“Are you named Falcon? Or Hawk?”
“No and no. ” He stood and buckled his belt. Grabbed his bow and quiver. “I’ll take the eyepiece now. ”
Her eyebrows drew together, creasing the pale skin between. “No. ”
“Mole, if you’re seen with that device, there won’t be any way to pass you off as one of us. ”
“But I wore it yesterday. ”
“Yesterday was yesterday. Here on it’ll be different. ”
“Take your tattoos off first, Savage. ”
Perry froze, grinding down into his teeth. The funny thing about being called a Savage was that it made him want to act like one. “We’re not in your world anymore, Dweller. People die here and it’s not pseudo. It’s very, very real. ”
She tipped her chin up, daring him. “You do it then. You’ve seen how it’s done. ”
In a flash of memory, Perry saw Soren ripping the device off her face. He didn’t want to do this. He reached for the knife at his hip. “If that’s how it needs to be. ”
“Wait! I’ll do it. ” She turned away from him. When she faced him again seconds later, she had the device in her hand. Her face was tight with fury as she slipped it into a pocket.
Perry took a step toward her. He twirled the knife in his hand like any kid could do, but it worked, drawing her eye to the weapon. “I said I’ll take it. ”
“Stop! Just stay away from me. Here. ” She flung it at him.
Perry caught it, dropped it into his satchel. Then he walked away, nearly fumbling his knife as he slipped it back into its sheath.
Chapter 15
ARIA
Aria struggled to keep up with the Outsider the second day. Her feet grew worse with every step. Here on, it’ll be different, he’d said. But it hadn’t been. The hours passed much as they had the previous day. Constant walking. Constant pain. Headaches that came and went.
She’d given up speaking with the Outsider. They trudged in silence, with only the sound of her book covers crunching over the earth. She’d almost laughed when she’d read The Odyssey on the leather. It wasn’t a good omen for their journey. But she hadn’t seen any Sirens or Cyclops so far, just scrubby hills with clusters of trees here and there. She’d thought there’d be so much to fear out here, but her companion was the scariest thing around.
They spent an hour digging with flat rocks around midday. Somehow the Outsider had found water a foot beneath the ground. They filled their waterskins and ate in silence. When they were done they sat for a while, the Aether flowing calmly above them. The Outsider looked up, considering the sky. He’d done it often throughout the day. There was something so intent in the way he studied the Aether. Like he found meaning in it.
Aria lined her collection of rocks in front of her. She was up to fifteen. She noticed dirt under her fingernails. Were her nails longer? They couldn’t be. Nails weren’t supposed to grow. Nail growth was regress. Pointless, so it had been eliminated.
The Outsider brought out a flat stone from his leather pack and began to sharpen his knife. Aria watched him from the corner of her eye. His hands were broad and big boned. They drew the blade over the smooth surface in even, sure strokes. The metal hissed a quiet rhythm. Her gaze drifted higher. Daylight caught on the fine blond fuzz over his jaw. Facial hair was another trait genetic engineers had done away with. The Outsider’s hands stopped. He peered up, a quick flash of green. Then he put away his things and they walked again.
In all the quiet, Aria was left to circle in her own thoughts. They weren’t good ones. Her enthusiasm over finding the Smarteye had worn off. She’d tried distracting herself yesterday by observing the outside, but that no longer worked. She missed Paisley and Caleb. She thought about her mother and wondered about the “Songbird” message. She worried that her feet would get infected. Whenever a headache flared, she imagined that it was the first symptom of an illness that would kill her.
Aria wanted to feel like herself again. A girl who chased the best music in the Realms and bored her friends with facts on inane subjects. Here, she was a girl with leather book covers for shoes. A girl stuck walking across hills with a mute Savage if she had any hope of staying alive.
She made up a tune to match all the fear and helplessness she kept locked inside. A mournful, terrible melody that was her secret, sung only in the privacy of her thoughts. Aria hated the tune. Hated even more how much she needed it. She vowed that when she found Lumina, she’d leave this pathetic part of herself on the outside where it belonged. She’d never sing the sad melody again.
That night, she collapsed before the Outsider had the fire burning, wrapped in the blue fleece blanket. She rested her head on his leather bag, finding that she needed a pillow more than she feared filth.
She had never known this much pain. She had never been this tired. She hoped that was it. That she was tired, and not surrendering to the Death Shop.
On the morning of their third day of traveling together, the Outsider divided the last of the food he’d brought from the cave. He ate, avoiding looking her way, as usual. Aria shook her head. He was rude and cold and eerily animal, with his flashing green eyes and his wolfish teeth, but by some miracle they’d struck a deal. She could’ve had worse luck than to have crossed paths with him.
Aria chewed on a dried fig as she ran through the inventory of her discomforts. A headache, muscle pains, and cramps low in her stomach. She couldn’t look at the soles of her feet anymore.
“I’ll have to hunt later,” the Outsider said, poking at the fire with a stick. The morning was cooler. They’d been climbing steadily into higher terrain. He’d put on a long-sleeved shirt beneath the leather vest. It was a tired white color, rife with loose threads and patched holes. It looked like something a shipwreck survivor might wear, but she found it easier to look at him fully dressed.
“Fine,” she said, and frowned. Monosyllabicism. An Outsider disease, and she’d been infected.