The Gatherer (Brilliant Darkness 2.5) Read Free Page B

move until dawn tomorrow."
    Let his belly be empty and see how it feels. Let him fear who or what may find him here, unable to move. The corners of my mouth lift as I think of him soiling himself, listening for wailers while the sun and moon take their leisurely strolls across the sky. The man's face contorts with fear, but he crawls to the tree without hesitation.
    I turn to the woman, who flinches.
    "Go where you will," I say gently.
    Breathing hard, eyes still sparking with fear, she scuttles away. If she had shown the slightest hint of courage, I might have taken her with me to the Cloister. But it would have been cruel; this one was no Sister. She would have been sent away again in a matter of weeks. Perhaps she has people nearby she can join. At least she is free from
this
 filth.
    I clean and sheath my knife and look for the girl. The fog has thinned enough that she is now visible. She crouches where I left her, but she must have seen everything.
    Her eyes brim with silent questions but little fear as she stares at the man sitting obediently against the tree. I help her up. I have chosen well.

5.
    The girl and I jog on, hugging the bank of the Restless. I do not allow our pace to slow; her father and his companions may still hunt us.
    The mist clears completely, revealing the river country. The Restless is wide and dark. Her banks curve through the forest, holding the mad rushing water tenderly between them. The other side lies far enough away to be a difficult swim, but near enough to be easily seen. Thanks to the turbulence, the water is opaque. The Teachers told us the fish that ruled the Restless in the old days died out when the wailers came.
    Trees—much smaller than greenhearts—arch over the river. The girl and I climb around them, stepping past downed trunks and low bushes. There is no path along this stretch of the Restless as there are along others. Few communities are nearby, and the wailers do not seem to know or care how to keep a trail cleared.
    At a high point, I stop to peer behind us. To my dismay, the three men are there, miniaturized in the distance.
    We could enter the forest to our right and hide, but I don't want them to pass us, separating us from the Cloister. I could fall back and sting the men, but the odds of that fight are not good. And I would have to kill at least one in order to subdue the others. The girl's integration to the children's compound will be difficult enough without witnessing me slitting the throats of her kinsmen. It is best to stay ahead of them.
    I push her faster. It is a race, one I will not lose.
    The ground begins to undulate in front of us. This stretch of land rises up, well above the river. We run straight up a hill.
    The last bit of the climb is steep. We use rocks and exposed roots to pull ourselves to the top; I help the girl when she requires it. As we scramble to our feet at the crest, I notice the vicious stink.
    Wailers .
    A small group of the creatures shambles around the almost-bare plateau. Blood smeared and grimy, with infected sores on the skin of their bare limbs and disfigured faces, their veined eyes roll to the girl and me.
    Their moans turn to screams of rage and hunger. They hurtle toward us.
    Get to high ground.
    Dragging the girl, I sprint for the few paltry trees perched at the edge of the cliff, leaning over the river. They will have to do.
    The creatures close the distance between us with always-astonishing speed. Their shrieks pull chill bumps from my skin. When the child's feet slide in the dewy grass, I hold her upright.
    The trees hanging out over the Restless are not nearly lofty enough to be completely out of reach when climbed. We have no choice. I squat next to the tallest and sturdiest and lace my fingers together for the girl.
    "Give me your foot! Jump!"
    She steps into my hands, and I launch her up. As soon as I'm sure she will not fall, I leap and grab the lowest branch with one hand. The wailers are there a moment