Sember (Forestfolk, Book 2)

Chapter 1a

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When a girl can make a pair of pants burst into flames with her bare hands, people tend to be afraid of her. Or in this case, me. Only my brother, Goben—who is fireproof—ever dared to argue with me. Everyone else? Well . . .

"Oh! I'm sorry," said a woman I didn't know very well. I had just entered the commons for breakfast when we'd both reached for the same tray. "I didn't mean to get in your way."

"It's fine." I offered her the wooden tray. "Go ahead."

She took a step back. "Actually, I just remembered something. I'll eat later. You have a good meal." She scurried away before I could say anything else.

With a small sigh, I began piling my tray with berries, corn cakes, and dried meat.

Foresthome was a collection of rough-hewn cabins and shacks. Originally a refugee camp for displaced Plainsmen and persecuted Gifted, it had grown into a community of people who all helped each other. Hunting, weaving cloth, carving spoons, whatever their abilities, everyone chipped in. It was pretty great, even if most of them were scared to talk to me.

I sat alone at a table, not giving the polite but skittish woman any more thought. Those who knew me liked me, and I had decided long ago that anyone who didn't just didn't know me well enough.

Chewing absently, I brought a hand up and concentrated on gradually directing my heat there until it glowed faintly, attempting to maintain the same intensity without fluctuating. Warm, almost hot, but not scalding. It took me months to perfect this seemingly simple task. Destruction was so much easier.

"Sember, there you are!"

I snuffed the glow from my hand at the sound of Nirrin's voice. She was two years older than my sixteen years, same as Goben, and talked to me all the time. I wasn't sure if it was because not many could tolerate her incessant prattle, or if she felt sorry for me since I had few friends.

"Did you hear about Wender getting sick?" She plopped down next to me.

"Wender? But I was just with him yesterday to help him collect honey." Smoke made bees sleepy, so I wasn't without my uses. "That's the fourth one to get sick this week, right?"

"Yes! It's so nasty! I don't think I could stand being covered in rashes and coughing up blood." She shivered with disgust.

"It seems really bad. And contagious. You didn't go near him, did you?" I was getting ready to scoot away from her if she had. "I know how much you like honey."

"No way! They finally set up a quarantine cabin so it'll be easier to avoid them." Nirrin stole a berry from my tray and popped it into her mouth. "They're using Siena's old cabin. Remember when we were kids and we used to sneak in there to talk to her?"

"You used to sneak in there against Bren's orders. I understood the concept of privacy."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Siena never complained."

"Siena never complains about anything," I pointed out. "Unlike some people."

"I am not a complainer!" Nirrin flipped her long hair over one shoulder. "I just state my opinions, that's all."

Did she ever. I decided to change the subject. "When do you think Siena's coming back from visiting the tribes?"

She shrugged. "It's been a week, right? But she probably loses track of time when she gets to spend it trekking around with Remi. Am I right?" She waggled her eyebrows and nudged me with an elbow.

I sighed and shook my head, but smiled anyway. I was glad Siena was happy now. The first day I ever saw her, ten years ago, is still crystal clear in my memory. It was at a community meeting. The entire population of Foresthome had been talking about the young Iceling who had been rescued in the forest and brought in. I remember thinking she was sort of small and skinny for her fifteen years as she marched to the center of the meeting circle, but I was entranced by her pale blue eyes and hair the color of the yellow plains in summer. I was jealous, really. My hair was thin, messy, and flaming red.

"I hope she gets back soon," I said. I thought about how far Siena had come since those early days, when she was lost and afraid of everyone. Now she was the resident healer, sharing her gift with everyone, including the Plainsmen tribes who used to persecute the Gifted. Her level of kindness went beyond my understanding. I would have told those stupid Plainsmen to go suck a toad. "We need her. This sickness seems to be spreading fast."

"Yeah, seems like it. Hey, what's Goben doing today?"

I glanced at her, wondering what she felt for my brother, if anything. As much as she liked to talk, she rarely shared anything private. "He's going hunting, since Remi's gone." Remi, our best hunter, was the one who found Siena all those years ago. And now they were inseparable, living together and doing practically everything together.

"Those two are so adorable! I wish I had someone like that." She sighed dramatically and stroked her lustrous brown hair.

"You will." It was a platitude, but I didn't know what else to say.

After breakfast, I brushed the crumbs off my deer hide pants, waved goodbye to Nirrin, and jogged down the lake trail. Two women holding gathering baskets stopped chatting with each other when they saw me and practically jumped off the path. The Forestfolk were too polite to ever say anything directly to me, but really, they didn't need to.

I may have imagined it, but they seemed to hold their collective breath as I passed, as if bracing for some kind of impact. I continued jogging, trying to shrug it off. They just didn't know me, I reminded myself. My fiery gift could be intimidating.

The days had been growing shorter and cooler, and the brisk air felt good in my lungs. Siena taught me that my pent-up energy sometimes made me irritable, and if I didn't master my emotions, my gift—my curse, really—could very well cause another explosion.

Yes, another one. Everyone learned to sidestep me the day after the explosion. The one I caused when I was six and wanted to go diving with Dilla in the lake. She was the Gifted who could breathe underwater and sometimes brought back treasures like colorful gems and monstrous clams. I wanted to find my own treasures, and had a tantrum when my parents said no.

It wasn't just the no. It was, "No, you're too little. No, you can't breathe underwater. No, you won't get far." They were telling me I wasn't good enough when I knew, deep in my six-year-old heart, that I was. And so my blood boiled, my hands clenched, and fury bubbled up from my very core.

BOOM!

The impact knocked out my parents, sent Goben flying out the door, and lit the entire cabin on fire. I remember thinking I was all alone, my parents were dying, and it was all my fault. I remember stumbling out of the burning cabin, crying, wondering where my fearlessness had gone. If it weren't for Goben and Siena, my parents would be dead. Goben and Siena, who were still children themselves, had braved the inferno and pulled my parents out. I, on the other hand, had been a blubbering idiot. Proof that I couldn't be trusted.

That was ten years ago. I've had other explosions since then, but none of them are etched so deeply into my psyche as that fateful day. Sometimes, on really bad days, I still feel like a blubbering idiot. But those days are farther apart now, thanks to Siena's patient, guiding hand.

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