Finder's Shore Read Free Page B

sounds but the distant bleat of a goat, awake and lonely in the night. Ronan shrugs.
    “Does it ever feel as though you’re fenced in, rather than others fenced out?”
    For a moment I think he intends not to answer. “At night sometimes.”
    “I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to make peace with the Paras. Surely —”
    The shriek of a siren interrupts me. Bodies tumble from the buildings, feet pounding around us. Ronan’s face shines white as a searchlight picks us out.
    “What’s going on?” The siren’s shrill howl drowns out my voice. 
    Ronan shakes his head. There’s a shout, then another, punctuated by the crack of a rifle. I recoil. Though I’ve not heard the sound in a year, all the fear and horror it carries is waiting. Ronan pulls me back against the wall as memories of the assault last summer pour, smothering as quicksand, through my head.
    Silence, sudden and loud. My breath is coming hard.
    “It’s probably a false alarm. It happens sometimes.”
    My legs feel boneless beneath me.
    Brenon’s clipped tones snap the silence and a dozen scouts slip in single file through the gate. It’s barely closed behind them when Truso shouts, his voice an anchor I grasp onto. Bounding from one of the sentry platforms, he tugs at the gate latch. Brenon calls a warning but Truso ignores him. I snatch several breaths, willing my body calm.
    “Are you all right, Ness?”
    “I’m fine,” I say, though it doesn’t feel true. Ronan’s hand steadies me. I blink at the concern in his eyes.
    Truso bellows my name as he strides back into the enclosure. At his side, a woman sags limply. I start forward. Her feet weave a staggering path as they cross the compound, scouts milling around them.
    “Get her into the med room,” I say, my voice brittle in my ears, my mind already weighing explanations for the blood that soaks her clothes.

CHAPTER 3
    Truso’s face is clamped and tight as he lifts the woman — girl — onto the high bed. “Flet,” she says. “Please, look after Flet. I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I couldn’t!” She gasps for breath, her eyes flaring like those of a wild creature caught in a snare.
    “They’re bringing him in now,” Truso says.
    “Please.” The girl clutches my arm. “Flet.”
    “Hush now. It’s all right. He’ll be here soon.” She slumps back against the pillows. “What’s your name?” I ask as I check her pulse.
    “Her name is Hetti,” Truso says. “She’s been missing for a year.”
    Our eyes lock and hold while I let his words expand till I have their full meaning. When I turn back to face her, my chest is tight with grief.
    “Hetti, my name is Ness. I’m going to check your injuries. Is there anything you can tell me? Anywhere you hurt?”
    Slow tears slide down Hetti’s cheeks, cutting a path through the grime. She smells of sweat and fear and blood. The last, at least, proves largely not her own, though there are bruises and cuts on her arms and face. Worse is the scarring I find. As I study the reddened line that circles her neck — from a rope, most likely — she reaches a clawed hand to my wrist. “They punished him for helping me. Please, you have to save him!”
    I unlock her fingers and lay her hand on the bed. “I will. Just rest now.” I turn to Truso. “Can you find out where he is?”
    He’s not long gone when the door opens, the intrusion causing Hetti to curl into a defensive ball. Jofeia looks first at the girl on the bed then at me. “Truso asked me to bring you these,” she says, setting a steaming kettle and a bundle of clothes on the desk.
    I fill a basin and begin to wash away the blood and dirt that cakes Hetti’s skin. When I’m done she looks younger, which tallies if I understood Truso right, and Hetti was one of the girls living at Summertops when the Paras attacked last summer.
    When Truso puts his head through the door, I glance at Jofeia. “Stay with her a moment.”
    I join him outside the room. “How is she?”