Page 70 of Code Bound
I can’t wait to chop them off.
“We should head inward,” I say, opening the map again briefly to check we’re headed in the right direction. “There’s a safehouse ahead, but I don’t think we’re going to make it there tonight. We’re going to have to camp, but at least we won’t be near the vines or the Killing Trees anymore.”
I look to my left on instinct to find the vines still crawling along the Silent Forest floor, still mocking us despite our escape. A shiver runs through my body as I remember the vines trying to force their way into my mouth. I don’t know what would have happened should they have succeeded. I don’t want to know.
“Look at that!” Vesper whispers, pointing to a large colorful creature fluttering in front of us. “What is that? It’s so pretty.”
I frown. “I think it’s a bird.”
We have birds in Dross, small brown finches that are difficult to catch and don’t make a good meal, and large vultures that taste worse than Harrow Bars. None of them are as colorful as this one. It’s as large as the vultures we have, but that’s the only similarity. Its beak is curved and sharp, a bit of black around the tip of it. Its head is a bright, crimson red that flows partially down its body before it runs into a bright yellow and even brighter blue. Around its eye, a white patch marks the skin. It watches us with intelligent eyes as it lands on a tree branch and hops back and forth. That beautiful blue color that had marked its wings is now folded up so we mostly only see the red and yellow.
“That is a Scarlet Macaw,” Cipher announces for the two of us. “A parrot that once lived in the Amazon Rainforest. Now extinct, like most other species there.”
“It’s beautiful,” Vesper breathes. “Hi there,” she coos to it, waving at it.
I roll my eyes at her gesture. It’s an animal. It’s not going to respond.
The parrot tilts its head at her. “Hi there,” it repeats mockingly and we both tense.
“Many species of parrots are capable of speech,” Cipher says. “This typically manifests in mockery as that is the easiest way to learn.”
“Wow,” Vesper says. “Do you think?—”
SQUAWK!
We both stare in horror as the crawling vines snap out and wrap around the macaw. Bright colored feathers fly in the air and flutter down. The strangled sound of it cuts off abruptly as the vine snaps its neck before dragging it down, down, down to the ground. We watch as the bright body, the red feathers like blood, is dragged deeper into the Silent Forest. A tree shifts and a maw opens.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
I take a step back. Vesper covers her mouth.
“Well . . .” I say, staring at the feathers on the ground, the only evidence left behind that the creature was ever there. “I guess we know why it’s called The Silent Forest now.”
Vesper turns wide, horrified eyes to me, but she inches forward, carefully, and plucks the feathers off the ground that aren’t within range of the vines. She stares at them, at the brightly pigmented color, and then they disappear into her inventory.
The silence left behind the violent moment is deafening.
CHAPTER21
VESPER
Idon’t know why I took the feathers. I certainly don’t want to remember the horrible death of the poor thing. The only reason I can come up with for my compulsive need to pick them up is because they could be useful for something later. My inventory stays relatively full. Despite Locke bitching about my constant looting where I pick up items, drop others, and repeat the process over and over again, Cipher has not once chastised me for hoarding. Which means it can’t be a bad thing to do. So, what if I have to constantly figure out what’s more important between my items? So, what if I had to drop one of my stacks of rocks to fit the feathers in my inventory. I don’t need seven stacks of rocks. Six is probably plenty enough.
When the sun descends in the sky and the stars pepper the night again, we decide to find a spot to settle down for the night. So far, the Leaf Cutter Empire hasn’t been dangerous. We’ve come across normal creatures, including more of the macaws, and a variety of generally non-terrifying things like colorful frogs and reptiles that move quickly away from us when we appear. It doesn’t put me at ease that we haven’t encountered anything of note in these first few hours within the Leaf Cutter Empire. If anything, I’m more nervous, like this zone is lulling us into a false sense of complacency. I remain alert at every sound, and despite the strain on my eyes, I keep my hyena mask firmly in place.
I take the first watch so Locke can get the first night of sleep. I don’t bother asking him if he’s okay anymore. He just lies despite the bright purple bruising beneath his black ink tattoos on his throat. He thinks I can’t see it, though I suppose he can’t see it either without a mirror. I’m worried about the heavy way he walks, as if his ankle might have been twisted, but any time I try to fuss over him or force him to take a break, he waves away my concern.
I would have done the same.
In Dross, weakness is a death sentence. Have a limp in Dross and, at the very least, a bunch of kids will start following you around in case you croak. Worst case, someone speeds up the process. It’s an ingrained trait of all those who grew up fighting for survival, and it means that he won’t ever stop here unless he physically can’t go on. And even then, he’d have to be bleeding out for that to be possible.
Within minutes, Locke is snoring peacefully beside the small fire we’d built. His arms are wrapped around himself protectively, his legs pulled up in the fetal position. Like this, he looks scared. It makes me want to protect him from whatever monsters haunt his dreams. I imagine it’s one particular monster, but there could always be more. He’d be offended if I ever told him that though, that I could protect him. He’d probably say something silly like, “I don’t need protection.” He and Dox are a lot alike in that aspect. She fights my care, too, but we’ve come to a mutual understanding that we’ll have each other’s backs no matter what. That means we can’t bitch about it when one of us is vulnerable.
The only food we have is the meat chunk from the Arapaima. We hadn’t been able to eat in the Greenhouse Tavern thanks to Stryker, so this all we have. Locke isn’t a fan, but I don’t mind the taste of the fish. It’s good, better than a fucking Harrow Bar, so I can’t complain. I pull the meat from my inventory, surprised that it hasn’t gone bad.
“Food within your inventory will decay at a slower rate than it would if outside of the inventory, but it is not infinite. Your food with go bad, and the fish you currently cook will only remain edible for another day or so within your inventory.”
Sighing, I start slicing the meat into thin strips with the tiny pocketknife I carry. The meat is tough and hard to cut, but eventually, I get lots of thin strips prepared. Then I carefully lay them out on a piece of wood that I set on the fire. Locke doesn’t stir as I cook it, so I reason I’ll give it to him once he wakes up for his shift to watch. I hum in pleasure as I take the first bite, enjoying having something to eat at all. My stomach gives a rumble of happiness as I fill it with as much fish as possible. My stomach starts to cramp by the time I’m done. Only then do I lean back and look up, peering at the stars I can see through the tree canopies.
