Warrior of the Wild(14)

Then my eyes land on Torrin.

I want to curl into myself, hide my face from the world, from the shame, from the knowledge of what he did to me. From what will happen to me.

But then rage strikes like a bolt of lightning, infusing my limbs, making me forget all else.

Before I realize I’ve even moved, he’s flat on his back. I must have kicked him in the stomach.

“You bastard. You disgusting, pathetic, lying worm—” I hurt every inch of him I can get my hands on. It’s a good thing I dropped my ax when the venom took over, otherwise he might no longer have a head. As it is, I’ve knocked the wind out of him, so he’s unable to defend himself from my blows. His so-called friends just laugh at the display, but I don’t spare them a glance. I’m determined to have at Torrin until his own mother won’t be able to recognize him.

A strong set of arms yanks me back. “Rasmira!” my father shouts.

I try to pull against him. Torrin needs to suffer. He needs to be the one twitching on the ground while everyone watches.

“You will calm yourself, now!”

“He set me up,” I yell back. “I didn’t get bitten. It was him. All of them. They—”

He slaps me.

The shock is enough to distract me from my need to disfigure Torrin. My father has never struck me. He’s never needed to. I have always been his perfect child. His favorite. But as I look into his eyes now, I can see nothing but disappointment. Anger. Even hate. As though he is the one about to be sentenced to death in the wild.

I collect myself, breathing in and out slowly. This time, with no mania, I try to explain again, loudly for all to hear. “I was not bitten by one of the creatures. He clamped one of the severed head’s teeth onto my arm. They’re trying to get me banished. I swear it, Father.”

A group of the village elders stand behind my father. Edelmar, the oldest and wisest of them all, speaks up. “Can anyone confirm Rasmira’s story? Did anyone see?”

I look around, but I now realize the reason for Havard’s battle cry. He drew everyone’s attention to him, and Torrin was so close to me, he could have easily ruined me without anyone noticing.

My eyes land on my mother.

She saw.

I’d looked up and seen her watching me. I remember. She saw the whole thing. She can save my life.

“Mother?” I plead.

Uncertainty crosses her face for a moment. She has an important choice to make. One that could change her life and mine.

Finally, she says, “I cannot lie. The goddess forbids it. I won’t do it, not even for my own daughter. I saw nothing.”

Whatever hope I might have been clinging to vanishes. I vanish, blowing away on the next gentle breeze. My world has ended, and I can’t feel anything anymore. I am only a collection of thoughts.

The odds that nobody saw what truly happened are so slim, but no one would dare refute my mother. Not the village beauty. The wife of their leader. Not when they could use their knowledge of the truth to gain favor with her.

“Very well, then,” Father says. His voice is calculated, free of emotion. “Rasmira Bendrauggo, daughter of Torlhon, you are to be banished. You have until morning to prepare yourself for the wild. By that time, the council will decide your mattugr.”



* * *



IT REQUIRES ALL MY concentration just to put one foot in front of the other. Hundreds of eyes burn into my back. I can feel them even if I can’t see them judging me. When at last I step into my home, I allow my shoulders to slump, my head to fall.

I head for my bedroom. I need to pack.

I need to think.

I need to breathe.

My thoughts jumble together as I try to remember all the supplies I will need for the wild. Hides, food, candles, flint and pyrite, soap, water flask, blanket, whetstone, oil.

I crouch down to my knees to look under the bed for a leather pack to store it all. Instead my eyes land on the jewelry box.

Mother’s earrings are inside.

Before I even know what’s happening, the box is in my hands and I’m hurling it across the room. A scream fills my ears. My scream.

The box shatters as it hits the wall, and the light from my window flashes across the gemstones as they rain to the ground. I rip the ax from my back and let it clatter to the floor. I slam a fist into my feather-stuffed pillow. My eyes and nose burn.

I come apart where no one can see and no one can hear.



* * *



SOMETIME LATER, I lie in bed, staring at the rock ceiling. I’ve already finished filling my pack with provisions. There is nothing to do now but wait.

It seems as though my memory must be faulty. Some nightmare that I’ve confused with reality. But as I listen to the sounds of the village’s celebration, I remember that I’m not invited. I am not an adult like the rest of the warriors of my age group. I’m an outcast.

I hear the door to the house slam shut. A rush of footsteps. Then my door bursts open, Irrenia spilling in, her arms barely containing an assortment of objects.

“Sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” she says. “I had to grab a few things.” She sets everything on the floor and starts sifting through it. “Fever reducer,” she says, holding up a few leaves in a glass jar. “Pain reliever.” She raises a bottle of rosy pink liquid. “Muscle relaxant. This one wards off infection, and—”