Aster Alloway's Arc

Chapter 5 of 26

Three days past the stream, Aster stopped to eat. She opened the pack Bella had lent her. One strip of dried root lay at the bottom. Her water skin sloshed thin. She drank a small mouthful and made herself stop. The compass still burned toward the dark trees ahead. But she felt her legs shake when she stood. Without more food and water, she would not reach the bloom. She would fall in these groves like the woman before her. She searched the ground for anything to eat. Most plants here wept red or curled away from her hand. Then she saw a low vine heavy with purple fruit. Each one was round and covered in short spikes. She reached for one, then stopped. She did not know if it would feed her or kill her. A slow crunch of leaves made her turn. A tortoise came gliding through the brush. Its shell spiraled with soft shifting colors, like oil on water. It moved without fear straight to the spiked vine. With calm jaws it bit a purple fruit and chewed. Aster watched it eat. If the fruit poisoned nothing, it would poison her. The tortoise ate a second one and lived. "You first," Aster whispered. "Thank you." She pulled a fruit free. The spikes bent soft against her palm. She tore it open. Inside sat pale green flesh, wet and sweet-smelling. She ate. It filled her mouth with cool juice. She ate three more and felt her arms steady. She stuffed a dozen into her pack. The tortoise turned and glided deeper into the brush. Aster followed. It led her to a fallen trunk half-sunk in moss. No, not a trunk. A trunk in the other sense. A storage chest, dark blue, painted with yellow stars, its silver corners green with age. Someone had left it here long ago. Her hands shook as she worked the latch. It gave. Inside lay sealed jars of water, still clear, and dried cakes wrapped in cloth. On top sat a small blue orb on a clawed stand, its swirls turning though nothing moved it. She lifted it. A dry whisper brushed her ear, too faint to catch. She set it down. The food mattered more. Then she saw the cloth beneath the jars. Same weave as her torn strap. Same weave as the pack on her back. Bella's sister had packed this chest. She had made it this deep, and further. She had meant to come back for it. Aster filled her water skins to the top. She loaded the dried cakes and the spiked fruit until her pack strained. She could press on now. She had days of food and days of water. But the chest told her the truth plainly. The woman before her had been strong, and stocked, and careful. And the groves had still taken her. Aster shut the starred lid. She stood, heavier and stronger, and followed the burning compass into the dark trees.