Rae Carson - The Shattered Mountain

The clouds are beginning to break and the sun is low on the horizon when Mara spots a large overhang of layered sandstone. The ground beneath is not entirely dry, but it’s flat and littered with deadfall that has been trapped there by the wind. Some of it might be dry enough for a fire.

She sets the children to work collecting wood while she and Adán quickly line a pit. Within an hour, they are crowded around a cheery fire. Several peel off outer clothing layers and drape them on nearby rocks to dry. As the sun edges behind the shattered peak, Mara finds a bit of gladness inside herself, for they are nearly to the bottom of the mountain and will soon move into the desert.

Her flour sack is soaked, and the remaining flour will turn moldy and useless for baking, so she scoops out a bunch of the sticky stuff and stirs it into a potful of boiling water. At least water is no longer in short supply.

She adds bits of bacon and a few of her precious spices. The result is disgusting—more paste than soup, with a gritty texture that sticks in her teeth. But it’s nourishing, and even though the children wince and swallow quickly, they don’t complain. Everyone goes to sleep without the empty ache of hunger.

They wake to morning sun and screaming.

Mara launches upward, reaching for her bow and seeking the source of danger even before her mind is fully awake. Deep in the overhang, pressed against the sandstone wall, little Hando sobs, clutching his right arm to his stomach.

Rosa stands beside him, looking down in horror. She’s the one who is screaming.

“What is it?” Mara demands. “What’s wro—”

Something behind Hando moves. No, writhes. Several somethings. Twisting and sliding and . . .

Vipers.

“Be very, very still,” she says, though she knows it’s too late for him. “Everyone else get back. Now!”

As they hasten to comply, something black and hot clouds Mara’s vision. She led them here. She made them take shelter beside a vipers’ nest. She should have scouted the site thoroughly before bedding down.

Mara creeps toward Hando, who is as still as a stone though tears leak from his pleading eyes. “That’s it, Hando. You’re doing fine.” Behind him, the vipers mix and tumble like giant worms. She hears the hiss of a rattle.

“I’m going to reach down and snatch you up,” she says. “Ready?”

He nods.

Before her pounding heart can become paralyzing terror, she grabs his arms and yanks him backward. His feet drag as she darts from the overhang into a clear blue day.

They need to get farther away. Snakes can move with astonishing speed if they want to. But she only has moments left to save Hando. She compromises, dragging him only a few steps more.

“Show me the bite,” she orders. “Everyone else, keep an eye on those snakes! Grab some rocks in case they move toward us.”

Hando pushes up his sleeve, revealing a red, swollen spot with two tiny puncture marks just below the elbow. A small snake, then. Maybe he didn’t take much venom.

She grabs her knife from her belt, unsheathes it. “This is going to hurt, but I have to do it now. Understand?”

He nods, lower lip quivering.

Hando hisses as she sweeps her blade across the bite. The skin parts, and blood wells. She gives a quick thought to possible cavities in her teeth but decides it doesn’t matter; her larger body can handle the venom much better than his anyway.

She places her lips on his filthy arm, sealing the wound. Closing her eyes against revulsion, she sucks a mouthful of blood. Coppery tanginess bursts warm across her tongue as she turns her head to spit. She sucks again. Spits again.

Hando whimpers as she works. “Kill as many as you can!” someone yells. “But don’t get too close.” Rocks pound the ground nearby, and she almost looks up to see what’s happening, but she forces herself to keep sucking and spitting. The urge to swallow is almost unbearable, even though the taste is revolting.

At last she moves her head away. “Water!” she yells, and a water skin is placed in her hand as if by magic. She rinses and spits several times. Finally she lets herself swallow.

She pours the rest of the water over Hando’s arm, then pokes around the wound, encouraging the cleansing blood to flow.

Hando asks in a trembling voice, “Am I going to die?”

Yes, probably. She reaches down to cup his chin and looks him directly in the eye. “If the bite wasn’t deep, if the venom was close to the skin, then maybe not. But it will hurt badly for about an hour. It will be the worst hurt you’ve ever had.” Of its own accord, her thumb sweeps along his jawline. “When the pain starts to go away, you’ll get sick. I’ll need you to be very brave.”

He nods up at her. Already his face is sallow and his breath comes fast. He says, “Thank you, Mara.”

She gives his chin a gentle squeeze and lets it go. Hando is such a beautiful boy, with a delicate cast to cheek and chin, and eyelashes so thick that his eyes seemed rimmed with kohl. He will break many hearts someday, if he has a chance to grow up.

“We got us some snake meat,” Reynaldo says at her shoulder.

She turns to find him holding up a limp viper, its scaled white belly glistening in the sunshine, and she flinches back.

“How many did you kill?”

He grins. “Five.”

Heat spreads across her neck and shoulders, and she can’t seem to get enough air. Some venom got inside her after all. Or maybe her body is merely rebelling against the fact that these children risked their lives so they could eat well tonight.

MARA unloads the second packhorse and distributes everything among the remaining healthy children to carry. Then she helps Hando mount, hoping and praying that no one else becomes injured, for they are out of horses.

By nightfall, his arm has swollen to twice its size. Everyone else feasts on roasted snake, but Hando can’t keep anything down. He thrashes on the ground, moaning, only half conscious.

She checks Alessa’s feet. They are badly blistered, but the blisters seem to have drained well, and Alessa claims they only hurt when she walks. Mara orders her to keep them clean.

Next she settles beside Julio. He lies on his side by the fire, unable to sit up. “Hello, beautiful,” he whispers weakly.

She traces his lips with her forefinger. “I have to check your back.”

He nods.

Carefully, she unwraps the bandages. The entry site has puffed out like a cauliflower, and something that is part blood, part pus leaks from the gash. It’s badly infected, in spite of her earlier efforts. If they don’t get help soon, he’ll die.

“How bad is it?” he says between gritted teeth.

Mara is glad the dark hides her tears. “I think it’s getting better.”

“Liar.”

She rewraps the wound. There is nothing she can do for it.

He says, “If I don’t make it, promise me—”

“You’ll make it!” Her voice comes out angrier than she intends.

“Mara. Love. This is a bad wound. A death wound. I need to know you’ll look out for Adán.”

“I . . . of course.” Then she reaches over to flick his nose. “But I’m not giving up yet, you idiot.”

He grins. Then his eyes flutter closed, and she hopes with all the hope in her heart that it’s a natural sleep and not a sickly one.

IT rains again the next day, but Mara orders them up and moving anyway.

“A day’s rest wouldn’t hurt,” Adán says, as she fills her water skin with brown runoff water.

“We’re exhausted,” Reynaldo agrees. “And the little ones had a big fright with those snakes.”

Mara shakes her head. “We have to find help soon,” she says. “If we don’t travel, Julio and Hando will die. Maybe all of us.”