say at last.

“Most of the deer don’t have hooves anymore,” Inesa says. “They’re mutations. They have webbed feet. Even scales, some of them.”

The idea of a deer with scales and webbed feet makes my skin chill. “I’m not eating one of those.”

And, then, unexpectedly, Inesa laughs. It’s a clear, bright sound, like water from a spout. “No, that would be a bad idea.”

“You said that’s how the Wends become Wends.” I can hazily recall the conversation we had before I passed out, when the withdrawal was still clouding my senses. “By eating the mutations.”

She nods.

“And you said the mutations are outcompeting the unchanged animals,” I say. “So the Wends must be outcompeting people.”

Inesa doesn’t reply. She glances away from me, casting her gaze around the clearing. Her eyes are shining and slightly damp, but they’re elsewhere. Watching something that’s invisible to me. Replaying a memory I wasn’t briefed on. A secret she’s managed to keep.

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