Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Bark rasped across my palms.
I blew out a slow breath, sliding my foot to toe a small branch as I released one hand, then the other.
My knees trembled, but I didn’t look up or down, just straight ahead at the deep, brown bark shimmering red in the sunlight filtering through the trees.
The song of the ripa birds flitted through, playing in the light, and I took another deep breath.
“Almost there!” Kalsyun called, hands cupped around his mouth.
The rest were at the forest floor, waiting for me.
As the youngest in our group, I was the last to descend and I would be the last to climb.
Eventually I ran out of branches and had to grab for the knot a few feet down and wrap my arms around the thick trunk, not that I could even think of reaching fully around its circumference.
But then hands curled around my waist, more than one set, and helped me down.
There were five of us this cycle making the ascent—following the path of our parents and grandparents before us, our ancestors before us.
We would climb the home tree from root to canopy, dipping our hands in the sap that pooled in a hollow at the top and pressing our mark there with the others.
An arm wrapped around my waist and I smiled up at Yen.
She was taller than the rest of us, even taller than Kalsyun, and would be the first to climb.
Her hair caught in the light, illuminating the red strands in her brown hair, the same as mine.
A hand wrapped around my elbow and I sighed, resting my head on Kal’s shoulder while I knew Chars and Lyla on the other side would be doing the same.
“I wonder how long it’ll take to get to the top,” I huffed breathlessly, craning my neck toward the canopy. Around me, the four of them groaned.
“June, spare us the nervous chatter.” Chars ruffled my hair around Kal’s back while Yen shook me.
I rolled my eyes, biting back the urge to talk through our methods of climbing, discuss the order we would go in, fill the heavy silence around us.
This was it, our ascent into adulthood. A rite of passage that meant more than merely being recognized as equals within our community, it was an opportunity to travel, to see beyond our home—maybe even beyond our world.
I knew not everyone left, but I hoped I would be one of the lucky few chosen.
My mother had been before I was born. She’d lived on multiple Federation outposts for a few years, learning routes of trade for paper and other goods from our planet before bringing that knowledge home.
“Ready?” Kalsyun asked, untying his hair from the knot on the top of his head and running his fingers through it.
Yen released me and Lyla, shaking out her arms. “Yeah, I’m ready, I think.”
She stepped up to each of us in turn, pressing her brow to ours as we tangled our hands in each other’s hair, breathing in deep. Then she turned back to the tree, found her first hold and started the climb.
It was perhaps a half hour before Chars went next, his golden-brown skin a contrast to the bark as he made his ascent. Lyla followed, her entire body vibrating to the point that her tight brown curls seemed to be alive.
Eventually it was just Kalsyun beside me, his heavy arm around my shoulder and dark eyes scouring my face.
“I think we should do the climb together,” he murmured, tucking me closer into him.
I wrapped an arm around his back, shaking my head.
Even though I had a younger sister who was nearing two cycles, I was just as close to him as I was to her—if not more.
I knew Kal’s and my parents were hoping perhaps with time our familial love might turn into something deeper.
We weren’t sure that would happen, at least not any time soon.
Kal was my brother and nothing more. “We can’t, it has to be alone. ”
He sighed, breath ruffling my hair. “I don’t want to leave you on the ground.”
To be honest, I didn’t either. It was rare we were on the ground and the squelching leaves beneath my boots turned my stomach a bit. But there were few animals in our area, even fewer that would be a threat. Yet still, his grip on me tightened.
“We could climb at least the first leg together, and then you could wait a bit to come the rest of the way.”
But I was already shaking my head. It was crucial we climbed alone. In a village like ours, solitude was rare, and it was important to our elders we found strength within ourselves. We couldn’t always rely on others.
“Go on.” I untangled myself from his hold and pushed him toward the tree despite the fact he was a good head taller than me even at fifteen.
His shoulders bunched toward his ears and, though he reached out to place a hand on the trunk, Kal turned back to face me, as though he was memorizing each of my features.
His skin was pale like mine, though his eyes were a dark green, almost black in some lights.
It was a striking contrast to his blond brows and bright blond hair.
“I’ll be waiting at the top, June.” He pressed his brow to mine one last time.
In another breath he was gone, climbing until he was swallowed by the wide branches and thick green and purple leaves.
The air prickled on the back of my neck and I tried to swallow the rising tension in my belly.
I looked around almost instinctually, sure for a moment someone was behind me.
Shaking my head, I moved to the trunk, spreading my fingers wide and pressing my forehead to the bark.
Never in my life had I been alone like this and, though I knew it was part of our rite, knew it was what every single person in my village had done before, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to be alone like this again.
I hated the quiet, filled only with the breeze and song of the ripa birds.
I loved the bright cheery hum of our home tree, the singing of the elders, and the work you could hear throughout the day.
“Time to go,” I murmured, reaching for the first handhold.
My toe slipped, but I righted myself at the last moment, arms trembling more out of nerves than exertion as I reached for the next hold. The first branch was almost within reach, just there. I pushed myself up higher, hand outstretched wide…
The world exploded around me.
I fell hard enough the air whooshed out of my lungs and I couldn’t catch my breath. Spindly fronds pushed into my back, scraping against my face. Above me the canopy whipped in the wind, screams carried to me across the distance as if my family was reaching out their arms.
Shadowy figures slipped across the branches and it was the ropes more than anything that told me these figures were outsiders. They were hopping from other, smaller trees to our home tree and rappelling down from the sky itself.
No, not from the sky itself. In the break in the canopy, I could just make out silver ships.
That was what had been reflecting through the trees—not the sun.
My scream was lost in the sound of the bodies falling from the sky, arms and legs flailing wildly before they landed within the branches with sickening cracks.
I tried not to look at their faces as I rolled to my side. My breaths came in heavy painful pants. I groaned, white-hot agony zinging down my left leg.
Footfalls crashed through the underbrush and I froze. A dozen figures or so stood only paces away, clad in all black. But they wore no helmets, no armor, only various weapons strapped to their fatigues.
The two at the front were locked in a discussion, though I couldn’t understand the words—whatever argument they held wasn’t in Universal.
But a male with deep purple skin and spines that split his skull in two pointed at the male with long black hair and then at the home tree before storming up to the trunk and shooting a gun into the branches.
In another moment the superior and half the crew had disappeared into the canopy, where the cries of my people echoed through my skulls.
“What do we do?” one of the figures asked, hoisting the weapon in his arms higher.
The male turned to face him and my breath caught.
His blue cheekbones were sharp, a contrast to his soft full lips and thick eyelashes.
Linear silver markings danced down the right side of his face, across his throat and into the collar of his shirt.
Danger rippled from him with each breath he took and I was frozen to the spot.
But his eyes were hard as he stared at the figure, throat bobbing with a swallow before he turned back to the home tree. “Burn it to the ground.”
I screamed as the base of my home tree went up in flames, bodies falling like rain around us, the scent of scorched flesh and wood thick in my nose. And for a moment I could have sworn I’d heard the scream of a child and known, somehow, it was my sister.
With a start I sat straight up in bed. The cry burned through my throat, echoing through my room. Sweat poured down my back and I wiped at my face, taking heaving gasps as I pushed the covers from my shaking legs and placed my feet flat on the cold metal floor.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory, so much more vivid than usual.
Over the cycles I’d repressed the memory of my sister, of the life she’d had laid out before her.
And I could not forget now, matter how much I tried, the fear as ash had snowed around me before one faction of his group found me in the brush, dragged me out by my hair and tied me up.
I’d screamed through my gag until vomit had rushed up my throat and I’d almost choked.
That had been when they’d knocked me out and I’d woken up on Ebyd III.
I’d woken up a prisoner. An orphan. The sole survivor of my village.
And it was all because of Captain Ruciyah.