Page 29 of Famine

Eager to leave … ? Withme?

Surely he’s not serious?

I give him a wild look. “What are you talking about?”

“Get your things,” he says again, gesturing down what’s left of the street.

I follow where he’s pointing. There’s nothing even lefttogather. My entire town is nothing but rubble.

Another low moan escapes my throat. My cousins are gone. So is my aunt.

I feel a tear escape, then another. There will be no beating or disownment awaiting my return because my aunt isn’t alive to deliver any of it. The thought breaks something inside of me. She always disliked me; she’d look at me like she saw something no one else did. Something bad. I suddenly feel like her disgust towards me was merited.

My carelessness killed my entire town.

“I’m not going with you,” I whisper, still staring out at the destruction. Reality is beginning to sink in. I’m not sure I ever wanted to be melessthan I do right now.

“Of course you are,” Famine says.

“You justmurdered”—my voice breaks—“the only family I have.”

He gives me a curious look. “They should have saved me. They didn’t.”

“Theydidn’t know.” At leastIdidn’t know—and I couldn’t possibly have been the only person in this town to not know.

Nearby, Famine’s horse whinnies. Guess that fucker survived the wreckage too. Bet he’s a dick, just like his rider.

“Grab your things,” the horseman repeats.

“I’m not going with you,” I say again, this time more resolute.

He exhales, clearly impatient with me. “There’s nothingleftfor you here.”

My body is beginning to shake. I pinch my eyes shut, willing away the last few minutes.

I hear the horseman take a step towards me. My eyes snap open and I shrink back. “Stay away from me,” I say.

He frowns. “You showed me kindness when I’d all but forgotten it existed. I won’t harm you, flower,” he says, his voice soft. “But now you must get up. I have lingered in these parts for far too long.”

More tears are coming; they silently drip down my cheeks. “This is all my fault,” I say, taking in my surroundings. Everything is so still.

“They were always going to die,” Famine says, his expression turning stony. “I would’ve torn this town apart even if you had never cared for me.”

I think that’s supposed to make me feel better. It doesn’t.

“Now,” he says, a note of steel entering his voice. “Get.Up.”

Getting up means dealing with this situation. I’m most definitelynotready for that. I wrap my arms around myself instead.

The horseman steps in close, placing a warm palm against my shoulder. Instinctively, I flinch away.

“Don’t touch me.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.

My eyes fall to the basket that’s rolled meters away, and regret sits heavy in my stomach.

Near my basket a thorny bush begins to grow, rising higher by the second. Leaves unfurl, the plant fills out, and from it blooms a delicate lavender-grey rose.

Famine plucks the flower from the bush and hands it to me, thorns and all.