Before the Sky Fell

[ 14 ] Mimicry

-14-

Mimicry

After crossing five alleyways, venturing through the farmers' fields and into the northern forest, Whik skidded to a halt. Charlotte grabbed his arm tighter and almost whipped the tears from his cheeks.

"No," Whik told her. "I need to see it." I need to see it fall.

He peered out from the tree line that stood north of Tannuchi's gates. Sparks rose in front of him as the inferno swept through Tannuchi. A cluster of survivors gathered behind him to witness the last moments of Tannuchi's existence, Jasper among them.

"Whik, we have to keep moving," Charlotte said. "They'll be on our trail in no time."

Whik ignored her. It's all gone. Again. He stared out into the darkness and flames in their fury. The ash rose in plumes to dangerous heights and then fell again with the changing wind. Though the noise should have been drowned out from screams and crackling flames, Whik could have sworn he heard the snap of the Talking Tree as it descended through the air, and with it his hope of ever finding a permanent home.

Among the identical ashes that cascaded through the air, almost reaching the collection of survivors huddled near the forest, fell a small white flower whose leaves wore the charring brand of fire. The minuscule embers ate away at the petals and reminded Whik of the phoenixes from old wives' tales. A flowered phoenix, with flaming wings and white eyes.

Where was Carter? The falcon would often disappear for days. Whik had trained him to carry parchments from his cabin to Tannuchi and drop the note to Jeral. Charlotte would laugh while rocking back and forth on the porch chair, insisting Whik was the laziest lad on the island. When Carter was able to accomplish that, Whik moved on to harder places. He sent Carter to the riverlands where the town of Ashburn sat, then the mountains near the Tidesdale pass, where Frankford would hunt for rare flowers that could cure all sorts of ailments. Finally, he trained Carter to fly all the way to Eckrondale, the northernmost city, where Geoffrey Marg served as Steward. Does Marg know the Larks are here? Does he know we've lost our home, again?

"Whik," Charlotte said as she tugged at his sleeve. "We have to go. Now." She was right. The fact that the Larks were mounted only made it worse, so he and the other survivors trekked onward through the dense forest. They had no torches to light their way. They would have put them out even if they had them. There would be Larks on horses following them, ready to charge at anything that moved through the trees.

Some of the survivors stumbled over twigs and logs, still drunk from the feast. The moon cast a pale glow on the forest. Things moved in the darkness, rodents perhaps, but Whik's eyes turned them into monsters hiding behind tree trunks.

Whik shook his head. "There was no warning. The bells. Halloh didn't sound the bells."

Charlotte picked up her dress and stepped over the branches. "Who knows what happened? Maybe he dozed off."

He didn't doze off. Halloh Baker took that duty more seriously than anyone. And what about Torra Grimley? Had he fallen out of the dinghy at the sight of the Lark fleet? Maybe they shot arrows through the sky and pierced him before he could light the fire buoys. Whik shuddered at the thought of another deceased Grimley brother.

"We have to be ready to kill," Charlotte told him.

Whik looked around him to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. He knew she would bring it up. It's in the past."I told you that I'd never end someone else's life as long as I live. And you'll never have to cover it up again."

"The Larks are not Tully. His death was an accident. It was years ago. At some point you have to forgive yourself."

Whik knew he could never forgive himself. He sensed Charlotte had trouble with it too. Charlotte had known at the time that he was being bullied by the Grimleys, but she had done little and Whik resented her for that. If she would have reached the riverbank moments earlier, she may have been able to prevent it. Whik couldn't get the sounds of Tully's last breaths out of his head, how the boy's eyes rolled to the back of his sockets, how his fingers grasped onto Whik's tunic, the sight of Charlotte rolling the boy's body into the river. Charlotte didn't look at him with shock, or contempt, only grim acceptance.