A Forest So Dark and Deadly

Chapter 2

Curfew in the morning?

"I told you, they want everyone home," Wes chides in a low voice.

I nod as I get to my feet and dust at my pants, "Let's get going then," I murmur as I walk past him.

He shrinks away ever so slightly but I ignore him as there's a sudden, burning pain that has started on my elbow. I don't acknowledge it, knowing that if I did and he happened to see the gaping sore he'd go ballistic.

And that's not something you need to deal with right now.

We walk in silence as the trees rustle above us, Wes trailing maybe a dozen paces behind me with Zira leading the way as the siren grows louder before it fades. I've heard the siren hundreds of times before yet it never ceases to make me uneasy. The trees surrounding us shrink in height, as they're younger and will likely be cut down soon as the woods falls away and the ground becomes red dirt beneath our feet.

I step lightly onto the road that will take us home, one way leading to Fawald while the other snakes off into the trees heading towards Grissom. A wrought iron fence greets us first as we trudge up the cracked, blacktop road where iron dust coats the ground in a dark powder while iron spikes top the fence. A few, low ranked officers patrol the outside perimeter as they stop to watch us approach.

"Curfew has been announced, please return home," one of them calls to us as we approach the fence-line.

I recognize them as Sorcha, a girl I had gone to school with. The friendship we once shared is long gone though, as she immediately shrinks away from me when she realizes who I am and looks away.

"We are," I mutter as we slip past her, the gate already rolling open.

Wes sets a brisk pace once we've made it through and I let him go, his body disappearing among the crowd of milling people who are heading home. It's not like it matters, he can't deny that he's a Castillo no matter how hard he tries, he'll always have the greenish-gold eyes that set us apart from most anyone in Fawald.

No one else has green eyes.

I'd like to think that it's because it's rare, but in reality, the hostility we receive at times because of it makes me think it's not the case.

You know what color the Fae's eyes are? Green.

I can't count the times the fact has been spat in my face.

The only thing that comforts me is the fact that Zira pads along next to me, her ears up, unaffected and always on guard. A transport vehicle glides past, a faint beeping sound being emitted from it to warn people out of its way as the glossy, black exterior gleams in the early morning light.

I don't make eye contact with the person who is perched in the passenger's seat, their dusty green armor marking their position as a Quaker as they drive by. The cobblestone path under my feet is slick from what I can guess is a recent rain, puddles of water gleaming silver from the lights mounted overhead as one by one, they go out as the sunlight strengthens.

I can already smell food being cooked as some of the stores lining the road open their iron shuttered fronts to the public. I keep my head low, as I really shouldn't be walking in such a crowded area of town but I have no choice.

Only when we get to our house at the end of the block do I let myself relax as I drop my bag by the door. I feel the weight of the forest drop with it if only for a moment before I compose myself as Wes steps past me.

Zira jumps up at me excitedly when I take her heavy collar off, making sure to give her a good scratching around her throat as she thumps her tail against my leg.

"Rowan," Wes calls impatiently.

I hesitantly walk into the small living room where a sagging couch sits in front of the dusty TV that we never turn on. Even now Wes runs a ragged cloth across the screen before he takes a step back as the TV flickers on.