Titolo: The Defiance
Autore: A.G. Henley
Genere: Young Adult distopico
Trama: Suspicion Trust. Fear Hate Love.
It hasn’t been long since Fennel, a Sightless Groundling, and Peree, her Lofty Keeper, fell in love and learned the truth: the Scourge, and their world, are not what they seem.
Fenn and Peree are determined to guide their people to the protected village of Koolkuna, but first they must convince them that everything they believe is a lie. An impossible task, especially when someone seems hell-bent on trying anything—even animal sacrifice and arson—to destroy the couple’s new bond and crush the frail truce between the Groundlings and the Lofties. Not everyone wants to uproot their lives in the forest, and those who stay behind will be left terribly vulnerable.
Fenn and Peree’s resolve to be together, and the constant threat of the Scourge’s return, push both groups to the breaking point. Unable to tell friend from foe, Fenn must again decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to ensure the future of the people of the forest.
Only this time, the price of peace may be too high to bear.
A.G. Henley is the author of the BRILLIANT DARKNESS series. The first novel in the series, THE SCOURGE, was a finalist for the 2013 Next Generation Indie Book Award.A.G. is also a clinical psychologist, which means people either tell her their life stories on airplanes, or avoid her at parties when they’ve had too much to drink. Neither of which she minds. When she’s not writing fiction or shrinking heads, she can be found herding her children and their scruffy dog, Guapo, to various activities while trying to remember whatever she’s inevitably forgotten to tell her husband. She lives in Denver, Colorado.
#1
Only the odd snore rumbles from the other
shelters as I crack the door open and slide out. The forest isn’t so quiet.
Crickets hum hypnotically, leaves shift and sigh in the breeze, and frogs and
bats keep the time with their cries. If the greenheart trees offer the forest
its scent and flavor, then its animal inhabitants provide the tune.
I slink like prey from dark spot to dark
spot, minding the sound of my steps. There’s probably a Groundling guard
somewhere. The moon illuminates the path, so I walk under the shade of the tree
branches. There’s a luster ahead.
For a long time I thought the water hole
glowed. Calli finally told me the moon—which I’ve heard can be as slim as a
curled-up leaf or as spherical as a stone—reflects in the water hole below. It
seems unfair, somehow. The sighted see not only the fickle moon, they see two.
The water sweeps softly onto the shore,
then recedes, dancing with itself, careless who hears it. I hold under the
cover of the forest, soaking in the sounds and scents of the night.
After a few minutes, I hear more
deliberate movements in the treetops: the low thump of quiet footsteps along
the walkway overhead. They stop above my head. A soft birdcall greets me. I
wave, letting them know it’s safe.
The rope ladder dives toward me, bumping
against the tree trunk as it falls, and I steady it as Peree descends. My heart
pulses in my chest as he draws near. I feel like I’ve stolen these moments with
him, moments we’ll have to eventually give back. I don’t want to steal time
with him. I want it to be ours to keep.
#2
The morning passes quickly. There was
more wood to move into the storeroom in the caves this morning, new stores of
salt meat and dried beans to deliver, and our herbalist, Marjoram, told me she
has some poultices and teas she wants me to bring in. Marj was underprepared
for the accidents and illnesses resulting from such a long confinement last
time. She won’t make the same mistake again.
There’s plenty of space in the
storeroom—it was almost empty by the time we left the caves after the
Reckoning. It’s an easy job to stow the supplies neatly along the natural stone
shelves. My stomach rumbles, anticipating a midday meal, as I cross the cavern
to the storeroom carrying the second-to-last load of wood. Even the lingering
stench of crampberries doesn’t deter my appetite.
“Fennel.” The word whispers across
the cave.
I freeze. “Who’s there?”
“Stay away from the Lofty.
Groundlings and Lofties aren’t meant to be together. You’ve been warned.”
I can’t tell anything about the
speaker—man, woman, their age. But quiet as the person’s words are, it’s hard
to miss the implied threat. I drop most of the wood, keeping one thick log as a
potential weapon. The person is between the passage out and me.
I hold the log firmly in front of
me, trying to tame my wild breathing so I can hear. Fear strangles my thoughts.
An indefinable amount of time passes. Finally wrestling the courage to move, I
step forward, keeping the log at the ready.
And I cough.
The air is wrong, and not simply
human-waste wrong. Something else. There’s light where there shouldn’t be, and
. . . smoke. That’s what I’m tasting and smelling.
There’s a fire in the passageway, and it’s
blocking my way out. Terror doesn’t steal through me. It rips my head off.
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento