The Prophet's Daughter (14 page)

“No fair! You cheated!”
protested Olivia, throwing her cards down and huffing.

“Did not,” I said, lifting a finger as I readied myself to point out why her accusations against me were, in fact, false. I popped a piece of candy in my mouth, chewing on my winnings – some kind of c
hocolate candy the baker had made that Olive had gotten for helping him clean the counters when he’d been too busy to.

“Yes you did! You cheated or I would have won!” she whined, crossing her arms and glowering at me, pushing her own pile of won candies be
hind her.

“If you keep that attitude up, I’m not taking you training tonight,” I stated, raising an eyebrow and staring at her. My words registered fast in her ear, for as she opened her mouth to protest, and instead she just grunted.

“Fine, cheater.” Her words were mumbled under her breath, her lip quivering a slight pout.

“Olive,” I said with a stern voice, beginning to pick up the cards.

“I’m sorry!” She yelled before getting up and storming out of the tent. I watched her go, shaking my head and sighing. I began to pick up the cards, shifting my body in the slightest movement to grab Olive’s cards.

It had been a little over two weeks since the plane crash, and so far no sign of Isaac or Neil. I could not walk without aid yet, however, and often could only
make a few steps before the pain became too much and I collapsed. Felicity was patient, however, and made sure I didn’t overdue my workouts no matter how hard I pushed. I wanted to get better, but I knew that I would never get better if I didn’t let myself. Overexerting my body could only risk more damage, which would mean I had to wait far longer to leave.

Olive, a few minutes later, came into the tent, the previous sour look on her face wiped and replaced with one of sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Arin,” she whispered, fingers fidgeting as she shifted where she sat, frowning.

“It’s alright, but if you do it again, we will stop training.” I hated to threaten her – I hated threatening anyone, really – but it took a lot out of me to train her, and I couldn’t be bothere
d to waste what little energy I had to teach her if she wasn’t going to be respectful.

“I know,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. For a few following moments we sat in silence as I picked up the cards, shuffling them and moving them back into the box they
belonged in.

“So your birthday is coming up soon,” I said, setting box down beside me.

“Yeah,” she responded, shrugging. “Why?” “What do you do on your birthday?” I asked.

“It’s the same as all the other winter-born like me. We get together and have a real
ly big feast and no one has to do anything all day – we just get to play games and have fun and eat.” She spoke of the day with a smile on her face, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes.

“It sounds fun,” I said. “Remind me what a winter-born is?”

“People, like me, born during the winter! We celebrate everybody’s birthdays three times in the season. Once in the beginning when the snow first sticks, once when the snow gets really deep and the trees have no more leaves and then once when it first melts away, when the trees begin to bud for the spring and are in full bloom. Usually, near the last celebration, the days get really hot and long for the summer-born and the leaves begin to change color,” she explained, a small grin playing on her lips.

“Oh,”
I said with a nod. “That sounds pretty fun. Why do winterborn have three birthdays? Are you excited?”

“Oh yeah! Winter is really long, so we have three birthday celebration days. It’s still a few weeks away until my celebration day, but I’m excited,” Oliv
e laughed. “When’s your birthday, Arin?”

“My birthday? It’s in fall. I turned sixteen a few months ago,” I answered, laughing at the memory.

“Whoa really? My Mumma’s birthday is in fall, too. Did you get a present?”

“We went out hunting, my Mum and dad and
I. The leaves had just begun to fall and the weather was still somewhat warm but it was also kind of cold,” I began, trailing off as I smiled at the memory. I stared at my feet as I recollected the only memory I had of my parents where I could remember their faces. It was the first time in a long while that we had managed to talk my mother into leaving the house…

“I got a really pretty necklace from my Mumma,” Olive stated, interrupting my lost train of thought. “See?” She pulled at a chain around her neck
that I hadn’t noticed before, a small heart-shaped emerald stone dangling from the chain.

“It is very pretty,” I said with a small smile. “Beautiful.” I was somewhat surprised that I hadn’t noticed her necklace before, but I supposed I wasn’t as observant
as I had liked to think. After all, I had trusted Seth and Isaac with ease despite previous warnings, and I was trusting Felicity – not like I had much of a choice, though.

“Do you want it?” Olivia asked, reaching behind her head and fumbling with the nec
klace’s latch.

“No, Olive, I don’t.” I shook my head and reached towards her, pressing my hand against her arm. “It’s very beautiful, but it’s yours.” I smiled.

“Oh, okay,” she said, sounding somewhat disappointed. “Maybe you’ll get one for your birthday.”

“I don’t know,” I laughed, shrugging. “That’s a while away now, kiddo.”

“Indeed it is,” interjected Felicity as she came into the tent, looking at the both of us. Tucked beneath her arms were two long, padded objects that were about three quarters of my height – half of them were still sticking out of the tent.

“Wassat?” Olivia asked as she spotted her mother and the strange objects she carried.

“Crutches for Arin,” she responded. “To help her leg get better.”

“Oh?” I looked at the crutches. “How?”

“Keep you upright while you’re walking,” she said. “Keep your legs strong while you’re leg is getting better. You shouldn’t need them for too long – a month at most. After that, well see if you can walk or not.”

“A month?” I gasped, staring at her with wide eyes.
“But…”

“I know, but you have to give it time or you’ll just ruin your leg,” she paused. “Olive, can you go see Dana? I think she may need help with the baby.”

“Tyson?” Olive asked, jumping up. “Doctor Olive to the rescue!” She bolted out of the tent, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“She’s spirited,” I said as I laughed, shaking my head.

“Quite a kid,” Felicity sighed. “Anyway, your leg. You have to give it time, okay? I know you don’t want to stay, but that’s just how it has to be for now. It’ll make our walks easier, too. This way we can move at an easier pace for your and you don’t have to lean on me.”

“Right,” I muttered with a nod, trying hard not to frown. “It’s getting cold, though. I was hoping to leave and find somewhere not in a tent.”

“Speaking of,” began Felicity, catching my gaze. “To make it easier for me to keep an eye on you, and to keep you out of the cold, we’re moving you into my cottage for the winter.” She flashed a tiny smile. “You’ll be able to keep Olive under control when I’m busy.”

S
o full time babysitter,
I thought. I didn’t mind, and so I just nodded. Olivia was a good kid, and despite her moments I doubted I would have much trouble.

“We’ll go for a walk with these tonight,” she gestured towards
the wooden poles, “but first I want to show you how to use them.” Felicity stepped backwards and set the crutches down outside before leaning into the tent, offering me a hand. I grabbed onto to it, unable to keep the grimace off my face as she pulled me to my feet. I stood in a crouch for a few seconds, and I tried hard not to slump back to the ground, but the struggle of standing up was far worse than staying up.

“That’s a workout and a half,” I breathed, patting my throbbing leg as I moved into a full st
anding position, taking the few steps out of the tent before leaning against Felicity. My leg had begun to heal a lot faster than Felicity had anticipated, as we had discovered that most of the problem was the burns and a rather large gash in the back of my leg – it would have killed me had it been much deeper.  The burns, however, weren’t as major as we had thought, but they were significant enough to make walking a struggle along with the wound.

“It’ll get easier,” she said, moving around me and shifting
the crutches beneath my arms. She moved my hands into place, and nodded. “Okay, now try walking with them, but instead of putting a lot of weight on your leg, put it into the crutch.”

I did as instructed, hobbling a few steps forwards before I wobbled. I
would have fallen if she had not caught me.

“You’ll get used to them,” she murmured more to herself than to me.

“I hope,” I said. “They aren’t very comfortable.”

“It’s all we have,” she said. “By the way, I checked on your leg
earlier. It’s getting better, a lot better than it was.”

“Good, considering the whole infection scare last week,” I murmured, a shiver running down my spine both at the memory and the gust of air that blew around us. It was cold, and with the snow sticking
to the ground and piling ever higher each night, it would only get colder.

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t infected, sweetheart,” said Felicity, moving her hand to lightly pat me on the back. “Olive’s going to be with Dana and Tyson for a few hours.”

“Who?” I interrupted, moving away from her hand.

“Other people in the community,” she answered, narrowing her eyes. “As I was saying, she will be there for a few hours, so we might as well go for that walk now.”

“Oh,” I said, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “Might as well.”

Each step we took on our brief walk was met with trouble. I was far from used to the crutches, but each time I used my leg I threatened to tear the stitches. One thing that I had learned, however, was that my feet no longer protested w
ith each step and my muscles no longer screamed in resistance. Instead, the only struggles and pain was the movement of my burned skin rubbing against my pants and the feeling of the crutch digging into my armpit.

Silence dragged around us, the sound of o
ur foot falls so much louder in the agonizing noiseless expanse around us. I wanted to talk, to break it, but I had no clue what to say or how to say it. Everything that came to mind, every word and every fleeting thought, all felt to be too personal, too much to ask – overstepping my boundaries.

“There’s something on your mind,” burst Felicity, and I paused mid-step at her sudden words.

“What?” I responded, shifting on my crutches to look over at her. She had stopped walking a step or so behind me and looked at me, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

“Something is wrong and I want to know what.”

What isn’t wrong?
I thought, clenching my hands into a fist around the crutches. I wanted to say so much, spew words of anger about everything that happened and I wanted to learn about my father, my true father, and my mother and how evil she had been. I wanted to know the truth I had been denied.

“I’m just thinking,” I answered with a brief shrug. “You don’t need to worry.”

Continuing down our usual route, which was a winding path worn by dozens of feet that lead through the tents where the wounded and sick lay - most were not in use, but every so often one would be filled with a coughing  citizen or a wounded hunter. I was the only one who wouldn’t be out within the week. Not long after the tents came the denser areas of the forest lined with wooden cottages, candlelight flickering in their windows, casting shadows across the snow laden forest.

“Most of these buildings,” Felicity had stated, “were built by people in the
community. With the cities full of infected and groups of people who would slit your throat for a day's meal, they decided to settle in here - away from the cities, from everything.”

“It’s quiet,” I murmured as I listened to her statements. “I like it.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Some days it seems like it’s never going to end, though.. the silence; it’s a sign of death - of fear. Silence is never a good thing unless we desire it.” She crossed her arms, eyes downcast and saddened.

“I suppose,” I whispered, eye
s widened. Her words were morbid and dark - I had never heard her speak in such a way. “But it’s nice for now.”

“For now.” Her voice was soft, her eyes trained on the ground before her. Her eyebrows were pulled down, creases formed in her
forehead. She was thinking, but what about?

We walked again, a few minutes of silence filling the time before any of us spoke again. That time, I was the one with the questions.

“Felicity?” I began and stopped a few steps behind her.

“Yeah?” She stopped, p
ivoting to face me.

“What do you know about the Raiders?” I paused, swallowing hard. “About my father?”

“I know enough,” she responded, her voice slow and drawn out. She was hesitant to answer my questions.

“Like what?” I continued, stepping towards her so
that there was only a step and a half between us.