Page 2 of Of Withering Dreams
Though most trees clutched dying, cord-like branches and bundles of parched, awl-shaped needles, there were still several clinging to life. Various shades of green painted the wiry, pointed leaves closest to the canopy, even though their brethren below were pallid shades of beige and yellow. There was resilience in sporadic patches of healthy bark, ripe with an auburn shade as deep as the color of my windswept curls.
When the trees looked healthier, I knew we were closer to home, their graying trunks not yet defeated. My little sister Alette used to say our entire cottage could fit inside the base of a grymwood tree trunk. Our upstairs neighbors would be the critters surviving in the branches grasping at the sky.
A small smile threatened to overtake the straight line of my lips, pressed together in determination. I peeked at the back of Letti’s golden hair, sweeping her shoulders with every step. Her back straight as a grymwood, she walked well ahead. Our father Gideon was beside her on the northern path toward home, toward Evergryn. Even without the rays of light, her messy curls still shimmered like a sunset’s reflection bouncing atop ocean currents.
She wasn’t so little anymore, going on eighteen. Tomorrow, I was turning twenty-one, and I longed for those times when her big hazel eyes shone brightly. When we both were full of mystical notions and endless hope.
I sighed and looked toward the obscured dirt path we traversed, adjusting the bulky bag on my shoulder. We had been hiking home for the last couple of days without enough rest, food, or water. The Larkins, our closest neighbors, journeyed with us.
My body was so fatigued that if I stopped walking, I thought I might sink into the desiccated dirt and never move again. I’d be buried under dead grym needles. Held down by the colossal roots, draining me of my body’s moisture.
Just as my macabre musings spiraled further, something tiny but solid bounced off my cheek. I jumped in surprise, causing my bag to fall off my shoulder and onto the dirt. “By the Ancients, what wasthat?”
“Ah, there you are, Seryn. I was wondering if you were still with us.” Kaden, my soon-to-be ex-best friend, chuckled, dropping the rest of the small pebbles he had ready in his palm. His words always sounded like they were hanging on the tail end of a grin.
His older brother Gavrel was a few steps ahead of us but glanced back at me, my hand still touching my cheek where the pebble had struck. Assessing there wasn’t any real danger or damage, he glowered at Kaden and then turned back, marching forward while muttering something like, “You know the Ancients aren’t listening anymore.”
I lifted my bag with a wry grin pasted on my face. Brushing off the dead needles and dirt, I flicked the remnants at Kaden. “You could have hit me in the eye, you brute. I have a mind to stab you with grym needles right in your tender bits, Kade Larkin!”
He pivoted to the side of the path, avoiding the small spray of earth. My scolding didn’t hold any weight, and he knew it. His smirk made that clear. I could never stay upset with him for long.
Kaden came to walk next to me again, adjusting his own bag and helping me pull mine atop my shoulder. I plucked a random bit of dry moss from the end of his dark, shaggy hair, the color of rich soot left after a burned log.
“I would never dream of poking you in the eye! How dare you. You wound me,” he declared, clutching his chest.
I scoffed and thumped him on the arm, mirroring his bright smile. We trudged on wordlessly, the crunches of pebbles and brittle twigs breaking beneath our feet audible. A few solemn ravens scrutinized our progress, perching on petrified grymwood branches. Kaden scratched the back of his neck and broke the quiet. “What were you daydreaming about, Ser? It looked pretty dire.”
“Just thinking about when we were little and thought we could live in the grymwood trunks. So many more of them were alive back then.” I shrugged my shoulder free from the weight of my bag. “Remember all the birds and animals we used to see? Especially in our meadow with the big hill? Everything is disintegrating around us nowadays,” I huffed, swatting at an errant curl tickling my forehead. “The journey back from this Rationing has been …”
“Absolute shit?” Kaden scoffed.
I snickered, nodding in agreement. “Not to mention the food rations aren’t as helpful as they used to be. It doesn’t even matter we don’t have a horse and wagon anymore—everything we’re provided fits on our backs.” My eyes stung thinking of our old, chestnut-colored stallion, Alweo. He passed on several turns ago.
Kaden’s brows furrowed, and his ever-present grin faded. “It’s absolute rubbish that the Elders and their followers live comfortably while the rest of us scrounge together for food and water.”
“Keep your voices down, you two,” Gavrel hissed, spinning around. His scowl etched deeper into his lips. “Are you trying to get yourselves culled?”
“Take it easy, Gav.” Kaden slapped a big hand on his brother’s tense shoulder. “Who is going to report us? Ah, watch your back. That little gnat by your ear looks damn suspicious.” Kaden wiggled his fingers near his brother’s ear.
“Be serious.” Gavrel brushed Kaden’s hand away. “We know the Elders have ears everywhere. Not to mention the reach their embers have.” His visage fell and softened for a fleeting moment. I blinked, wondering if I had imagined it.
“We all miss her, Gav. We miss … all of them. We’ll be more cautious,” I murmured, gently squeezing his hand. Gavrel’s emerald eyes flashed, and his gaze diverted to our embracing hands. Blinking once, he dipped his head and turned, walking faster ahead.
Kaden and I continued onwards. “He’s right, you know. You need to be careful with how you speak of the Elders,” I muttered.
“I think you should be less careful.” I bumped my shoulder into his arm, squinting my eyes at him. He sighed, dipping his head. “Fine. I’ll try, but I won’t like it.” After a moment, he murmured, “He’s never been the same since Ma was culled.”
“I know.” My arm slipped around his waist. Their mother, Hestia Larkin, had been accused of using ember, or mystical powers, to help her family avoid the Dormancy. This was back when Gavrel was eighteen turns, and Kaden and I were thirteen.
No one knew who had made the accusation—most likely one of the Somneia, the Elders’ covert network of spies. It’s not like it mattered when the consequence had been so swift and without inquiry. Their father had unexpectedly died the following turn. A heart condition was the suspected culprit.
“I know you do, Ser, and I’m sorry for that, too.” Kaden took my bag from my shoulder and carried it in one hand, relieving me of the burden. Around my shoulders, he draped his other arm, solid as the thick trunks surveying us. His warmth soaked into my side, easing the dull ache burrowing inside my chest.
The fog was thinning a bit. I noticed the faint, sweet floral scent mingling with moss in the air. We were almost to the meadow we played in as children, and home was less than an hour’s walk beyond that. The meadow wasn’t bursting with life as it was then, but it was clinging to life all the same. Like most of the people in our realm—Midst Fall.
As we approached the field, I paused and breathed deeply in awe. A small red astra poppy emerged from a patch of tall, dried grass. I caressed one fanned petal, the vermilion hue melting into its midnight-colored center. A vibrating energy hummed along my fingertips, and I longed to absorb some of the bloom’s courage.
“These always were your favorite,” Letti whispered, crouching to smell another cerise flower. “Isn’t it incredible that something so vulnerable can survive—can find the strength to grow—even when the world is crumbling around it?”
