Elemental Hunger

Chapter Five

I melted a handful of snow to clean my face. The memory of Patches's blood coating his white hair filled my mind. Remembering his words, I pulled up my hood to hide my incriminating hair and glanced behind me. Still no sentry. Now only the sickness knotting my stomach remained. Sure, I had the power to defend myself, but I'd never used it like that before. I'd thought about it—dreamed about it even—but never done it. And Patches was never the person on the receiving end.

I ran away from the alarm. I kept my eye on the sun and steered my course toward the southwest, no final destination in mind. Gradually, the high-rises became single-story homes with spots of yellow grass showing through the snow.

After a couple of hours, maybe more, I turned toward a house and scampered to the back door.

Drifting snow blocked the entryway, matting down organic debris and creating a sloppy, muddy mess. Upturned furniture littered the space, and all the cupboards had been thrown open. The air smelled of rotting leaves and wet wood.

A stove—I'd seen pictures in my classes—sat in one corner. This had to be a kitchen, but it wasn't big enough. At school, we cooked for hundreds. I didn't miss my work there, not a little bit. I'd just never considered that my future held a life somewhere else.

I searched the cupboards and came away with nothing. I explored the other rooms, finding a rusted toilet, bare mattresses, and what I thought was a television. Nothing happened when I pushed the buttons.

Even though the sun shone, the house felt cold and disturbingly empty. It reminded me of the communes, of myself.

I'd been born in the communes—like all children in Crylon—and moved to the school when I turned three. I'd returned to the communes only once—to see if I wanted to become a Communal Mother. My tour guide led me down a narrow path with tents on either side.

"Elemental men come to visit the Communal Mothers," she said, a smile painted in place.

I heard the words that went unsaid. Men visited the communes with one goal: To produce more Elementals.

In front of us, a man with flushed cheeks and wearing a flowing emerald robe stepped out of a tent. A moment later, a beautiful girl, not much older than me, followed. "Sir. You forgot your gloves."

She didn't even know his name. He didn't smile or thank her. He simply took his gloves and marched away. And she held her hands over her stomach like he'd just done her a huge favor.

I made my decision right then, though I finished my visit to the Communes. But the life of child-bearing, cooking, cleaning, and farming repulsed me. I'd rather die first, but I couldn't blame the Unmanifested girls who chose Communal Motherhood over menial labor at the school or Councilman's fortress. Death at a young age was hard to look straight in the face.

Life wasn't much better for Unmanifested boys. If they couldn't hack it in the brutal sentry courses, they lived in agricultural communities, separate from the Communal Mothers.

Since I'd vetoed the communes, my remaining choices became Educator or servant. But I didn't choose. I drifted, somehow hoping something else would happen.

Like getting selected for a Council.

That prospect dominated my thoughts—until I Manifested my Element.

I worried my life would end if my firemaking ability was revealed, and I felt I'd die if it wasn't. I didn't want to personally experience the same fate as that female Firemaker who was executed, but living without being a Firemaker felt too caging, too unfair. See, Unmanifested girls were only good for repopulating the world or serving Elementals.