Footprints In The Snow

V. Favoritism

:|| Posted above: This is what I imagine Zeke to look like, with maybe a little more muscle. so, um, yeah . . . ||:

I trudge through the village, keeping my eyes trained on the ground until I reach my house. I pull open the door and step inside, shocked to see a couple of people standing in our common room.

I recognize the people standing in front of me as Kaia and a muscular brown-haired boy. They both have grim expressions, though Kaia's eyes glow as I walk in the door.

"Zara!" She rushes over to me, pulling me into a brief but tight hug. "Where have you been?"

I stare at her. "Uh . . . ."

"Never mind, that's not important." She turns around and makes eye contact with the boy. They seem to have a silent conversation.

"Why are you guys here?" I ask, walking over to our microscopic kitchen. "And who are you?" I ask the brown-haired boy, stuffing a stale biscuit into my mouth.

"I'm Charlie, one of Zeke's friends." His brown eyes flicker to the closed door over his shoulder.

Zeke's bedroom.

"Zeke was shot," Kaia says, noticing my stare.

My eyes widen and I drop the biscuit in my hand. "What?!"

"He went out looking for you in the forest, and a pair of nearby hunters heard his scream, and they found an arrow in his stomach. Your mother and the medic is in there with him. We're not allowed in." Kaia clenches her hands into fists, releasing them in a stressed exhale.

I rush to the door, pulling it open.

Zeke is laying on his bed, his torso bare. Sweat drips down his face as he releases small groans. A doctor is hovering over his med section, blocking the wound from my sight. He holds a pair of tweezers in his fingers.

"Just a couple more pieces," the doctor says.

Mom is standing by Zeke's head, her hands cupped over her mouth as she watches the doctor's procedure.

The door shuts behind me and I move to stand by Mom, who acknowledges my presence with a glance in my direction.

From this angle, I get a full view of Zeke's wound. The sight makes me nauseous.

Blood drips down onto the sheets of the bed, where the pieces of a broken arrow lay. The doctor drops a splinter onto the pile of wood.

"Just a couple more, Ezekiel," the doctor repeats.

"Zeke, what happened?" I ask, taking his hand in mine.

The look on my brother's face as he looks at me makes me want to break down and cry. He looks so pained, and I can't blame him. I'd probably act the same way if I was shot by an arrow and the doctor had to pull wood out of my skin.

"I was . . . looking . . . for you . . . and then . . . some idiot . . . shot me . . . with a freaking . . . crossbow . . . and . . . I only got a glimpse of them . . . before I . . . passed out . . . ." Zeke says in between gasps and grunts.

Crossbow . . . arrows . . . the mystery man.

"What did he look like?" I ask. "From what you saw."

Mom pulls me away from Zeke. "You're draining his energy by making him talk so much. Go make some coffee or something. He needs to rest."

"He's still getting surgery!" I point out. "And you're here, and you don't seem like you have any intentions of leaving."

"I want to be with him during the procedure. I think it's comforting to have a parent at your side when things like this happen, not a nuisance of a sister."

My heart stings at her words. I open my mouth to say something, then decide against it. I walk back into the common room as calmly as I can manage, closing Zeke's door behind me.

"How is he?" Charlie asks, at the same time that Kaia demands, "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," I say, walking over to the kitchen and pulling out three mugs.

Kaia looks at me, concerned. "You aren't."

As I tip the coffee pot over the mugs, watching the dark liquid fill the cups, I bite the inside of my cheek. "You're right. I'm not."

"What's wrong?" Kaia asks, taking the coffee pot from my hands and setting it beside her.

"Mom is still mad at me for something I didn't even do!" I snatch the pot from the counter and finish pouring the coffee into the cups. "I just can't . . . . Ugh!" I splash coffee onto my legs, and the hot liquid seeps through my pants, burning my skin.

"Zara, just calm down!" Kaia says, taking back the pot and putting it in our small sink. "Take a breather, okay?" She tucks a piece of stray hair behind my ear.

I let Kaia guide me into the common room and sit me down on our two-person couch. I bury my head in my hands, tugging at my hair with my fingers.

Kaia sits down next to me. I feel her hand on my shoulder.

Charlie sits in the chair across from me, his brown eyes fixed on me.

"What can we do to make you feel better?" Kaia asks.

"Let me go into the woods," I mutter. "I want to feel free again."

"I stay in the village all the time and I don't feel like I'm in a cage," Kaia points out. "So does Charlie. He's actually applying for a job at our bakery, since my mom is starting a clothing shop. She's giving me the booth, Zara! Isn't that exciting?"

"Yeah, that's great, Kaia." I actually mean it, but it doesn't really come out that way. "I really am excited for you. That's just the kind of happy news I was looking for. So Kaia, you're going to be selling the goods, and Charlie is going to be . . . ?"

"I'm going to bake," Charlie says, as if it's obvious. "My mom used to bake all the time. I know how to bake a lot of things."

Used to bake . . .

What happened to his mom?

Then I remember.

She got very sick last year, and passed away just a few months ago. Something called the Mountain Plague, because we didn't know what else to call it.

The Plague eats away at your cerebrum--the part of your brain that is in charge of making decisions. The worst cases of the Plague have caused people to go on murderous rampages and burn houses and things, and we still haven't come up with an antidote.

The case of the Plague that Charlie's mom had was one of the less severe one. It slowly made her senses go away: first her hearing faded, then her speech, touch, and she lost the ability to function correctly, so she was unable to eat and use the restroom. And one thing led to another, and Charlie's family decided it was time to just . . .

"Zara?"

I snap out of my thoughts.

Kaia and Charlie are looking at me, as if waiting for me to answer a question or something.

"What?" I look back and forth between them.

"Someone's at the door," Kaia says, looking at the front door.

Charlie stands, running his fingers through his brown hair. "I'll get it."

He walks over to the front door and pulls it open, revealing a tall, skinny, blonde-haired boy.

"Who are you?" Jack demands.

"I'm one of Zeke's friends," Charlie says, unfazed by the venom in Jack's voice. "I assume you're here to see Zara?"

Jack glares at Charlie, and his green gaze drifts over the boy's shoulder and meets my eyes. He pushes past Charlie. "I don't need a baker's permission to enter a house that's not even his."