Terres (Old)

Chapter Thirty Nine

Wren could not bring herself to cry. She watched Rannok as he stared off into nothing, then eventually fell asleep. She could barely contain the rage that boiled below her skin and made her want to choke him in his sleep. He'd lied his sticky, awful lies to her with a straight face. Maybe if he hadn't she would have had a chance to see her mother one last time. To tell her she was sorry for thinking such awful things about her.

She remembered all the mornings when she'd wake up and crawl out of bed, and her mother would already have breakfast ready. She'd put on her clothes and they'd go to the water pump and Wren would feel so big and special carrying her little bucket back. How her mother did her hair or let her pick one new toy from the toy shop when she'd been especially good.

She remembered how her mother rubbed her back and held her as she cried after Cain had died. How she'd whispered that it wasn't Wren's fault, she didn't mean it, of course she would never hurt anyone on purpose. How angry her mother had been and how she'd pushed it aside and comforted Wren anyway. Wren would have given anything to have even a little slice of her back. To have been able to say goodbye.

But it was too late now. Five years and nothing had changed. Rannok was still Rannok and this time she wouldn't let herself forget that, not even for a moment in the midst of such chaos. She stood up carefully and climbed over the back of the wagon seat, then curled upon it next to Elyn. His company still wasn't what she wanted, but it was better than nothing.

The camel plodded ahead of them silently as they traveled. The sun began to set and its fire leaked out across the clouds, streaking them with red. It made her feel calm and like maybe she wasn't so alone. A spot next to her heart ached for the family she knew she'd never see again. They were a small family, and not always right. But good. And she would never have that goodness again. 

"How far do you think we have to travel?" she asked Elyn as a gust of wind kicked up. Wren shivered. She wished she had her night cloak with her. Or her mother's purse or her bangles or one of her hair clips, but Rannok had denied her all of them. 

"A week," he said, and his eyes didn't move from the horizon. He probably hurt the same way she did. Ached for his mother, too, and for some reminder of his old life. They'd come from so many places and yet the caravan always eventually got to feel like home. Now she didn't know where home was.

"Where did you come from before?" she asked. She had to suppress an internal cringe. It wasn't something you asked people from the caravan. Elyn stiffened for a moment and didn't look at her and she wished she hadn't asked after all.

"We lived in Opaline and there were some riots. My dad died and afterwards we moved to the caravan," he said. Wren's shoulders relaxed and she tried not to sigh too loudly. "It wasn't like the caravan," he continued. "Nobody had to get married unless they wanted to and there weren't so many rules. I wish we still lived there."

"My village had the same rules," Wren said. Sometimes if she squinted just right she could almost see it. The tiny houses thatched with dried twigs and mud. The fires that always burned in the salt drying rooms even during the hottest part of the day as men toiled over them. The catchers they constructed out of clay to condense dry air into water overnight, like magic. 

"Do you think Agatine will be like Opaline?" she asked.

"I don't know," he responded. He flicked the reins and the camel picked up pace a little bit. "We should stop soon. We can see if there's food and a tent in the back."

Wren nodded. She wanted to cry out for her pile of blankets and a warm bowl of her mother's disgusting stew. She would do anything to get a taste of it again. She remembered her father reading his ledger while they ate and felt sad and angry at the same time. She wondered whether he would have abandoned her still if he knew that her mother was about to die.