All the Stars and Teeth(76)
Ari and Raya step in front of me.
At the sight of the children, a woman’s eyes flash with angry concern.
“What were you thinking, bringing people here?” she growls. The corners of her eyes crease as she looks us over, focus lingering on the weapons at our hip. She doesn’t look worried by what she sees.
Though the woman looks maybe only a decade older than I am, her skin is pallid and withered. She wears her black hair fastened into a long braid that curls over her shoulder and sits in heavy plaits below her chest. Her hooded amber eyes narrow with scrutiny.
The axes she wields do not tremble in her firm grip.
“They’re going to help us,” Ari urges, waving for the others to set down their weapons. They ignore him.
“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” I say as Vataea, Bastian, and Ferrick fan out around me. Everyone here whispers when they talk, so I’m careful to follow their lead, not wanting to further upset them. “Like your weapons, ours are for our protection. We’ll only draw them if forced, though I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The woman’s eyes narrow further and she looks Ferrick and Vataea over. The two of them stand closely, hands lifted before them in a display of truce. She looks to Bastian next, eyes sparking with surprise. She flinches, and Bastian mirrors the movement, shoulders hunching as though he intends to wilt into himself.
“I recognize you,” she whispers. “Don’t I? By the gods, you look just like—”
“I used to live here,” Bastian says, cutting her off swiftly. “But it was a long time ago.” Again his hands tremble in his lap as he tilts his head to me in a small nod, quick to take the focus off himself. “We’re all here to try to help. This is the Princess of Visidia, Amora Montara. She had no idea what condition Zudoh was in until now.”
Disbelief paints her features. “How would the princess not know about Zudoh?”
“I ask myself the same thing,” I tell her. “My parents have managed to keep Zudoh’s fate hidden from everyone, not just me. If you put down your weapons, I’ll tell you everything. We want to help.” I’m careful to not seem commanding, knowing that angering anyone with a weapon pointed at my face might not be the wisest move. “We’re here to discuss restoring Zudoh to the kingdom.”
“We found them on the shore,” Raya quietly offers, ignoring the dark-haired woman’s glare. “They were about to head into the woods.”
“How exactly did you get into Zudoh in the first place?” Zale challenges. “No one gets in unless Kaven invites them.”
I point to my hair, slick with algae and sea muck. “If we were invited, I assure you we’d look a little more presentable. Please look at my hair. My clothing. We swam through a wall of dead fish to get here.”
Zale hesitates for a moment, though the tension in her shoulders eases some as she watches me pick a fish eye from my matted hair. Her nose curls, and she waves for those behind her to relax.
As the weapons lower, Ferrick exhales a breath so heavy with relief that it seems to relax the woman at least marginally. She stretches her hand out to me.
I take it swiftly. Her hands are worn and rough, making me immediately aware of how soft mine are in comparison.
“You can call me Zale,” she offers as she nods me forward, leading us toward the camp. Though Ari attempts to stray several paces behind, Zale’s eyes find him regardless, searing into him so fiercely that the boy winces.
“I don’t care if you find one of the gods wandering lost on that shore,” she scolds. “Don’t you dare bring anyone else back here again.”
Ari peeks at me and I flash him an apologetic shrug.
The camp is larger than I expected, and decidedly more thriving. On this side of the cavern, it’s as if the Zudoh we saw upon our arrival was a cruel lie.
Here, Zudoh is bright white sand, healthy green grass, and rows upon rows of tall trees. They’re similar to birch in color, but significantly thicker, with massive roots that weave in and out of the earth like overstuffed worms. In every direction, a ridge of rocky mountains stretches endlessly into the sky, shielding the camp. It’s a clever hiding place.
Their homes are made from the same white wood of the trees, small but sturdy. Like the building back on the shore, strange metallic panels coat their rooftops, though these are significantly smaller and less sleek.
“They help us harness energy from the sun, to keep our homes warm,” Zale explains when she catches me looking. “They store heat during the day, and release it at night.”
We pass a group of Zudians seated around a strange formation of rocks—a taller one in the back, smaller stones around the middle, and nothing in the front. Between the stones is a tunnel of sorts, and in the middle, a raging fire.
But its smoke doesn’t rise into the air. Instead, it filters out through rocks and into the tunnel, leading toward the cavern where a few more people are gathered. They hold canteens in their laps, fill them with water, and then bring them back to the fire, where someone waits with a variety of containers. The water goes into the containers murky, and emerges clear.
They work in a routine—fetching the water, filtering the water through the strange containers, boiling it, filling canteens, and then setting them aside to cool.
Realizing how much I’ve taken our spring water for granted, I try not to stare as we pass, mesmerized by how efficiently they work.