Water & Storm Country (40 page)

“Yah?”

His only response is a hard-packed snowball
to my gut. We’ve reached the snowfields.

I respond in turn, pelting him with a
slushball that’s filled with gravel and twigs. And then we’re both
whooping, relishing the powdery snow beneath our boots, our legs
churning, suddenly zinging with energy, carrying us up the slope.
We reach a rise, laughing, panting, elbows on knees.

This is ice country. This is my home. Wilde’s
revelation echoes in my ears:

The Glassies spoke of the risk of the Icers
too. How now that King Goff has been overthrown they can’t trust
the people of ice country either. They said they want to cleanse
the lands from the desert to the mountains to the sea.

If the Glassies want to kill us, let them
try. We’ll fight for our lives the same way I fought for my sister,
Jolie.

They’re forcing us into a war. The Icers
too. We’ll have to stand together.

Wilde’s words grate against my teeth. If it’s
a war the Glassies want, we’ll give it to them. We will stand. We
will fight. We will win.

“Hey, relax,” Buff says, slapping my
shoulder. “Let’s get there first, then we’ll think about what has
to be done.” As usual, my friend is able to read me like a book.
Hiding emotions has never been my thing.

I flash a false smile and continue on up the
mountain.

At some point, the snow starts falling, a
handful of lazy flakes meandering on a light breeze, painting
everything white. We trudge on, the hours falling under the soles
of our thick, bearskin boots. I wonder where Skye is, whether her
and Wilde and Siena have met up with their spies yet, whether
they’re making their way back toward wherever the Tri-Tribes are
camped out.

The Unity Alliance
. The Tri-Tribes—the
Heaters, the Wilde Ones, the Marked—and us, the Icers, joined
together as one. Stronger together than apart. Fighting together is
our only hope against the Glassies. Now all I have to do is
convince the new government. Shouldn’t be too hard, especially
considering my friend Yo is one of the new leaders, a member of the
freshly created consortium. He represents the Brown District. Funny
how quickly things change. Just a few weeks ago Yo was just a
bartender, a businessman, a tavern owner. Now he’s helping to shape
the future of my people.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice when
Buff stops me with an arm. “Wha-what?” I say. Then I see it. The
edge of the village, the first houses. The Brown District.

And I can’t stop my feet because they have a
mind of their own, and Buff is right behind me, and we’re able to
run fast now because the snow is hard-packed and trampled from
people’s feet and carts and kids running and playing. Houses blur
past on either side, some black and charred, still not repaired
from the attack by the Stormer Riders, others being rebuilt by men
who are hammering away, clinging to roofs, climbing ladders,
bandying together to help one another like people should. A swell
of pride fills my chest but I don’t stop—can’t stop—to enjoy it,
because I’m so close…so very close.

A familiar shack of a house appears on the
right, and I’m not surprised when Buff manages a burst of speed to
pass me, barging through the door like a battering ram, his
boulder-like frame thudding solidly against the wood. I follow him
through.

A half a dozen kids are attacking Buff,
leaping on his back, hugging his legs, toppling him to the floor.
His brothers and sisters, welcoming him home. Only the eldest, his
sister Darcy, stands back from the fray, her hands on her hips.
“Buff, if you insist on charging into the house like a Yag, please
at least remove your snowy boots.”

But she’s smiling as Buff peels his siblings
off him, regaining his feet and kicking off his boots in the
process. “Always keeping order in the chaos,” Buff says, embracing
her. “What would we do without you?”

“We’d be forced to eat a lot of raw meat,” a
voice says to my left. Buff’s father lifts up off the bed he was
sitting on, using a wooden crutch to get his balance. His leg is
wrapped tightly with thick cloth. “Your sister is every bit as good
a cook as your mother was.”

He hobbles over, nods in my direction.
“Dazz,” he says.

“Sir,” I say. “Good to see you on your
feet.”

“Good to see you home. Both of you.” His
voice cracks and I can see the deep lines of worry on his face. And
then Buff’s arms are wrapped around his neck and they’re hugging
like only a father and a son can hug.

A pang of desire hits me in the chest,
causing my heart to speed up. I can’t hug my father, not where he
is, but my mother, my sister, are waiting. Worrying. I can’t linger
here any longer. “Go,” Buff’s father says over his son’s shoulder.
“And thank you for bringing Buff home to me,” he adds, as if I was
his sole protector.

As I exit into the snow, I call back, “He
brought me home, too,” and then I’m running up the hill to the next
row of houses, where through the light snowfall I can just make out
a familiar house—and then I freeze because—

—in front of the house—

—playing in the snow—

—like she didn’t spend a week in bed
recovering from a knife wound—

—like I never left her—

—is Jolie, building a man out of snow.

And then, as if sensing my presence, she
turns, her nose red and her eyes clear and bright. Her face lights
up in a smile that’s bigger and wider than all the countries of the
earth. Her legs pump as she runs toward me and as I kneel down, and
then they wrap around my waist as she slams into me.

I spin her around and around and around as
she peppers my face with kisses and says, “I knew it. I knew you’d
come back.”

The Earth Dwellers
by David Estes,
coming September 5th, 2013!