Just as I started drifting off again, a giant clap of thunder made me bolt upward. Micah grimaced.
"Sorry for waking you," he whispered, and I just nodded sleepily.
I was aware of how close he was, settling by my side and thoughtfully playing with a few strands of my hair. It occurred to me then how awful I must look without brushing my hair or bathing or even changing my clothes. I would have blushed, if I wasn’t so exhausted.
"Do you mind if I take a nap, too?" Micah asked, yawning.
My groginess vanished; I whirled around with wide eyes. "You haven't been sleeping?" I demanded. Why hadn't the bloodshot tints in his eyes?
“A little,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “I wanted to stay awake to keep a look-out.”
“I could have done look-out for you,” I said, staring at him coldly. “I’m not completely worthless, you know. You can trust me.”
“I do trust you,” he said, frowning. “I just wanted to make you safe.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “You sleep; I’ll take care of it.”
“But now you’re tired,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m okay, really.”
“I’ve have more rest than you,” I pointed out. “We can take the day off tomorrow.”
His frown deepened; he didn’t like the idea of cutting off travel.
“Or we could keep going,” I said hastily. “I’ll be okay.”
He sighed in defeat, lowering his head to the ground and flipping onto his back. “Wake me up if you see anything. And I mean anything,” he insisted. “I need a short notice if we’re going to hide.”
“Okay, okay,” I insisted. “I can handle it.”
Micah normally would have frowned, unsure, but he was already asleep minutes later. I sat upright, forced my eyes open, and tried to clear my mind in order to stay alert. It was very hard, hidden here in the darkness, not to realize how fragile our future really was. Micah had not gone into detail to decribe our plans once we reached Clementon, and I feared that his reason was because he wasn't sure himself.
At least we’ll have each other, I thought miserably.
And then…
And then a plan of my own started to unravel.
How could I sit here and live with the fact that I’d ruined his life? Although his reason remained a mystery to me, he'd given up his family and home to damn himself by my side. If only he'd been too late, and Elijah had already finished his gruesome task. At least Micah could have returned to the village, innocent, and had food and shelter and clothing...these were things I could never given him. I depended on him for my survival - for my life. But what if Elijah didn’t have to be the only one to pose the threat of death?
The very picture that flashed through my mind made me feel sick. And yet, if it would help Micah…it would be possible. It could possible. I would do it. I had to.
Quietly as possible, I lifted the burlap sack from his side and rummaged through its contents. After digging at the bottom of the sack, I found what I was searching for: a dagger.
Its blade was sturdy metal; as I ran a finger over the sharp tip, it sliced through my skin. A small drop of blood spread from the cut, and I tried not to think about how much more would soon follow.
I couldn't help but whimper softly. My conscious mind stalled for time, frantically searching for any other solution. But there was none.
I wished I had a note to leave…some way of explaining my decision…I shuddered to think of the conclusions he’d come to. My only hope was that he’d be able to find his way back to the village and think up some excuse for his absence.
The metal blade lightly scraped my forearm, and the sensation made the butterflies in my stomach turn into hornets. My trembling nearly made the dagger fall out of my grasp, but I steadied myself in time to raise it to my chest.
A dozen fears burst into my head at once. What if my strength wasn’t enough, and it stabbed only halfway into my chest and left me to bleed to death? Or what if Elijah’s superstitions were correct? What would become of my spirit once my body was gone?
Micah gave a shuddering snore, and I shrieked, flinging the dagger away into the forest. As it flew through the air, the silver glinted in my direction, winking. Another clap of thunder growled through the branches.
Micah rolled over in his sleep, and I considered waking him up. Goosebumps were raised all over my skin, and a few splashes of cold rainwater continued to drip down through the cover of trees. Despite the simple beauty of the place, I was afraid. But just the thought of Micah here beside me was enough to let the fear ebb away, and after a momemt I curled beside him. His warm skin and soft breathing sent me waves of comfort, and eventually the bad thoughts were driven away, allowing my mind to drift into an uncomfortable sleep.
The hiking continued on once he woke up, and he commented on misplacing the dagger.
“I’m so sorry, Azalea,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “It must have fallen somewhere.”
I just nodded sympathetically. I was too afraid of the dagger to spend much time looking for it, or to explain the episode I’d had last night. Perhaps Micah had thought the dagger gave me a sense or relief, knowing that we had a weapon to defend ourselves from danger, but he was wrong. I liked being innocent, knowing that we were incapable of causing any harm.
And so we trudged along, resting every half an hour or so on Micah’s commands.
“We’ll have to find a doctor once we get into town. I'm worried about your head." He smirked. "Not that I wasn't worried about it before, too."
"I'm fine," I insisted, making a face at his pathetic joke. He didn't look remotely abashed, but he did look skeptical. I hadn't been entirely truthful - my head did feel faintly dizzy, and if I turned my neck the wrong way the pain was enough to stall our hike for a few minutes.
He sighed.
We kept walking regardless, occasionally chattering about the weather or the birds that danced overhead. My terrors from the previous night crept innocently into the conversation, and I tried my best to sound indifferent. "Hey, Micah?" I asked.
"Hmm?" he answered, abruptly cutting off his description of woodpeckers.
"I was just thinking about the village," I said lightly. That was what we called it - The Village. As far as I knew, the place had no specific name, and The Village made it sound less official. "What...was it like?"
His eyes widened slightly. We hadn't discussed the village in a long time, and the topic made him suddenly uneasy. After a long moment of silence, however, he spoke.
"It wasn't like a normal village." The past tense made the story sound malancholy. "We were less like villagers, and more like...family. Even if we weren't blood-related."
He stopped, but my curiousity drove me on. "But where did you come from? How long have you been there?"
There was an internal struggle taking place in his eyes - pain. I regretted my question, wishing that I could take it back and continue our conversation about woodpeckers, but it was too late for that. "I’m not actually sure where our heritage was from, or how long we’d been there. It was sort of like...a clan. But we weren't complete savages. Elijah said that we saw things differently than the English. We didn't like war, or the way the government ran things. So we chose to live separately. I think we might have sailed from another country - one that was ransacked in battle - but of course, Elijah would never admit that we had to flee from a lost cause." He scowled at the memory of Elijah. “But that’s over now.” His tone made it clear that the discussion was closed. "The city life will be better, anyway. This will be fun." He faked a smile, beaming at me in a crooked grimace. So I grimaced back.
“Not too far now,” he said casually. “I can find work to do, and we can save up to buy a house. But for the time being, we’ll probably have to return to the forest every afternoon.”
He was chattering now, but his chattering terrified me. Were we really that close to civilization? Was it too late for my plan to take place?
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “We’ve been going on for a while. Let’s rest.”
“Fine,” I agreed. I needed to think things over, anyway.
“Do you mind?” he asked as he sprawled out on a random spot on the ground, his head propped slightly against a rock. “Wake me up in a few minutes. Then we can switch.”
“Fine.” I nodded, gesturing for him to continue. It was disturbing how easily I could fall asleep - under a minute’s notice. Micah, however, he could easily fit into a ten-second notice.
His loud snoring keened off at a low note, and I settled myself onto my back to stare at the sky. It was early in the day. Around twelve or one o’ clock, I’d guess. I thought about being in the city and marveled at how strange it would be - I would be able to determine the exact time, and after a week of hard work we’d be eating actual meals, whereas in the forest we helped ourselves to a gruesome snack whenever our stomachs churned.
A sudden idea came to me - why not go back, look around for the dagger? If I ran, it might not take so long, and it wasn’t as if Micah would realize how much time had passed while he was unconscious. When he woke up and realized I was gone, it would be a clean cut. I just prayed that my courage wouldn’t falter again, that my last experience had taught me a lesson.
I set off at a desparate sprint, tearing aside the branches and stumbling often. I knew that we had been in an open area, so I began to venture from the safety of the trail. Despite my efforts, there was no sign of anything hidden in the maze of green, and it couldn't have been a mere ten minutes later that my confidence faded, and panic took over every instict. I couldn't even find the trail, now, let alone the tiny metal dagger. Every rock, every blade of grass, every patch of dirt seemed just as familiar as it had been seconds ago. My head ached, and my legs numbed. My fear then, however, was nothing compared to the chill I felt when a sudden voice broke out from the silence.
“Hey, look over there!" they called, and I couldn't tell if the echoes were from the isolated forest or from my own mind. The speaker appeared from behind a spruce tree - it was an elder, gray-haired man - and he had a younger boy at his side, about nine or ten.
I started running aimlessly, but I tripped, and they stood over me without malice or danger in their expressions.
“Hello,” said the older man in a hearty, humorous tone.
“Hello,” I gasped.
“What’s your name?” he asked, nudging the younger boy. No doubt I was some kind of entertainment - a wild girl.
“Azalea,” I choked through the lump in my throat. It didn’t occur to me to use a false name, because I didn’t know any false names to use.
“Pretty name,” he chuckled. “What’re you doing out in the forest, Azalea?”
“Hiking,” I lied. “I got lost.”
He laughed again, louder this time. “Need some help?”
The boy at his side looked suddenly fearful, perhaps as he was trying to pinpoint what kind of diseases I might be inflicted with.
“No,” I answered immediately. “I can find my way back.”
He eyed my thin, bony figure. “Hungry, Azalea?” He offered me a slice of bread, with what looked a lot like melted cheese on it. I didn't have time to consider the threat of poisions - they looked like a harmless couple, and I was too hungry to care what the possibilities might be otherwise.
“Thank you,” I said as I nibbled hesitantly on the crusts of the bread. Once my taste buds kicked in, the delicious flavor could not be savored - I swallowed the rest entirely.
He smiled, offering another slice. The little boy elbowed him, edging away.
“It’s okay, Paul,” he grinned. “She’s friendly, see?”
I was too starving to be insulted. What was I, some kind of caged animal on display?
I ate another slice of bread, and then half of an apple. Only then did the thought of Micah occur to me - he must be hungrier than ever. So I saved the rest of the apple.
“Thank you,” I said pleasantly, “but I’d better go now. Do you know where the trail is?"
"Over there," he said, pointing east. "I thought I heard an elk, and I wanted to show Paul here exactly what they look like. Hunting season's not too far away."
I felt too relieved to feel disgusted. Instead, I took off through the trees, nearly sobbing with joy when the dirt path came into view. I could still hear the old man's chuckle from behind. This time I walked slowly, searching more thoroughly. I knew that I was heading in the right direction now, and sure enough, it didn't take long to find our make-shift campsite. Micah's dark hair could be seen from behind the ferns.
I didn’t want him to be suspicious of the perfectly red apple, so I made sure to batter it around quite a bit before I woke him.
“Here, Micah,” I said gently, prodding his shoulder. “Breakfast.”
The sight of edible food instantly aroused him, and he wiped off the dirt before he dug his teeth into the fruit. Then he looked up.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, shamefully offering me the last two bites of the apple. But I shook my head.
“I found another one to eat. That’s all there was,” I lied as he ate. After a while, Micah fell asleep again, and this time I willingly joined him. All thoughts of suicide were banished from my mind, now - whatever future awaited us would have to suffice.
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