Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) Read online

  I feel so lost. Maybe even a little broken. There’s this fear eating me up from the inside out that I’ll never leave this place. Maybe that’s why I’m blacking out. Maybe my mind is trying to protect me from the emotional trauma I’m on the verge of encountering.

  Please, Mother Nature. Please. Send someone to save me. Anyone.

  “What?” I whine, my hand reaching out to stop the foot digging hard into my side. I’m too weak to actually stop it so I’m grateful the foot’s owner stops on their own.

  “Would you please stop?” Willow. Her voice comes off as tired and whiney as mine.

  I groan, rolling from my stomach to my left side. “Stop what? You’re the one kicking me!”

  “You keep singing in your sleep.”

  Dumbfounded, my head rocks side to side. “I’m what? What am I singing?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, moaning the last word for dramatic effect. “By the sound of it, neither do you.” Her eyes close and her palms go up in the air and bounce with each word, “Please. Just. Stop.”

  I huff. “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”

  My right hand goes to my forehead as she makes her way back to her side of the pit. Even if I was singing, I’m surprised she heard it way over there. I stroke my eyebrows outward in. I release a heavy sigh and my arms fall lifelessly back to the ground.

  The sky is really dark so sunrise is still a ways off. As I lay there in the stillness of the night, tears make their way down my cheeks and splash to the parched earth beneath me. That’s funny; I didn’t even feel my eyes swell or the muscles around my eyes tighten. Come to think of it, I don’t feel my stomach processing my dinner or my feet aching either. I didn’t even feel the tension in my head, but I found it necessary to stroke my eyebrows absentmindedly. Am I really that out of it? I hope not. I don’t want to be here, to know what I know and see what I see, but I don’t want to become one of the lifeless pixies around me even more.

  But what if it’s something I can’t stop?

  Today was hard on my body. Really hard. My bowl of mash sits beside my sprawled out body, still full because I have no desire to touch it. There’s been a constant numbness in my forehead all day. Like I’m on the verge of a headache that never comes.

  A storm is coming; at least for the opposite side of the canyon. No matter what seems to happen over there, it never ever happens here. Rain never comes to quench the thirst of the land, wind never brings scents or pollens, animals never travel through, birds never nest. I can’t remember the scent of rain anymore. As much time as I spent atop the canopy of our Hollow, how can I possibly forget that? I remember it has earthy smells; I just can’t remember the exact scent or the taste of rain on my tongue.

  Gentle hands graze the side of my body.

  “Don’t give up on me, Rosalie.” It was a slow recognition but my head finally lifts toward Juniper. “Look deep within yourself. You’ll find the strength to see yourself through this.” I sigh, lift my upper body off the ground and place my chin atop my knees. She softly massages the back of my head, and although it feels good, my head feels heavier and groggier than ever. “Don’t allow yourself to fall into despair like the others.”

  I lay my head sideways on my arm and glance around at the others. They’re quiet, dazed. They almost seem numb. “Why not? Why can’t I just zone out and forget too?”

  “Because you’re stronger than that.”

  “I’m not that strong,” I mutter. “Definitely not compared to most of the pixies back home.”

  Juniper pulls her hand away – strange that I immediately feel a sense of loss – and sits down beside me. Her joints are stiff and her movement shaky, so she uses my shoulder to support herself to the ground. “I meant you’re strong of mind, strong-willed. I knew it the moment I learned you survived the additional day in the hole. You’re a fighter, Rosalie. A survivor. And I need you to stay that way. To step up and lead these pixies once I’m gone.”

  My neck snaps so fast I’m lucky it didn’t break. “What?” I ask a little too harshly.

  Juniper peers over the cliff and scans the world of life beneath us. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I almost forget at times that beauty still exists. Flowers still bloom, animals still play, trees still dance in the wind.” I look to the few straggly trees outlining our prison. Nothing moves here. It’s like we don’t exist so the wind doesn’t bother to come. Juniper sighs and spreads her lips outward. “Nature is a beautiful thing.”

  A wave of guilt overwhelms me. Here I am drowning in my own self-pity because my life has been stolen and turned upside down for a few weeks, when poor Juniper has been suffering here for more than a decade. I’m such a selfish brat.

  “How are you doing these days, Juniper?”

  Her mouth twitches and her eyes dart frequently at the distant landscape, not focusing on anything for more than a second. “I’m not a young pixie anymore. My body fades a little more each day.” She turns and her glistening eyes meet mine. At least something still sparkles naturally. “This is why I need you to be strong. You’ve seen these pixies. They need someone to lead and take care of them. Together I think you and Willow can do that.”

  “Willow!” I burst. I sense a few pixies hear and turn our way, but since Willow sleeps on the other side of the pit, I’m hopeful she’s deep enough in sleep to not hear. “She’s not going to work with me. She hates me.”

  “Willow’s hatred lies solely on the faeries and spriggans that keep us here. Try not to judge her too harshly. Her anger is how she deals with our situation. It’s what keeps her strong and moving forward. I’ll take that over defeat and submission any day.”

  Those last few words make me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I don’t mean to be submissive, it just creeps up on you.

  “Juniper, what was it like back home for you?”

  A weak smile curves her lips. “You know, no one’s asked me that in a long time.” She stares off across the canyon, and her lips twitch, as if she sees something that reminds her of home. “I came from Birch Hollow. They’re skinny little trees so we didn’t live within them like most Hollows. Instead we’d find a clump of several together and build a home between them using the trees for outer support. I imagine it wasn’t too unlike your tree house, Rosalie.”

  “I wouldn’t mind one of those right now.”

  “Me too,” she says, sighing. She grabs my bowl and holds it in the air before me. Reluctantly I take it, but I manage to slowly get it down while she talks. “My best friend was Mimosa. Mother Nature we were a handful growing up. Our families lived side by side and we did everything under the sun together. We ate together, pranked together, explored the forest and worked the same jobs together. We even pined over the same teenage pixies when we were older.”

  Juniper pauses and I turn to see her golden eyes begin to glisten. “But then…Mimosa fell ill when we were eighteen. The elders said it was a type of rare disease pixies sometimes got from an unknown source in the forest. A pollen maybe, or a fungus that grew on our food that wasn’t completely washed away. They really didn’t know. A few pixies overcame the disease, but Mimosa wasn’t one of them.” I feel pressure behind my eyes as tears began to fall from hers. “I was so distraught. There was this hole inside me that I was never able to fill again. My family was upset because they didn’t know what they could do for me. I moved out on my own, choosing not to take a mate. I just wanted to be left alone. I felt guilty about taking Mimosa throughout the forest exploring new things, because maybe that’s where she caught it. And I felt guilty for not getting sick too, and surviving in this world without her.”

  I look to her solemnly, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. “You think you deserve to be here, don’t you?” When she doesn’t answer, I know I’ve hit it on the mark. “Juniper, what happened to your friend wasn’t your fault. Pixies get sick. None of us deserve to be here. Being captured and thrown into this pit isn’t your punishment for not getting sick. Mimosa woul
dn’t want this for you. You have to know that.”

  The old pixie just shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be seeing her again soon enough.”

  It disturbs me the way she says that, and the way a smile creeps across her cheeks.

  “Don’t say that. You’re the strongest pixie I know. And these pixies need you. I need you.”

  “They only need comfort and guidance, Rosalie. You have a generous heart, and I hope you’ll be able to provide that for them when the time comes.”

  She rises, pushing down on my shoulder for support, then hobbles away. The night is beginning to really darken, but flashes of light over the horizon light up the pixies sleeping in the pit. They’re all such pitiful creatures these days, but I know their beauty still resides beneath their weather-worn, damaged skin. There has to be a way to get them out of here and back to the life they deserve.

  A collective gasp comes from two tables up. My brows furrow as I lean into the walkway, expecting to see a spriggan coming down the line before scheduled. But what I see is the frail form of a pixie crumpled up on the floor. I gasp and rush towards her, just as the pixies surrounding her fall back into work mode. Their lack of action still surprises me, even though I know most lack the emotion to respond appropriately. But still. How could they be so flippin’ heartless? One pixie continues to look on, her face filled with longing, as if she envies the pixie on the floor.

  I gasp again, this time with a force so strong my lungs feel the urge to burst. Oh no-no-no-no-no!

  Even in darkness, the flickering flames on the tables light up something very familiar: dark hair wrapped in a tight bun at the crown of her head, silvery streaks trying to gleam. The weight of my body crashes on my knees and the burn tells me I’ve scuffed some of the skin off. I feel the heat radiating off her skin as I pull to cradle Juniper in my arms. But as hot as the cave is, the heat feels worse than it should be. It seeps into my skin, almost burning me.

  “Water!” I yell. “Someone get the bucket!” No one directly around me moves but I pray to Mother Nature that one of the lucid pixies in this cave obliges.

  The heat steams the lining of my throat with each breath. I know Juniper feels it too as her breaths become deep and almost painful, her body collapsing in my arms with each exhalation. She looks up to me in a daze, her eyes glazed over. I wonder if she even knows it’s me holding her. Or if she can hear me.

  “It’ll be okay, Juniper,” I say, rocking her gently back and forth. “It’ll be okay.”

  A bucket scrapes the ground beside me. I catch a blur of violet with the next passing flicker of light. Light blue hands immediately wash the sweat that swims down Juniper’s face and neck. Sudden coughing makes us both freeze and look to the entrance. A spriggan makes his way towards us, long before scheduled, and I realize what an idiot I was to call out for help. Willow would have helped me regardless.

  “Drop her,” Willow insists as she pulls out of sight.

  Flabbergasted, I snap, “What?” She’s got to be kidding!

  “Drop her!” she hisses. She pulls on my shoulders. My body leans back but I refuse to budge my grip on Juniper.

  I’m engulfed by light as the spriggan nears me. Willow no longer urges me to abandon her and backs away. The noise of hands thumping on tables increases as the pixies around me fearfully work harder. My heart speeds tenfold, now realizing the situation I’ve put myself in. This spriggan seems lumpier than the others, with really extensive brow bones that shadow his eye cavities and make him seem even more menacing than normal. He leans the lantern in for a closer look and cocks his head. His pause is frightening, and I feel the tremble as it spreads through my limbs.

  I take a quick breath, trying to find the courage to smooth the fear from my voice. “Please,” I plea, my voice cracking. “She just needs food and some salve for the fever and she’ll be well again.”

  He watches me intently for a moment, debating what to do. The lantern is set on the floor and he leans toward her face until he’s close enough...to sniff her? What the heck? Dumbfounded, my jaw slackens and I’m left speechless over how to respond. He swirls his head around and inhales a long, deep breath through his nose. He follows it up with three more sniffs in short bursts. He suddenly winces, as if he inhales something foul. In one quick movement, one hand pushes me back by the shoulder as the other rips Juniper from my grasp. The jolt is enough to throw me off my balance and roll me backwards until I’m on my bum on the floor. The spriggan snags his lantern and holds Juniper awkwardly in his arm as he turns away.

  “No! Wait!” I yell. “Please!” I struggle against the weight of someone grasping my arms behind me, holding me down on the floor. The spriggan ignores me and continues on his way, bouncing Juniper so roughly I hope she’s unconscious. “Stop!” I plea one last time.

  Once they’re gone from sight, my arms are released. Anger boils within me. Jumping to my feet, I abruptly turn and shove Willow back, releasing my fury with each question I scream at her. “Where’d they take her? What the heck is wrong with you! Why didn’t you help me?” The questions fly off me in one breath. “I can’t believe you would just let them take her! She’s like a mother to me! What are they going to do to her? Answer me!”

  “I would if you’d shut it already!” She slaps my arms down as they thrust forward to shove her again. “You can’t help her right now! And Juniper wouldn’t want you to get thrown back in the hole for her. Not when she’s…”

  “Not when she’s what?” I holler, a little tiffed that she stops mid-sentence and leaves me hanging. The anger twitching in her muscles softens. She doesn’t answer me verbally, but her eyes fill with grief and she looks at me solemnly. “What?” I ask quietly, meekly, fearing the answer I know is coming my way.

  “Come on, Rosalie,” Willow says softly. “You know she’s fading. Fast. It’s why she’s been pushing you to step up and be a leader. She needs a replacement.”

  I think I knew this. No, I definitely knew this. Pictures reel through my mind: Juniper shuffling along slowly around the pit, her emaciated body shrinking daily, her overall demeanor growing weaker. I just didn’t want to see it. Really see it. I mean, she has to still be in her thirties. Back home in the Hollow pixies live well into their sixties. As exhausted as Juniper is, I always figured she’d get through this. Because she was – I mean, is – young. She can’t be dying.

  Not yet. Not when for the first time in my life I feel like I have someone that really cares about me. Someone that’s been like a mother to me...or I guess what I assume a mother would be. Because I never really had that. No pixie ever gave me this kind of personal attention. And I like that. I savor it. Crave it.

  She can’t leave me now.

  Willow turns and walks back to our station. She seems as dispirited as I feel, which is a far cry from the emotions the majority of the other pixies are exuding right now, which is practically nothing. How can they be so far gone that none of them pay any attention to a fallen pixie? I’m left to ponder their lack of sensation for the rest of my shift. I’m not sure if I actually do anything or not, but my body stays hunched over the table. I certainly don’t remember doing anything. I’m nothing but a mindless blur.

  As we trek back to the pit, I wonder what they did with Juniper. Is she back at the pit? Did they help her any? I gulp – was she thrown in the hole to die alone? My answer comes as I break the glamour’s barrier and see her lying helplessly on the pit floor. Several pixies were deposited before me but none have gone to aid her. Flippin’ lifeless pixies.

  I rush to her side and gently roll her sideways. Her dark red skin is inflamed, flushed with heat and burned from the first real sun exposure she’s seen in more than a decade. Her eyes are closed but her chest rises and falls steadily. “Juniper?” I ask softly.

  Nothing.

  I hear thumping reverberating in the ground near me. Willow is suddenly beside me, caressing Juniper’s face in a way that’s almost an examination.

  “Juniper!” She
shakes her gently at first, then more forcefully. “Juniper! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

  Still nothing. Willow sighs and lays her back on the ground. She turns to gaze at the meandering pixies and shakes her head. “It’s a wonder they can even remember to shower every night.”

  It’s their routine. Get up, eat, work, eat, shower, go to bed. Over and over and over again. Back home, on mornings when I was really sleepy, I found myself traveling from my tree house to the Hollow’s center without even realizing. One minute I was in the tree house, the next I was in the village. Sort of like auto-flight. My mind knew what to do and how to get me there, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember any part of it. I know it’s what these pixies do every day because I’ve done it a few days myself. Their minds are protecting them from the horrors around us because they don’t know how to deal with it.

  Willow rises slowly, releasing a sigh along the way. “Watch over her. I’m going to make sure the rest of them get some food and water in them.” I nod my head silently and my eyes follow her over to Holly, who’s already working on tonight’s dinner.

  Gee. Maybe we’ll have some fruit and seeds tonight. I almost gag at the thought. Once upon a time I liked them, but that’s when I was free to collect what I wanted, when I wanted. I wonder if the lack of variety in our food is done on purpose. One more simple joy they can take away from us. Flippin’ faeries.

  I want to feed Juniper her mash and get some type of nourishment in her, but she just won’t wake. All I can do is keep cool, wet scraps of clothing atop her skin in hopes it’ll cool her down a bit. It scares me how much heat is radiating off her body, even after the sun goes down. I pull her against me in a futile attempt to transfer some of her heat to me.

  It’s not easy to fall asleep. My emotions rip me in multiple directions. Anxiety eats at the lining in my stomach, making me feel really queasy, and makes it impossible for my right foot to stop bouncing. Fear is the worst. Hearing the rasp in Juniper’s chest tells me she’s having difficulty breathing. I’m deathly afraid she’ll never wake again. I lay on my side with Juniper in my arms, letting the dancing stars distract me until I drift off into unconsciousness.