The Poison Season(2)

“What is it?” Her words came out as a croak, clearly the first she’d spoken this morning.

“We’re sorry.” Leelo ducked her head, already retreating. “We didn’t realize how early it was.”

“It isn’t early,” Sage said. “Isola is just lazy.”

Leelo nudged her cousin with her elbow, though Sage had never been known for her tact.

The girl blinked a few times, trying to rouse herself. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be Watching?”

Sage shrugged. “Our shift ended. Nothing was happening, anyway.”

A shadow passed over Isola’s gaze. “Nothing ever happens, until it does.”

It was such a strange thing to say that Leelo wondered if something had occurred on Isola’s Watch, something she and Sage had never heard about. It was entirely possible an outsider had attempted the crossing without all the younger islanders knowing. But any successful breach would have been announced. Outsiders caught by Watchers were always given a choice: the Forest or the lake. Either way, they were never heard from again.

A low voice called Isola’s name from inside the cottage before Leelo could ask what she meant.

“Sorry, that’s my father. I should go.”

Sage rolled her eyes and turned back to the woods, not even bothering with a goodbye. Isola shrugged an apology at Leelo, and she smiled in sympathy, having borne the brunt of Sage’s short temper for seventeen years.

Every rose has its thorn, her mother would remind Leelo after Sage had said or done something cruel. Her cousin was prickly, but she was also strong, intelligent, and fiercely loyal. If Leelo were ever in trouble, she knew Sage would come to her rescue, no questions asked.

They were almost back at their own cottage when movement in the bushes caught Leelo’s eye. A flash of dark hair and pale skin. She stopped and looked around as if she’d just had an idea.

“You’re right, I should get to work on my crown. Take my bow and tell Mama I’ll be home soon?” Sage and her mother had moved in with Leelo’s family when both of their fathers died in a hunting accident, when Tate was still a toddler. It wasn’t unusual for several generations of one family to live together on Endla, but it was rare that two women would be widowed so young, especially sisters.

Fortunately, Leelo’s mother, Fiona, and her aunt, Ketty, were resourceful women. Ketty had taken over tending to her family’s small flock of sheep, which produced the wool Leelo’s mother wove into clothing. Endlans traded for most of their possessions and food, so it was important to have a skill, something that few other people could provide. They weren’t the only shepherds, but Leelo’s mother made the finest woolen goods on the island. Together, the sisters were able to provide for their family, but winters were always lean.

“I can help,” Sage offered, but Leelo shook her head.

“No, no. Aunt Ketty will be expecting you. I won’t be long.”

“Suit yourself.” Sage hefted both bows and went into the house, the little string of bells they kept on the doorframe tinkling as she let the door fall shut behind her. It was several more minutes before Tate dared reveal himself, afraid he’d be caught shirking his duties by his strict aunt.

He had grown so much in the last year Leelo almost didn’t recognize him as the same raven-haired baby she’d helped raise. He was so beautiful he was often mistaken for a girl, at least until he was old enough to walk and people saw him clad in trousers, not skirts.

Ketty had given him his name, calling him as ugly as a potato when he was born. She said it so often that “Tate” stuck, even though everyone knew it wasn’t true. But sometimes, when Leelo’s mother was nursing him to sleep in the middle of the night, Leelo heard her call him Ilu, “precious one,” with a faraway look in her eyes that Leelo had never seen before.

“Come on, then,” Leelo said, waving her brother closer. “You can help me make a crown for the festival.”

He grinned, happy to be involved however he could. Islanders like Tate—incantu, they were called, or “voiceless”—weren’t allowed to attend the festival, even though he wasn’t quite old enough to be affected by the magic yet. Once an islander reached adolescence, generally around age twelve, they were susceptible. But even though she understood the reasoning behind it, Leelo hated the rule. As if the incantu didn’t feel like outcasts already.

They walked in silence for a while, until the trail faded into the undergrowth and they were forced to forge their own path. “What should I choose for my crown?” Leelo asked Tate. It was tradition for each young adult to decorate a crown honoring Endla’s flora or fauna, a way of symbolizing that they were all an important part of its ecosystem. Sage had decided on a deer. Mostly, Leelo surmised, as an excuse to wear something sharp.

Tate chewed on his lower lip for a moment, eager to come up with the right answer. “What about a fox?”

“Hmm... A bit too cunning for me, perhaps.”

He stared at his feet, thinking. “A squirrel?”

Leelo grinned and twitched her nose. “I was thinking of something a little less whiskery.” They had wandered close to the lake, but they weren’t in danger of encountering an outsider here, where the far shore was barely visible.

“A swan!” Tate said suddenly.