Susan Kim - Wanderers

“You were wise to leave that one alone,” Skar said. Her voice was unusually somber. “There is nothing more dangerous than a mother. If you attempt to kill one, you must do it in a single stroke, without hesitation. Otherwise, she will take advantage of your doubt and kill you instead.”

There was a pause. Then, her lecture over, Skar smiled. “It’s so good to see you, Esther.”

Yet when Esther tried to hug her, Skar flinched and drew back. At first, Esther was puzzled, then hurt, as a familiar wave of sadness washed over her.

The two girls had been best friends since early childhood, their relationship flourishing in spite of the tension between their two communities. It was a tremendous relief to both when the variants and the “norms” had reached a sort of truce in the past few months. Real distance between them had only come about recently, seemingly overnight, and for reasons more personal than either could have anticipated.

It happened when both girls became partnered.

It was to be expected, Esther now thought with a pang. After all, they weren’t children anymore; she and Skar were both well into their middle years, fifteen, and so they had both chosen mates. Life wasn’t meant to be the same after you were partnered.

Or was it?

After partnering with Caleb, Esther felt the same as ever, only stronger and happier. The love she felt for Caleb was still new and remarkable, constantly astonishing her with its depth and power. Beyond that, nothing had changed; she was still the person she had always been.

It was Skar who seemed different, who had become remote and formal after partnering with Tarq. It was she who had broken off the relationship with Esther, without warning, and who until now had avoided her oldest friend.

Esther shook off her misgivings. Skar was here and there was no telling when the two would see each other again. It seemed foolish to waste any of their precious time together on hurt feelings. Instead, she clasped Skar by the hands.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

Although Skar squeezed her hands back, there was again a slight awkwardness, something unspoken that confused Esther. While the variant girl seemed happy to see her, there was an odd restraint to her manner, a formality that seemed strange compared to her usual affectionate behavior. But as they walked through the familiar and desolate streets, Skar began to relax and soon seemed more like her old self.

The two talked of family and friends, and of the terrible famine that was gripping the area. The shortage was even starting to affect even the variants, who had never before needed to rely solely on hunting for food. The situation had grown so dire that Skar’s partner, Tarq, had even allowed her to leave the variant camp that morning in search of game. On an impulse, she had decided instead to visit Prin.

As Skar talked, Esther noticed something odd. Skar, like all variants, wore nothing but a short, sleeveless tunic. Other than a few bangles, wristwatches, and a necklace made of braided leather, her ornamentation consisted of the elaborate scars and designs etched on her skin with pigments pounded from rocks and rubbed into fresh cuts. But now, there was something different about her throat and upper arms. They were heavily daubed with what looked like dried and cracking patches of red clay.

“What’s that?” Esther interrupted, reaching out.

But again Skar flinched, ducking away before Esther could touch her.

“It’s nothing.” Then she changed the subject. “Here,” she said, nodding at the weapon Esther still held in her hand; “you need help with that. If you like, I can teach you how to shoot better.”

The girls spent the afternoon practicing how to aim, draw, and release the bow. For a target, they used a sodden and stained mattress they found in the gutter. It was soft enough not to blunt the tips of Esther’s precious arrows, which they retrieved and wiped off after each use. Then Skar took her into the woods and taught her how to identify rabbit warrens and squirrel nests and opossum scat.

“If you’re hunting something,” she explained, “it’s usually better to lie in wait than to try chasing it down.”

By the time the sun was low in the winter sky, Skar had managed to shoot three quail and a rabbit. She took her time aiming the shiny black bow that was half as tall as she was, never wasting any of her arrows. After many failed attempts, Esther also managed to kill one squirrel, something that felt at the moment like an enormous achievement. Yet now, as she weighed the small body in her hands and imagined attempting to feed four people with it, she was filled with a feeling of utter hopelessness.

Skar must have thought the same thing, for without speaking, she handed over the two fattest birds. And while Esther normally would have refused such charity, she now bit her tongue and accepted them, nodding her thanks.

As the two girls said good-bye, Skar promised she would try to visit again soon. Yet despite her generous gift and warm words, the variant girl once more kept her distance, avoiding Esther’s embrace. This made Esther wonder whether Skar, who she once thought incapable of lying, was telling the truth. Such conflicting thoughts filled Esther’s mind as she watched Skar mount her bike and take off, pedaling powerfully until she disappeared from sight.

Esther was brooding about Skar when she sensed rather than heard someone approaching her from behind. Before she could whirl around, she felt a quick tug on the back of her hair, where it was the shortest and spikiest; and she broke into her first real laugh of the day.

“Hey!”

Caleb had pulled up next to her on his bicycle, smiling. He stopped so he could gather Esther into his arms for a kiss. Then she pulled away to look at him.

Even though they had been partnered for several months, it was astonishing how he still looked new to her, like she was seeing him for the first time. The hazel eyes, the dark, tousled hair. It was, she decided, a little like falling in love again each time she saw him, although she would never say so out aloud. Even so, she could not help but notice with a fresh pang his terrible gauntness, the shadows that hollowed his face and made the underlying bones protrude so painfully.

But he had already seen the game hanging from her belt and gave a low, admiring whistle. “You catch all those yourself?”

“Only the one,” Esther admitted, indicating the squirrel. “Skar came to visit and helped me with my shooting. Then she gave me these.”

Caleb nodded as he handled the birds. “She’s a good friend. I just hope it don’t get her into trouble at home.”

Esther didn’t ask how Caleb’s day of Gleaning had gone; she didn’t need to. His backpack seemed almost as flat as it had been that morning. Still, he had had some luck; he had Gleaned a dusty box that read DOMINO SUGAR on its faded label.

Gleaning was what they used to do, what everyone did in Prin, in the old days. It entailed breaking into abandoned buildings and searching them for anything even remotely of value. You would bring whatever you found—old tools and clothing, as well as books, weapons, and strange objects of plastic and metal whose purpose no one even pretended to know anymore—to the Source in exchange for clean water and food. It was the only way they knew how to feed themselves and the only sustenance they ever had: packets and jars of dried beans, flour, coffee, honey, salt. But the Source had burned to the ground two months ago. Since then, the people of Prin had been forced to Glean to feed themselves.

Of course, it was pointless. There was little to be found anywhere and most of that—the rare can of vegetables, soup, or fish—had long since rotted to poison. Everything in Prin, every house and office building and store, had been picked clean months ago. But the habit of Gleaning proved hard for people to break. It gave them the feeling, Esther thought, of doing something besides waiting for death.