Cloud Piercer

Two

I forgot the loaves of bread.

The thought occurs to me just as I reach the fields on the outskirts of Veymaw. The sun has begun its descent, bathing the miles of crops in a warm pink hue. I consider going back, but I don't particularly like the thought of running into Jakob or Raven again.

Though unintentional, conversations of the upcoming Red Moon feel like a nasty taunt. It's less than a month away and I'm no closer to finding the deserters than when I started looking six months ago.

I scan the rows of crops for Casimir. Most workers seem to have gone home for the evening. But ever since he finished school a couple of years ago, Casimir worked hard, impressing his boss, Jyro, so much that he moved up the ranks quickly.

Finally, I spot him halfway down a row. He wears a long-sleeved buttoned shirt, once white, now an aged beige. His weed whacker swings in the air as he hacks at a thick vine twisting around a tomato plant.

I sidle up to him, nudging him with my elbow. "Hey."

He glances at me sideways before hacking at the weeds again, muscles rippling beneath his shirt. "You know you're not allowed in the fields, Frey."

"I don't see Jyro anywhere around. Besides, aren't you done yet?"

He stands, rising to his full height—a few inches above me. Sweat soaks his shirt, darkens his golden hair. "You weren't at home when I left this morning."

"Couldn't sleep, I went for a walk."

"At night?" His thick eyebrows are turned down in disapproval, honey eyes searching my face. It's a disapproving look I know all too well. "Frey."

"I had a bad dream about Samu."

His gaze softens. I hate lying to him, especially about this, but it's the only thing I can say that will keep him from pressing the issue. "Come on," he says, tossing the weed whacker. "Let's go home. I'll make soup."

"Yeah, about that, I forgot the loaves."

"I knew you would. I picked a few up this morning." He throws an arm over my shoulder and knuckles my head.

"Ugh." I shove him away with a scowl. "You stink."

We walk back towards the village together, Casimir lecturing me about being late to class when I complain about Professor Fin. He's always been this way, right from when we were children. I first met him when my father adopted my little brother from the orphanage. I was only eight, but Casimir was ten, hanging off the gate as he watched us wander in. With his golden hair and honey eyes, I remember thinking he was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen.

"You have to take your shoes off," he'd said when we stepped inside. My father offered him a smile that Casimir didn't return, following us all the way down to Lady Trunes', the orphanage directors', office. He'd waited outside with me, scowling when I started to pick at the fraying rug.

We got my little brother and left, but I walked past the orphanage each day on my way home from school hoping to catch a glimpse of him. My little crush was the reason for the formation of our friendship—I wouldn't leave him alone. And even now, ten years later, when everything in my life has changed, he's still there, ready to scowl at my bad decisions. If he found out where I've been going at night, he'd never let me out of his sight again.

It's dark by the time we reach his cabin, and Casimir starts on the soup right away. The cabin isn't big—two rooms with a bathroom and a connected kitchen at the front door—but after what happened at the Red Moon last year, my father's cabin was handed over to the council and I was left with nothing. I didn't want it anyway. The dents in the floor, the dark stains on the door frames—they were all vivid reminders of what happened that night as I hid in the cupboard, watching through the crack in the wood.