Elemental Hunger

Chapter Thirty-One

Morning dawned frigid and fast. Felix secured the cancellers around my wrists, letting my arms hang in front of my body. Without my Element, I felt every whisper of wind—and they were more like wails.

He bustled around, packing his bag and preparing breakfast—if another hunk of cheese could be called a meal. It could, and I ate it all.

We trudged through the muck close to the trees until they petered out. Nothing existed except snow and sky, with a lone ribbon of road trailing into the horizon.

Holy blazes, it was cold. Though my Element was only several months old, it felt like a crucial part of me. I craved the fire inside the same way my body craved food and water. Without it, I felt like I'd lost part of my soul.

We walked. And walked. And walked. Thoughts of my friends were fleeting and frail. The drudgery of taking one more step, inhaling one more time, surviving one more minute, didn't allow space for thinking. By nightfall, I moved with my eyes closed.

"Finally," Felix muttered, his voice heavy with relief.

I jerked my eyes open and saw the most beautiful sight: Candlelight. The yellow glow shone through a few lonely windows of the village we approached. I balked at entering Cornish—they were involved in Davison's rebellion. Surely they wouldn't take kindly to Felix, a Tarpulin sentry. A spark of terror ignited inside, but I had no fire to respond.

No matter what, candlelight meant life. It meant I wouldn't be sleeping on the hard ground. It meant I might find a way to escape from Felix.

That hope fled when he ordered me to stop. He released the cancellers, tucking them in his backpack before rewrapping my wrists with strips of grimy cloth.

As soon as he finished, I yanked away from his touch and pulled down my sleeves. He glared, but it didn't hold its usual hatred. Lines of exhaustion crowded around his eyes. Maybe I could—

"Try anything funny, and you die. Cornish is on high alert." He tossed me a cloak. "Put this on to cover those robes. We'll be going around to a house on the south side of the village. Not a word to anyone. Got it?" His voice carried enough venom to chase away the momentary thought of escape. A flash of silver peeked from the backpack. Felix stroked the firearm almost lovingly.

I managed to nod without looking in his eyes. I pulled the cloak over my Council robes, relishing the new warmth. I caught glimpses of dark streets illuminated by pockets of light. I saw bodies darting through the streets with their heads lowered. Occasionally, I saw a guard standing still, looking toward the wilderness. I didn't want them to see us, but at the same time, I wished they would.

Felix hurried me around the village. From a safe distance, we passed glowing homes with smoke curling from chimneys, but just as many sitting cold and dark. Felix clucked to himself as we continued walking. He paused and looked behind him, then quickened his step. A few minutes later, he stopped near a run-down shack that might have been painted yellow in the far-distant past.

"This is it," he whispered. "We have to go in the front. Nothing funny now."

Around the front of the house, shutters hung by one hinge. The missing door left a gaping black hole in the wall. The glass had long since broken, now lying in shards on the porch. It crunched in unison with the groaning wood under Felix's heavy sentry boots. I climbed the steps uncertainly. The rotting wood didn't look like it could hold my weight in combination with Felix's.

Something in his pocket beeped. He pulled out a black box and spoke into it. "Felix, in. Status?"

A tinny voice came through the device. It sounded like Adam, but the dark doorway swallowed the words as Felix entered the house. When I stepped on the porch, it squeaked in protest.