Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“Impressive, right?” Jaxon smiles widely and nods down at my feet as if to congratulate the shoes on their performance so far.
His dark brown ringlets shine caramel in the light of the sun as he continues up towards the platform at the top of the stilt.
I nod in response and follow close behind him.
“So what do we do with the old hay?” I have to raise my voice a little as a gust of cool wind muffles my words. The air tickles my skin as I climb higher and higher.
“We bag it up and feed it to the farm animals.”
He is parallel with me now as we levitate in synchrony.
I feel nauseated thinking about the sad lives those farm animals live.
Given old hay and bred purely to be devoured.
This shouldn’t pain me the way it does because I’m a carnivore.
I think about the bacon I had for breakfast this morning, and my mouth salivates, but I don’t hunt and kill the animals myself.
I don’t cram them in cages and then release them for a savage butchering.
And it’s not like it’s a short and sweet dance with death, it’s a slow and calculated hunt, a sadistic slaughter.
I remember the gazelle, here one moment and gone the next, crying as its flesh was mutilated and torn clean off its bones.
Elions are relentless, and they like to play with their food.
Jaxon must have caught the sorrow on my face because he gives me a consoling smile.
“The hay is only a day old, so the farm animals don’t mind. The elions are very particular; they must have a fresh bed every day, otherwise they get cranky.”
I understand how he thinks that knowing this will settle the sickness squirming in my stomach. I force down the lump in my throat and curve my lips into a small smile. I try not to think about the little deer’s carcass just below me. Gods help me when I am on feeding duty.
He stops at the top and grabs the netted material, hugging the huge face of the platform. He peels it away from the first corner and then floats to the next corner to do the same thing. He stops for a moment and stares at me.
“Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna help?”
His words force me to break my gaze.
“U-uuhhh yeah… sorry.”
My shoes carry me to the corners on the far end.
I copy Jaxon’s movements and unhook each netted lip from the wooden ninety-degree angle.
My brain slowly pieces together this clever process.
The hay sits on a huge netted sheet. The holes are as small as ants, so it acts as a bag for the hay when we lift each corner and gather it in the middle.
Jaxon twizzles the net and ties its corners into a messy knot.
He throws the mass of hay over his shoulder and floats a little higher towards a thin metal rope that runs streamline all the way through the elion territory.
He is not as elegant this time with the extra weight of the hay.
I’m sure it weighs a ton, and the shoes are struggling to meet his demands.
The long rope hangs from one end of the valley to the other.
It looks like it’s welded through a large rock on the peak of the highest valley; it runs diagonally all the way down to where the farm animals bide their time and get plump on old hay for the elions’ disposal.
Jaxon attaches a small hook through the loop of the bag and cradles it over the metal rope.
The bag glides seamlessly down the zip line and plummets to the ground next to the farmhouse below.
“One down, nine to go,” he pants at me, still out of breath from carrying three times his body weight in hay. The sun’s rays are hot, and Jaxon’s forehead is glistening in the light.
“Where does the new hay come from?” I question using the back of my hand to wipe the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
Jaxon rests his feet on the platform and points a finger behind me. I swivel my body in response.
“There’s a shed down there in the distance. It’s filled with hay and fresh nets. You okay doing the old hay and I’ll do the fresh?”
“Yeah. Are you sure you’ll be able to carry it all?” I question, watching the sweat thickening on his forehead from lifting one bag.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a friend to help me.”
He licks his lips and places his fingers between them, and a high-pitched whistle escapes his mouth.
A smile spreads across his face as he looks into the distance.
I bet I know who he’s calling. I place my hand over my eyebrows to shield my eyes from the sun and watch as an elion soars over to us. My guess is that’s Harlo.
“Later!” he says as he floats effortlessly towards the creature and jumps onto its back. I hear him click, and they swoop down towards the bedding shed. A laugh erupts from my mouth. Wow, it never gets old.
I hear footsteps down below, trudging in the mossy grass, and see a person walking towards me. He looks so small from up here. I squint my eyes and use my hand to shield the sun. He is much clearer now.
“Yo, Asha.”
My eyes fall on a very rough-looking Elijah, who is standing below the platform and staring up at me.
“Hi, Elijah. Are you okay?” I ask, concerned at the lack of colour in his face.
“Yeah, I’ll live. Sorry I’m late.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Do you know what I’m doing?” He laughs a little, probably feeling embarrassed.
I know that look. I think someone’s a little hungover.
“Ermm. I’m not sure. Ask Jaxon, he knows,” I say, pointing over at Jaxon, who is now riding Harlo over to us with a bag full of fresh hay.
Elijah nods his head, his hazel locks bouncing with his movement, and squints his eyes at him.
“Ahh, you must be Elijah. Easy job for you,” he says, pointing back towards the shed. “Can you bag up the fresh hay in the shed, ready for me and Harlo to collect it?”
Elijah looks over at the shed and nods his head.
“Yeah, mate, of course.”
He jogs a little, but not too fast, over to the shed and begins his duties.
Jaxon dresses the platform we had just undressed, with Harlo staying airborne next to him.
I’d better get on with the rest of the platforms. I float over to the far end, figuring it makes more sense to start at one end and work my way over.
Doing as Jaxon showed me, I start by loosening the net from the platform’s edge.
I find myself watching over my shoulder now that Jaxon is gone, knowing an elion could appear at any moment.
The thought makes me shudder, a reminder to keep my mask up.
I push the thought to the back of my mind because fear is ammunition here.
Bunching the first bag with a groan and heaving it over my shoulder, I attempt to wade over to the zip line.
Woah, Jaxon really wasn’t exaggerating. This bag weighs a ton.
My Influenced shoes are gasping for air.
With a struggle, I make it to the rope and clumsily sling the bag off my shoulder.
With a whoosh, it slides down, shrinking into the distance.
I dust my hands together, removing the excess hay stuck to my sweaty palms.
I’m on the third platform now, and this sun is relentless.
My skin is slick and shiny with sweat. I have to grip the net tighter, fearing it slipping straight out of my grasp.
My knuckles are white as I heave it over my shoulder.
I stop for a moment. The hairs on my neck stand up, and I get a strange tingling feeling.
I feel heavier now, my limbs like lead. The shoes fight me as I rise higher towards the rope.
I know they will thank me when I finish.
I struggle to catch my breath, but feel a huge sense of relief when the weight of the bag is distributed to the rope.
It bounces as the ton of hay slides en route to become animal food.
I swear I can hear the goats take a moment from chewing to celebrate in the distance.
“Ashaaaaaa.”
My head snaps towards the source of the noise.
“Who goes there?” I whisper-shout, turning in the other direction.
Maybe I am just imagining it. I didn’t get much sleep last night, or maybe this heat is finally getting to me.
I part my lips and swell the remaining saliva around in my mouth.
This sure is thirsty work. I fight the desire to abandon my duties, hang my shoes up, and run back to the dining hall to rehydrate with a cool drink of water.
“You okay?” Jaxon calls out from behind me, still upon Harlo. I pull myself together and wipe the sheen of sweat from my brow.
“I swear these podiums are taunting me,” I reply, not entirely joking. I float down towards the fifth platform, revelling in the slight breeze cooling me on my descent.
“It’s hard work, I know. If you need to take a break, just sit down for a minute or two.
” He looks at me with understanding before Harlo takes him to the neighbouring podium.
He is somehow still wearing his leather jacket, which shines as he rides under the sun’s rays.
I suppose it must get pretty windy with the force at which Harlo flies.
A grunt escapes my mouth, and my arms ache as I clip the last bag to the tired rope and give it a small, not quite yet defeated push, not that it needs it.
The bag shoots down like a bullet, and I wait for the sound of the bag hitting the floor with a bang.
I smile knowing that I am not on bedding duty again until next month, although my back and arms will probably still be sore.
I massage out the crook in my neck and relish the refreshing breeze that blows my hair.
The faint smell of my strawberry shampoo wafts around as Harlo and Jaxon fly past me to reload on hay.
I attempt to tame the curls by running my fingers through them, but I am a dishevelled mess.
The trainers thank me as I hang them back onto the hook of the podium. My feet breathe a sigh of relief as they are welcomed by fresh air. I watch the Influenced shoes loosen and morph back into their original size. Amazing.
My ankles groan as I squeeze my feet back into my tight boots.
I cannot wait to get back to my dorm room and take a long, cool shower.
Jaxon and Elijah are a few meters away, making their way towards the exit of the taming quadrant.
They turn their bodies to face me and beckon me to hurry up.
I throw them a smile and push myself to a jog to catch up with them.
The blades of grass are long and threaten to trip me up.
Although I would like a chance to lie down on the soft, pillowy meadow for a minute or two, I watch my step and pick my feet up above it as I jog.
“Ashaaaaa”
I freeze as the hair on my neck stands up again.
So, I wasn’t imagining it. But there is no one there.
Someone must be playing a trick on me or something.
The guys are somehow further into the distance now.
In unison, they look back, puzzled at my sudden stop.
Is this an initiation prank or something?
“Ashaaaaa”
The same voice beckons me again, making me jump for the third time.
I look around. The landscape is empty and quiet; the only movement is the grass swaying elegantly.
The wind shifts and the breeze fights me; someone wants my attention, and now they’ve got it.
Maybe it’s a Starkind thing; maybe we can speak to animals as well?
It could be the farm animals pleading with me for their escape.
It makes sense, single out the one full of empathy and regret and guilt them into their release.
My attention draws back to the guys who are still staring at me, confused. I take a moment and make up an excuse I think the boys will believe. “You boys go ahead. I left my earrings on the hook of the podium.”
I don’t have to be in close quarters with them to know that they scoff at my remark.
“Are you sure?” they call out in disbelief, rightfully worried about leaving me alone in an enclosure full of beasts.
I make a silent prayer to the Gods that they are all still grazing in the northern valley. You never know when an elion can make an appearance.
“Yeah, honestly. I won’t be five minutes.”
My cheeks redden. Even I am embarrassed by my excuse. Congratulations, Asha. One small step back for womankind. I watch as they nod their heads reluctantly and continue towards the stairs.
I am a crazy person. There is a phantom voice beckoning me, and I walk towards it…
What in the Gods name is wrong with me?!
Although I think I passed crazy in the rearview mirror when I created a portal to a land I had never heard of.
My boots scream with trepidation as I make my way slowly back towards the podium to keep up the ruse of searching for my forgotten item.
“Hello?” I whisper, looking around the valleys. The wind picks up around me, but I cannot see a single soul. This is really starting to frustrate me. If someone is messing with me, I would rather they just admit it.
“Up here.”
My head snaps up in response. I scan the sky but still see nothing except clouds.
The sun seems to be retiring behind them.
My gaze is blurred by the cotton candy clouds obscuring the view.
I let out a slight chuckle at the irony.
The sun decides to let up now after watching me for hours, sweating and aching.
I squint my eyes and blink a few times, hoping to blink the clouds away and clear my vision. Nothing. I don’t see a single thing.
“Stop playing games with me; this isn’t funny!
” I whisper-shout, still conscious of the boys seeing.
I wait for a response, but fail to get one.
Maybe this is a bad idea. Something just feels…
off. I look back at the guys who are almost at the floating steps and reach the podium to pretend to pick up something off the hook, then spin back around and continue walking back towards the stairs.
I’m clearly not going to get any answers, so I pick up the pace to catch up with them.
The grass squelches with every other step I take as my black boots sink into the brown mud a little as I shift my weight.
It must have rained last night. Another cold chill runs down my spine, causing me to look back again.
My senses are drawn to the clouds above me, and the feeling of being watched unsettles me.
I trudge a little faster, and now I am close to the steps. A sigh of relief escapes my rosy lips…
But it is short-lived.