The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Seven by Trevor A. A. Evans
“the people are afraid that there are still rangers hiding here.”
“I guess that’s true today,” I reply.
It was Wade who explained to me the other day why the plains’ inhabitants so easily accepted the disbandment of his people. It was a slow sort of persuasion. Strange things started happening, from attacks on small rural villages to strange disappearances throughout the land. The rangers blamed some hidden darkness and began searching the reaches of the plains for answers, but none came as the horrors only got worse.
Things began turning against the rangers when a large village far to the east had its entire population vanish overnight. A rumor began spreading that the rangers had done it, that they had invented the reapers as a way to justify the authority they had gained through the years of protection they’d provided. Most dismissed such tales at first, but as darkness continued to spread, some towns and cities began casting out the rangers.
As it happened, those places would in most cases be almost immediately freed of the plagues and misfortunes that had been going on for some time. This prompted more cities to join the movement, until the rangers eventually lost all havens of refuge. Peace settled over the land, except wherever rangers were found, and so the people began to fear them. According to Wade, that fear remains very real even now, which explains why no one would seek to settle in these abandoned homes.
Once my bindings are removed, I begin taking off the rest of my disguise, but Wade stops me.
“Leave it on, the hood, too. It will make it easier to flee danger when night comes.”
“Are we expecting to have to run?” I look at Yori concerned.
“We should be expecting everything. Who know why they really let us in? There’s little time to waste, and we should assume the worst. We must get to Mavyn. I’ll check to see if she’s still in the city, and where we need to go to find her.”
He pauses and then looks over at Yori, “Keep her safe. No matter what happens, don’t come after me.”
Yori nods, and Wade begins walking out the way we came before turning around and glancing at us one more time. At that instant, an old fear enters my heart. I remember back in the canyons before Sanctuary, when Wade was suddenly gone, how I had wished for him to leave only to regret that desire the moment he was out of my sight. I feel that regret again as he steps briskly down a narrow corridor and beyond view.
I stare off that direction for a long moment, long enough that Yori eventually has to snap me out of my gaze.
“He’ll be okay. I would always wonder if it was my last time seeing him whenever he disappeared, but he never failed to make it back. This time will be no different.”
He then puts his arm around my shoulder and walks me toward a shaded corner where a table and some chairs have been collecting dirt and dust. He brushes one seat off for me and then plops down into another without wiping it clean.
“How are we ever going to do this?” I ask after a brief silence.
“Do what, exactly?” he says probing, like he has the answer but wants me to figure things out for myself.
“I don’t even know,” I frustrate. “What good can we possibly accomplish in this place? Your people were hunted down, and mine have likely fallen into darkness under my brooding sister. This place just seems like a hopeless, maddening whirlwind.”
I appreciate that Yori doesn’t respond at first, though he gives me an encouraging smile. He probably has a response, but he always waits for it, really thinks about what I’ve said. There’s something about someone who truly listens, whose heart is right there in front of you, that makes more of a difference than words can say, and Yori is that kind of person. It brings me the warmth of hope that he must somehow feel.
“It’s hard to imagine now the many years ago when I was a child,” he says with a light chuckle, his eyes toward the fading light in the sky above us. “I was quite troubled. My mind was always racing, but my heart was always hurting. The doctors called it melancholy, a sort of emotional firestorm in my body.
“Some days were harder than others, but my mother always sensed them coming. She was a very compassionate person. Wherever pain was, she seemed to find it, as though it was her purpose in life to put it out like a blazing fire wherever it took root. Like the waters of the sea swallowing a volcano.
“When I felt these hurtful feelings, it seemed like there was no hope, no way of overcoming them. Each time, I would fear that the sadness would be staying for good. Whenever I expressed that fear to her, she’d always reply, ‘No matter how far the sea goes in any direction, there is always a shore on the other end and a vessel strong enough to carry you.’
“That stuck with me. I enjoyed puzzles, but I never looked at what I was going through as problem that needed solving. Rather, it was as a storm that needed enduring. But the boat my mom would speak of wasn’t just withstanding the tempests of life. It had a destination in mind, and so did I.
“Such a simple idea gave me the strength to always look at how I could keep moving forward. That’s why I’ve been trying to clear the marshes, to find a new hope, a new vessel and shore. But in the past few weeks, I’ve become convinced that what you carry with you might be an even greater hope, and that the girl carrying it could be the only person courageous enough to bear that hope all the way to its distant shore.”
These profound words really move me, and I can’t think of anything to say back. It has felt as though the glimmering hope within me has been fading slowly with the passing of time, but in this moment I can feel it again like a burst of light pushing through storm clouds. I hope I’ll be able to hold onto it. I hope I can become the person Yori sees in me.
The conversation becomes lighter after that, which I’m grateful for since more warm sentiments might have brought my fragile state to tears. Yori tells more stories from his childhood, things he probably hasn’t talked about in ages. He seems to get lost in them as the sky becomes completely dark, the flicker of distant torches our only source of light.
Night doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. The blackness is still unnerving when compared to the stars and constellations of my childhood, but it is no longer a terrible thing for me to sit in a complete void and converse like it’s the middle of day.
My mind wanders to Wade occasionally, but I try to ignore the thought and focus back on Yori. He doesn’t bring Wade up either, or what we will need to do next, and I wonder if it’s so that I don’t worry. Wade told us not to come after him, so there’s nothing to do but wait. That is until we hear a soft, tapping echo across the square and immediately go silent.
I feel an icy shiver on my skin as Yori slowly gets up and begins walking with soft, crouched steps over to the trees, his hand hovering over his gun. I try to follow him, but he motions back with open palm to get me to stop. He then becomes perfectly still, scanning in every direction before waving at me to come stand by him next to the little grove.
“There is a hollow at the base of the centermost tree covered in grass,” he whispers, pointing toward the center of the grove as though he wants me to go there now. “If you step down into it, there is a grate that opens into the lower canals.”
“You’re coming with me, right?” I ask, the thought of being left alone terrifying me enough to consider disregarding his instructions and staying by his side.
“I will soon, but we won’t make it far if we’re being followed. Just wait for me, I won’t be long.”
The look I give begs him to not go, but it is too dark for him to see the panic behind my eyes. Something must have happened to Wade, otherwise he’d be back by now, and I have it set in my mind that if Yori leaves my sight, I’ll lose him, too. I’m not ready for that yet.
“Kaela, you can do this,” he says, placing his hand firmly on my shoulder, his long fingers squeezing me tightly.
I nod. I’ve found it’s the only way I can communicate when I feel so shaky. I then take a deep breath and do as he says, at least partially. Once I get to the tree and fi
nd the spot he’s talking about, I step back out toward the other side of the trees and watch him carefully navigate the hall the noise came from.
He stops and looks back for a moment. I’m not sure if he can see me. A torch beyond where he stands faintly illuminates his frame, but is likely too weak to light my watchful eyes. I want him to come back over. There is nothing there. We need to leave now and figure out how to get to Mavyn ourselves.
I’m just about to call out to him and tell him that, but then another loud click echoes behind him, and his head jerks that way. He moves quickly toward its source around a corner and disappears from my view. I stare anxiously, my heart pounding, my panic so real that I forget to breathe. Minutes pass, and he doesn’t come back, nor can I hear his footsteps. I become hopeless and petrified, left wondering where I could even run or what I should do without his or Wade’s guidance.
“Pssss,” a quiet whisper sounds from the trees behind me.
I turn sharply and, not seeing anyone, creep warily toward the hollow, where the faint voice hisses again.
“Pssss.”
As my eyes readjust to the darkness, I notice the silhouette of someone crawling up out of the hole, causing me to stumble back and reach into my cloak where my own gun is hidden.
“Kaela, I’m not here to hurt you,” the person speaks quietly, in a voice
“I guess that’s true today,” I reply.
It was Wade who explained to me the other day why the plains’ inhabitants so easily accepted the disbandment of his people. It was a slow sort of persuasion. Strange things started happening, from attacks on small rural villages to strange disappearances throughout the land. The rangers blamed some hidden darkness and began searching the reaches of the plains for answers, but none came as the horrors only got worse.
Things began turning against the rangers when a large village far to the east had its entire population vanish overnight. A rumor began spreading that the rangers had done it, that they had invented the reapers as a way to justify the authority they had gained through the years of protection they’d provided. Most dismissed such tales at first, but as darkness continued to spread, some towns and cities began casting out the rangers.
As it happened, those places would in most cases be almost immediately freed of the plagues and misfortunes that had been going on for some time. This prompted more cities to join the movement, until the rangers eventually lost all havens of refuge. Peace settled over the land, except wherever rangers were found, and so the people began to fear them. According to Wade, that fear remains very real even now, which explains why no one would seek to settle in these abandoned homes.
Once my bindings are removed, I begin taking off the rest of my disguise, but Wade stops me.
“Leave it on, the hood, too. It will make it easier to flee danger when night comes.”
“Are we expecting to have to run?” I look at Yori concerned.
“We should be expecting everything. Who know why they really let us in? There’s little time to waste, and we should assume the worst. We must get to Mavyn. I’ll check to see if she’s still in the city, and where we need to go to find her.”
He pauses and then looks over at Yori, “Keep her safe. No matter what happens, don’t come after me.”
Yori nods, and Wade begins walking out the way we came before turning around and glancing at us one more time. At that instant, an old fear enters my heart. I remember back in the canyons before Sanctuary, when Wade was suddenly gone, how I had wished for him to leave only to regret that desire the moment he was out of my sight. I feel that regret again as he steps briskly down a narrow corridor and beyond view.
I stare off that direction for a long moment, long enough that Yori eventually has to snap me out of my gaze.
“He’ll be okay. I would always wonder if it was my last time seeing him whenever he disappeared, but he never failed to make it back. This time will be no different.”
He then puts his arm around my shoulder and walks me toward a shaded corner where a table and some chairs have been collecting dirt and dust. He brushes one seat off for me and then plops down into another without wiping it clean.
“How are we ever going to do this?” I ask after a brief silence.
“Do what, exactly?” he says probing, like he has the answer but wants me to figure things out for myself.
“I don’t even know,” I frustrate. “What good can we possibly accomplish in this place? Your people were hunted down, and mine have likely fallen into darkness under my brooding sister. This place just seems like a hopeless, maddening whirlwind.”
I appreciate that Yori doesn’t respond at first, though he gives me an encouraging smile. He probably has a response, but he always waits for it, really thinks about what I’ve said. There’s something about someone who truly listens, whose heart is right there in front of you, that makes more of a difference than words can say, and Yori is that kind of person. It brings me the warmth of hope that he must somehow feel.
“It’s hard to imagine now the many years ago when I was a child,” he says with a light chuckle, his eyes toward the fading light in the sky above us. “I was quite troubled. My mind was always racing, but my heart was always hurting. The doctors called it melancholy, a sort of emotional firestorm in my body.
“Some days were harder than others, but my mother always sensed them coming. She was a very compassionate person. Wherever pain was, she seemed to find it, as though it was her purpose in life to put it out like a blazing fire wherever it took root. Like the waters of the sea swallowing a volcano.
“When I felt these hurtful feelings, it seemed like there was no hope, no way of overcoming them. Each time, I would fear that the sadness would be staying for good. Whenever I expressed that fear to her, she’d always reply, ‘No matter how far the sea goes in any direction, there is always a shore on the other end and a vessel strong enough to carry you.’
“That stuck with me. I enjoyed puzzles, but I never looked at what I was going through as problem that needed solving. Rather, it was as a storm that needed enduring. But the boat my mom would speak of wasn’t just withstanding the tempests of life. It had a destination in mind, and so did I.
“Such a simple idea gave me the strength to always look at how I could keep moving forward. That’s why I’ve been trying to clear the marshes, to find a new hope, a new vessel and shore. But in the past few weeks, I’ve become convinced that what you carry with you might be an even greater hope, and that the girl carrying it could be the only person courageous enough to bear that hope all the way to its distant shore.”
These profound words really move me, and I can’t think of anything to say back. It has felt as though the glimmering hope within me has been fading slowly with the passing of time, but in this moment I can feel it again like a burst of light pushing through storm clouds. I hope I’ll be able to hold onto it. I hope I can become the person Yori sees in me.
The conversation becomes lighter after that, which I’m grateful for since more warm sentiments might have brought my fragile state to tears. Yori tells more stories from his childhood, things he probably hasn’t talked about in ages. He seems to get lost in them as the sky becomes completely dark, the flicker of distant torches our only source of light.
Night doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. The blackness is still unnerving when compared to the stars and constellations of my childhood, but it is no longer a terrible thing for me to sit in a complete void and converse like it’s the middle of day.
My mind wanders to Wade occasionally, but I try to ignore the thought and focus back on Yori. He doesn’t bring Wade up either, or what we will need to do next, and I wonder if it’s so that I don’t worry. Wade told us not to come after him, so there’s nothing to do but wait. That is until we hear a soft, tapping echo across the square and immediately go silent.
I feel an icy shiver on my skin as Yori slowly gets up and begins walking with soft, crouched steps over to the trees, his hand hovering over his gun. I try to follow him, but he motions back with open palm to get me to stop. He then becomes perfectly still, scanning in every direction before waving at me to come stand by him next to the little grove.
“There is a hollow at the base of the centermost tree covered in grass,” he whispers, pointing toward the center of the grove as though he wants me to go there now. “If you step down into it, there is a grate that opens into the lower canals.”
“You’re coming with me, right?” I ask, the thought of being left alone terrifying me enough to consider disregarding his instructions and staying by his side.
“I will soon, but we won’t make it far if we’re being followed. Just wait for me, I won’t be long.”
The look I give begs him to not go, but it is too dark for him to see the panic behind my eyes. Something must have happened to Wade, otherwise he’d be back by now, and I have it set in my mind that if Yori leaves my sight, I’ll lose him, too. I’m not ready for that yet.
“Kaela, you can do this,” he says, placing his hand firmly on my shoulder, his long fingers squeezing me tightly.
I nod. I’ve found it’s the only way I can communicate when I feel so shaky. I then take a deep breath and do as he says, at least partially. Once I get to the tree and fi
He stops and looks back for a moment. I’m not sure if he can see me. A torch beyond where he stands faintly illuminates his frame, but is likely too weak to light my watchful eyes. I want him to come back over. There is nothing there. We need to leave now and figure out how to get to Mavyn ourselves.
I’m just about to call out to him and tell him that, but then another loud click echoes behind him, and his head jerks that way. He moves quickly toward its source around a corner and disappears from my view. I stare anxiously, my heart pounding, my panic so real that I forget to breathe. Minutes pass, and he doesn’t come back, nor can I hear his footsteps. I become hopeless and petrified, left wondering where I could even run or what I should do without his or Wade’s guidance.
“Pssss,” a quiet whisper sounds from the trees behind me.
I turn sharply and, not seeing anyone, creep warily toward the hollow, where the faint voice hisses again.
“Pssss.”
As my eyes readjust to the darkness, I notice the silhouette of someone crawling up out of the hole, causing me to stumble back and reach into my cloak where my own gun is hidden.
“Kaela, I’m not here to hurt you,” the person speaks quietly, in a voice