“I’ve been thinking,” she said, tossing her hair back, though the wind immediately flung it across her cheeks. “I think that after we are done with Gardenia Isle, I should go back to Evird.”
Aric warped to face her, his eyes aghast. He’d been talking to a person who seemed to know no regret. “And what for?”
“Honesty. They are entitled to their perception of me, but I’ve built it for them, as they built that of myself. I am the rebellious child. I escaped like a coward; with my two legs and a hatbox. I’ve never shown disinterest in their arrangements. I took the easy path in pretending to be their perfect child, knowing I wouldn’t witness their hurt and anger after I’m liberated. That too. I am not liberated. I’m hiding. I need not their permission, yet at least their awareness. I want to be proud of who I am.”
Aric sighed a breath of relief and again took recreation in her display of emotion. He thought her cold at first glance, but how her conviction escalated. With every thought came an inflection. At times, it was aggravation for herself, then the shedding of an ego, then a brave resolution.
“I’ll take you back to Evird.”
“You would? But you don’t have to.” She raised a finger.
His shoulders raised and fell as he cackled. “That was the original plan. I wouldn’t have left you stranded on Gardenia after collecting the bounty.”
“I suppose so.” She lowered her finger, and let her hand fall beside her loosely.
“Once you are back to Evird; will you stay?” he asked, not the slight mirth in his tone anymore.
“I want to be honest, not a doormat.”
With that, he looked down, his lip corners pinching up.
“I thought so. And do you also know where you’ll go after?”
“No,” she answered calmly. No time would be enough. No answer would appear out of thin air. Even liberation took more than deliberation. “That was my original plan too. Though because it is much easier to leave town when you’re not running like a thief, I don’t reckon I’ll find plight there.”
He eyed her with round eyes, an idea churning behind them. “Perhaps we should return to Evird, then make way to Gardenia. They could wait half a day or a few days more; whilst your parents might turn entirely deranged by the time you return. You may get away with pinning your absence on last night’s commotion. Then you’ll be entirely free, as you wished.”
She handed him a weak smile, but had to shake her head.
“No. I’ve made a mistake, and I won’t pretend a second time that I didn’t. I’ll face their larger than life wrath after I fulfill my responsibility. Even if you say otherwise, I owe you and Gardenia this much.”
“You’re quite the professional, aren’t you?” he jested. “Very well. I’ve no say in your choice. We’ll anchor in Gardenia fairly soon, then I’m sure it’ll be a breeze for you to win us that sack of money.”
“I sure hope so,” she blew out.
Trepidation for her aptitude tugged at from everywhere. A plague affecting an entire Isle was unlike the puny, isolated cases she’d been given in Evird. What if she hadn’t honed her talent sufficiently? What if the problem wasn’t poison? What if she fell flat, and she’d go back home to stay—and settle? Because why would she venture past her hometown when her talent had not been a talent after all?
She stared at Aric, wondering how his face would look when she told him she was no good. That he wouldn’t get his bounty, and he had only wasted time and travel. How he’d be kind enough to hide his disappointment, but express regress behind closed doors.
There was no time for imagining the worst. That was to be left behind, like home, like parents.
“How far are we?”
“Not very far. In fact, we’ll be there before that turtle shaped cloud,” he pointed above, “reaches the sun.”
The cloud was in their field of vision whilst the sun was on the exact opposite; heating their backs. Avalon trailed the eventual path of it with her gaze, her feet shifting duly.
“See? Not far.”
“Not far,” she drawled, her mind and eyes in a blur from having stared at the sun.
---
“Shame I don’t have a photograph of what Gardenia used to look like. The isle’s reduced to a graveyard. You’ll find it’s still adorned with greens, but much of it has dried and is attached by ribbon in place of roots.”
“These hills…they’re dastardly,” she said, resisting a gulp.
“They are,” Aric hadn’t needed to look. He’d run around attaching the lines to the dock, while Avalon clung to the rails, as though she did not want to step down. The grass was not greener on the other side.
Tall hills shielded the isle. They were barren, save for a flight of stone stairs cutting through right in the middle where petals scattered on every step. Spring and fall collided; as colours were bright and faded—with life and without. Despite its aesthetic, it could not salvage what Aric accurately described as a graveyard.
“And what is that stench?” she asked coolly, still dazed with how a place could look so sombre in broad daylight.
“Manure. An unbelievable amount of it. They’re trying their best; don’t loathe them too much for it.”
“I’m just fascinated is all,” she replied, her eyes sweeping all piece by piece. The land was balding; with no more than a dried sprout of grass per square. It was frightful to think life existed behind these hills. That they were mere curtains for the stage.
She leaned away from the rails with the strength of a deep inhale. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Well, I’ve already tied both stern line and bow line, and rigged the spring lines from the bow to the stern. There isn’t much else to do. I’ve done this hundreds of times; don’t mind me,” he said, keeping a taut expression—but his chest was heaving.
She ousted her hands to the back, her fingers locking tightly. It struck her that she didn’t notice he’d been running around securing the boat.
“Did you also drop the anchor?”
“I did.” He nodded.
“Were you waiting for me?”
He stood on the dock, hands resting on his hips. “Not necessarily.” He reached the plank. “I was observing, as you were. Tell me.” He extended her a hand. “Is there a possibility in which you placed a hand on these hills and unearthed the cause of this destruction? We could collect the bounty and return to the sea without having to pace around the isle.” He grimaced.
Her gaze slid down to his hand, then up to nowhere in particular. Without sight of her path, she easily placed a hand on his—for support—and walked down.
Aric looked down, his eyes following the cadence of her steps. “I love travelling, and Gardenia Isle, but its current state makes my skin crawl,” he admitted. “Let alone this foul odour attacking our noses. See, I don’t understand how you’re not pinching your nose, and how you’re so calm. Or maybe you’re contemplative. Either way, you’ll see and smell that it’s worse beyond the stairs.”
She smirked. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to loathe them too much for it?”
“I did,” he coughed. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t loathe the smell…and the feeling that this landscape evokes in me.”
“I think there’s an odd charm to this landscape—but I’ll try. I’m in a hurry myself; somehow.”
She drew back her hand—having reached the ground. Aric chafed his hand across the edges of the plank and slid it back onto the boat.
“Do you feel something already?” he asked.
Her face tensed. “No. It feels as dead as it looks. Hence, I fear these hills will not be our pot of gold.” She walked to the stone stairs and crouched on the bottom one.
Aric winced when he saw her place a hand on the dirt. That dirt was as filthy as it reeked, and she’d pressed on it heartily. She closed her eyes, and he stood silent. He wondered what went on beyond those eyes. Were there colours dancing in the pitch darkness? Lines forming? Ambiguous shapes? Or could she hear voices? A heartbeat—or the lack of one? What would she be looking for in the dark?
Avalon opened her eyes in direction of Aric and shook her head. “I don’t feel anything from this ground. No poison or any sign of life. It’s sterile beyond repair.”
“Well then, we roll. I'm sure we'll find one old tree that’s still kicking. Then, we're off.”
“I feel useless already,” she sighed. “I've handled the dead before, and it worked. I sourced poison from a dead body before. This... This is frustrating.”
He joined her and offered her support to stand—she feigned a smile and sprang up alone.
“Now, now, don't beat yourself up, Ava. Human bodies are much smaller than hills—they're also not contaminated by manure. And what do you mean you handled the dead before?” He flexed a brow.
She retreated to a higher step. “First, don't call me Ava.” And another step. “Second, it's a manner of speech. I haven't done a thing beyond laying a hand on them.”
“I’m not sure this manner of speech is any better.”
“Let us find that tree before it stops kicking.” She huffed up the stairs, not quite knowing where to put her soiled hand. It hovered at her side, careful not to smear her crimson dress.
“I have this odd feeling that I’ll be the one who stops kicking if I keep aggravating you.”
“There’s a brain in there after all.”
He laughed running up the stairs; but his sound was cut short when Avalon stilled in front of him.
He’d stopped a hair away from her. “What is it?”
“There’s a man walking to us,” she hushed. “With a flinty gaze.”
“As expected, we’re not welcome here. Especially me, since, I’ve come back. Perhaps they fear I’ve come to settle—with my spouse.”
“Don’t you dare pretend you did,” she quipped. Her gaze turned flintier than the man’s. “We’ll be honest.”
“We’ll be honest,” he repeated, amused—though he stifled it. “But see, he’s looked away already.” He pointed at the man who turned left.
“His eyes were so harsh, yet so lifeless,” she said, her voice breathy.
“Were you not the one who said she couldn’t muster sympathy for the natives?”
“I’m merely stating what I saw.”
“You’ll be seeing more of this. For your own sake, it’s better to avoid their eyes.”
“You seem to be quite fond of avoiding. By now, you’d have learned that I am not.”
He walked ahead of her and looked her straight in the eye, mischief written in his box of intention. “What changed? Was my boat a sort of portal for you, supernatural freak? Because up until that breakthrough, you, majesty, were the queen of avoidance.”
Avalon bit her cheek. “Alright, it was unfair to assume you’d have me figured out when I’m only finding myself. As for your boat, a portal is close to what I felt it to be. I’d been the product of my circumstances, and that, I am still…as long as I run from their imminent showing. I had to leave to understand this truth. Now, I must return to bury it.”