Chapter 8

Birds chirped merrily overhead, and I had a hard time prying my eyes open. Which was strange. Sleep didn’t normally cling this tightly to me. My mind drifted. Thoughts of Siena and her epic bouts of deep sleep came to mind, and I smiled as I recalled the first time I had heard about the new visitor to Foresthome. I was eight or nine at the time. Bren had shooed everyone out when the young Iceling had woken up and freaked out. I’d stayed outside the doorway with some of my friends, straining to hear the conversation inside. When Bren finally came out, she’d said, “I thought I told you lot to get out.” “We are out,” I remember saying, planting my hands on my hips. My friends had stared at me, and I imagined them admiring my bravery. Sometimes I missed being a kid. “We should head out. It’s getting late.” A raspy voice pulled me back to the present. “We don’t have to carry her again, do we?” Who was that? And were they talking about me? I renewed my efforts to wake up. Why was I so darn groggy? I groaned as I rubbed my eyes. My head felt like that time I’d sneaked a jug of ale—just to try it—and ended up finishing the whole thing. Actually, no, my head felt like the morning after I’d drunk the ale. Throbbing and full of mud. “Corin,” the unfamiliar voice called. “She’s awake.” Finally, finally, my eyes opened. I found myself on a bedroll, under a warm blanket. “Well, hello there,” a new voice said. I focused on the blurry face in front of me. Blinked. Rubbed my eyes again. Was the man’s face covered in . . . hair? “You must be Nirrin,” he said, his voice warm with welcome. “Um.” I stared. A quick glance around assured me I was still in the forest, but in a makeshift camp of some kind. And there was nothing wrong with my eyes. The man crouching in front of me really was covered in brown hair. Like a wolf? No, longer than wolf fur. Maybe like the hair on a squirrel’s tail? Or maybe— “Please forgive my appearance,” the man said, a regretful look in his eyes. “We keep to ourselves, and sometimes I forget.” My wits slammed back into place, and I pushed myself to a sitting position. I recalled Fen saying something about no one in his group looking normal. Had we found them, then? When had that happened? Last I remembered, I had settled for a quick nap against a tree. At night. Now it was broad daylight. I returned my attention back to the hairy man. “Um, where am I? And where’s Fen?” “Fen?” “I mean, Fenrook. The guy I was with.” There was no sign of him at the camp, and it wasn’t like he was easy to miss. The hairy man tilted his head, reminding me of the way Fen did when he was studying me. Despite all the hair. “He’s scouting ahead.” “Oh.” My mouth twisted with irritation. Not only did I mysteriously wind up with this group of strangers in the middle of who-knows-where, but Fen was conveniently unavailable to make introductions. Or explanations. Or anything at all. Fine. I didn’t need him anyway. I pushed my irritation aside. I had yet to encounter an awkward situation that I couldn’t talk my way through. “So, you already know I’m Nirrin. What’s your name?” His perfectly normal teeth contrasted against the brown waves on his face when he smiled. “Corin. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Finally meet me? “You’ve heard of me?” His smile faltered, and he turned away to rummage in a nearby pack. “You must be hungry.” “Don’t tell me you’re going to feed her.” That first raspy voice I’d heard crackled with aggravation. “We should tie her up, just to be safe.” I looked over Corin’s shoulder and found another man standing there, arms crossed, a scowl on his whiskered face. Wait, whiskers? Like a wildcat? His nose and mouth protruded into a small snout. The scowl was unmistakable though, and revealed a set of fangs that I wouldn’t want anywhere near my neck. “That’s right, stare at the freak,” he spat. Fen had pretty much said the same thing when we first started talking. It was a terrible motto, if you asked me. My irritation came back in full force. “Just so you know, you’re staring at me just as hard. I just met you people, so cut me some slack.” I pointed at him. “Did you hear that? I called you a person. So save your poor-me-I’m-a-freak rat piss for someone else.” Corin erupted in laughter, causing his hair to sway. It was hard to tell how old he was—even the backs of his hands were covered in hair—but the wrinkles around his eyes gave me the sense he was middle-aged. “I never thought I’d see the day we found someone feistier than you, Minocken.” The whiskered man curled a lip at me—further revealing a long, pointy tooth—and stalked away. “You’ll have to forgive him,” Corin said as he watched the other man yank a tie around one pack. “His experiences with Normals have been . . . tough.” “Normals?” I’d never heard this term before. He looked back at me, his brown eyes taking in my hair, my ears, my chin. He lifted a hand as if to touch my hair, then seemed to think better of it and dropped it back into his lap. “Normals. People like you.” “Being normal is boring,” I admitted. “Then boring is a lucky thing.” His grave tone matched the sadness in his eyes, and I began to wonder what atrocities these people had gone through, simply because they looked different. “How is it you’re not afraid?” “Should I be?” I looked from him, to the surly Minocken, and back again. “Wait, how did I get here, anyway?” “Fenrook carried you.” “Why don’t I remember that?” “You were asleep.” “Right . . .” I leaned forward to watch his eyes since it was hard to see his facial reactions. “Asleep. Not comatose. What happened to me?” His nervous eyes darted away. “You should drink some water. It will help with the dizziness.” He stood and retrieved a bowl of water from a nearby bucket. Why wouldn’t he answer my question? And how did he know I was dizzy? Something wasn’t right here. “Where did you say Fen was again?” “He scouts ahead to make sure our path is safe.” “Our path to where? Where are we going? How many of you are there?” I couldn’t stop the questions from bubbling out. I had come here to get answers, but I only found more questions. “Why won’t you tell me anything?” “Here.” He pressed the bowl of water into my hands. “You’ll feel better if you drink something.” “Something,” I repeated. “So you can knock me out again?” I sniffed the clear liquid in the bowl, but couldn’t detect anything unusual. But it wasn’t like I drank anything before my nap anyway. “It’s just water.” Corin took the bowl, drank its contents, and refilled it. “Please. Drink.” I took it and drank, thoughts swirling with unanswered questions. “That’s my girl.” I looked at him curiously. His warm tone had returned. Sounded almost fatherly. Before I could think more about it, I heard the rustle of bushes and the crack of twigs underfoot. I turned my head toward the noise, hoping to see Fen returning. It wasn’t him. Not even close. Green. The woman was green. She emerged into the clearing clutching a sack. She wore deer hide trousers with a long-sleeved, loose-fitting shirt the same color as my dress. But her skin was as pale green as a newly unfurled leaf. Corin grinned when he saw her, his teeth parting the hair on his face. He headed over to greet her. They embraced and began speaking in hushed tones. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but her dark eyes intermittently fell on me, so it was obvious who they were talking about. Not wanting to be left out of the conversation, I set the water bowl aside and tried to stand. A dizzy spell hit me when I leaned forward, and I sat back down again. Maybe more water was a good idea. I reclaimed the bowl and sipped at it, waiting. When they finally approached me, the green woman spoke first. “Nirrin.” It was one word. One. Word. And yet it sounded so familiar. Like I already knew her voice. Which was ridiculous, because I think I’d remember a green-skinned woman if I’d ever met one. Her eyes were brown and soft as they gazed at me. “I don’t suppose you remember me?” I studied her face carefully, taking in her dusky eyebrows, her perfectly proportioned nose, the delicate curve of her ears. Once you got past all the green skin, she was actually quite pretty. She sat in front of me, so her eyes were level with mine. “I can’t believe you’re a grown woman now.” She reached out a hand, just like Corin had, only she didn’t let it fall away. I instinctively backed away from her hand, and a hurt expression crossed her face. “Look,” I said, not wanting to hurt her feelings, whoever she was, “it’s not because you’re . . . green. I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name.” She pulled her hand back and looked up at Corin with an expression that might have said, Are you sure? “It’s her,” he affirmed. “I know it is. I could never forget that scent.” I had a scent? Did I need a bath? My confused brain couldn’t seem to make more sense than that. He knelt next to the green woman and took my hand. “Nirrin, I can’t believe you found us.” He brought my hand to his nose and inhaled. “It really is you.” I reclaimed my hand and scooted back a little. “Look, I don’t know either of you. I don’t know who you think I am, but you’re starting to freak me out.” He gave me a patient smile. “Forgive me. I forget that you would have no memory of us.” He took the hand of the green woman. “This is Niralessa.”