Luna's Arc

Chapter 4 of 29

Luna woke to birdsong and a thin line of sun through the broken window. Her stomach clenched and growled. She had no food. She had no clean water. The cat pressed against her side, its green eyes open and watching. She sat up. Her mouth was dry, her hands weak. Her parents' note said one thing: stay alive. She could not do that in the shed. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold morning. She walked for an hour. The cat trotted beside her. Then she heard it, a soft rushing sound through the trees. She pushed past a wall of leaves and stopped. A clear stream ran over smooth stones. Fish darted under the surface, quick and silver. Thick blackberry vines curled along both banks, heavy with dark fruit. Luna dropped to her knees and cupped the water. It was cold and clean. She drank until her stomach ached, then splashed her face. Water was not enough. Her body needed food. She studied the fish. She needed a way to catch them. She snapped a straight branch from a fallen limb. She pulled a shoelace from her shoe and tied it to the end. Then she searched the blackberry vines and worked loose a long, sharp thorn. She fixed the thorn to the lace as a hook. She had made a fishing pole. Luna crouched at the edge and dipped the thorn into the current. She waited. Her arms shook from hunger. A fish drifted close, nosed the thorn, and struck. She yanked the pole up hard. The fish flew from the water and landed flapping on the stones. She pinned it with both hands. She had food. She had water. For the first time in days, she felt she might win. While the fish lay still, she turned to the vines and picked handfuls of blackberries. She crammed them into her mouth. Juice ran down her chin. She reached for more, and the cat hissed. Luna froze. The bushes across the stream shook. Something stepped out. It was a deer, but wrong. Its hide hung in torn strips. White bone showed through its ribs. Its eyes were pale and empty. It lowered its head and stared at her across the water. Behind it, more shapes moved through the trees. A whole herd. Their hooves scraped the stones. Luna grabbed the fish and the pole. The lead deer stepped into the stream. The water reached its bony legs. It kept coming. Luna scooped up the cat and ran. Branches tore at her arms. Behind her, hooves splashed and cracked against the rocks. She did not look back. She had her water, her fish, her pole. She had strength again. But now the dead things of the woods were chasing her, and she could not go back to the stream.