Lillibeth Tripp's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

The wind still screamed past the dome, but inside, a new problem stirred. The pink rabbit twitched on the moss. Its ears flicked. Its small wings jerked. The calming herbs were wearing off, and the cloak under its claws was already frayed from the last panic. Lillibeth moved fast. She pulled out a rugged woven sack from her pack, the kind with a breathable body and a tight drawstring mouth. She had saved it for food. Now it would hold something far more frantic. She scooped the rabbit up before its eyes fully opened. The rabbit kicked. One claw caught her thumb. Lillibeth hissed but did not let go. She slid it into the sack head-first, loosened the cinch just enough for air, and tied the cord in a quick knot. The woven sides bulged and shook. The cloak, she saw, was safe. Not torn further. She sat back, breathing hard, and only then noticed the figure in the dome's entrance. A girl stood there, soaked, a tool belt at her hip. "Saw your light flash," the girl said. "Followed it down." Her blue eyes went to the kicking sack, then to Lillibeth's bleeding thumb. "Smart. Bag breathes. Claws can't reach the cloak." "Tala," the girl added, like it was an afterthought. She stepped inside without asking. Outside, past her shoulder, Lillibeth could see a jagged ring of purple stone the girl had stacked against the wind — a rough shelter wall, half-built, abandoned when she spotted the green flicker. Beyond it sat the dark mouth of a broken-open burrow, cracked stone jutting inward like teeth. That was where the rabbit must have come from, before Lillibeth ever found it. The sack jerked once more, then went still. The rabbit was contained. The cloak was whole. But Lillibeth was no longer alone in her shelter, and the girl with the steady eyes was watching her like she already knew where Lillibeth was going.