Aster Alloway's Arc

Chapter 2 of 26

The compass tugged toward the hills all night. By morning Aster stood in her shop, the glass spores glowing pink against her palm. The arrow pointed past the city, into the wild groves. She could follow it now. But she looked down at her thin apron and bare feet and stopped. Beyond the streets there would be no water, no shelter, no road back. She had never spent one night outside her shop. Excitement drained out of her. She had the trail but nothing to survive it. She packed what she could. Two hands filled a basket with seedpods and a water flask. The other two folded a blanket. It looked pitiful. She knew it. One cold night in the groves would end her before she found the bloom. Aster crossed the street again and knocked on the painter's door. Bella answered with a wet brush in her hand. Red paint dripped on the floor. Her tired eyes narrowed when she saw the packed basket. "I told you. I won't guide you." "I'm not asking you to walk with me," Aster said. "I'm asking how you survive out there. You go for weeks. You come back. How?" Bella stood still. Her dog pushed past her legs and sniffed Aster's basket. For a long moment the painter said nothing. Then she stepped aside. Inside, canvases of glowing groves covered the walls. Bella set down her brush and pulled a worn pack from beneath her worktable. She dropped it at Aster's feet. "Firestarter," she said, opening the flaps. "Waxed cloth for rain. Dried root that won't spoil. A knife." She lifted each item and set it in Aster's hands. "The groves flood at night. Sleep high. Never drink from still water." Aster's four hands closed around the gear. "Why help me now?" Bella's jaw tightened. She turned to a painting of a misted valley. "I went out unready once. I nearly didn't come back." She touched the canvas. "I painted these so I'd never have to go again." She looked at Aster. "You'll go whether I help or not. At least go alive." Aster shouldered the pack. It was heavy and real. The blanket in her own basket looked like a child's toy beside it. "Thank you," Aster said. This time Bella did not wave her off. At the door, Bella spoke again, low. "One more thing. The pack was my sister's. She went for that same bloom, a hundred years back by the old count." Her hand rested on the frame. "She never came home. If you find her out there, bring me something. A petal. Anything." Aster froze. The compass warmed against her chest, still pointing past the city. She had her gear now. She could survive the wild. But the groves had swallowed someone before. And Bella wanted her back. Aster stepped into the street, the pack heavy on her shoulders, and turned toward the hills.