Chapter One: The Call of Adventure

Carey

"Carey? Carey?"

My mother's tone grew increasingly shrill. She called my name again, over and over, her agitated footsteps rustling through the laundry room. My breath grew increasingly ragged, muffled by the cloth over my mouth. Mother started frantically opening doors of the tall, dusty cabinet I was kneeling behind. It wobbled on its rickety feet as she slammed the doors shut, and for a moment I feared it would topple over. Eventually I heard her walking away, cursing under her breath.

I'm sorry, Mum.

I pulled my sleeve from my mouth and straightened my legs, rubbing my calves and wincing. I stared at the scratched back of the cabinet, my chest tightening. I knew why she was worried. If the Gifted realised I was missing, they'd be furious. Each of us was expected to do our part on the farms, and they'd blame my family for me skipping work. But I didn't have a choice. After last night, I needed to see her. Clover.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and tried to ignore the twinge of guilt settling in my stomach. Pursing my lips, I looked away from the cabinet and turned to face the dark depths of the tunnel it concealed. I shivered and stooped my head slightly to avoid hitting it on the low ceiling. My lantern's light glittered against the pale stone wall, illuminating the passageway in an eerie purplish light. I knew in my heart that the tunnel was most likely empty, but I couldn't help shake the feeling someone was watching. If I was found in this place, I'd be punished harshly. Even worse, Clover and the rest of the tunnel's occupants would be destroyed.

The Gifted can't be here. They don't know. Stop being stupid.

I gritted my teeth and started walking. No-one in Wallfoot knew where the tunnel had come from. It was an open secret among many of the villagers; a 150 foot long semi-circular structure punched into enormous white stone structure of World's End. If the Gifted found out about it, they'd waste no time in banning us from entering and maybe even close the entrance permanently. I couldn't let that happen. After all, we were mourning those who'd been branded traitors. It was a small haven of defiance in our world of obedience.

As I reached the halfway point, my foot slipped on a loose rock. I threw a hand onto the wall to steady myself and glanced down. The passage was overflowing with rocks, pebbles, and decaying flowers, mostly gathered around the edges, but this one had tumbled onto the well-trodden pathway in the centre. I bent over to pick up the rock I'd slipped on and turned it over in my hand. Someone had carved what I thought was letters into the stone, but they were too worn to make out. I wondered how long this rock had sat in the tunnel. It could've been centuries, for all I knew.

I placed the rock back on the ground next to the other pebbles and continued on. I stopped when I reached the very end of the passage and placed my lantern on the ground. I crouched down in front of a large, triangular shaped grey rock. My eyes fell onto the word wonkily carved into the stone.

Clover.

My breath caught in my throat as I read that name over and over. My eyes watered. Reaching into the pocket on my skirt, I pulled out a handful of crumpled poppies. I placed them carefully in front of the stone and stood back, swallowing.

"Hello Aunty Clover," I said, squeezing my eyes shut at how childish my words sounded. I don't know what I was expecting, a reply? Even if the dead could talk, Clover wouldn't say anything. After all, she wasn't buried here. I wasn't even sure if she was truly dead.

"I… I know this is stupid," I said tentatively. "But – I just wanted to say that – I miss you. And I wish you were still here."

Tears welled under my eyelids. I sat on the dusty ground in front of her grave and let the tears spill down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away with my sleeve, blushing.

"I can't believe it's been eight years," I said, swallowing. "I remember everything you ever told me. Everything…"

My voice trailed off. Memories flooded my mind. I could hear the creak of her rocking chair and picture the purple flames dancing in the fireplace, licking at the base of a large cooking pot. The hearty smell of stew filled our family's small room and I could clearly remember the warmth of the fire. Winifred and I lay on a rug beside the fire, warming our toes, our muddy boots resting by the door. It was how we spent most evenings back then, alone with Clover, our parents and two older siblings still out tending to the farmlands with the rest of the villagers. Clover sat beside us, stirring the pot, her frail wrists shaking with the effort. Although she was only thirty-five when she was taken, she was more bone than muscle, with wrinkled skin and hair white as snow. Still, she smiled with warmth and a spark would dance in her pale blue eyes as she recounted her stories.

Most of the stories she told us were about her adventures. She had run away from home at the age of fifteen and spent the next ten years seeing the world. She had travelled all over Faeven, from the snowy mountains in the north, to the industrial towns in the east, to the large array of farmlands in the south. She spoke of a life of running from sanctuary to sanctuary, forming close bonds with other outcasts, and having many daring midnight escapes from the Gifted. A few times, I asked if she had ever travelled beyond World's End; beyond the great white wall that encircled Faeven. Winifred thought I was mad for asking.

Everyone else in Wallfoot was certain that nothing lay beyond the wall except space and stars. I couldn't help but imagine something different. Forests with trees as tall as the wall. Deserts. The ocean. Strange places where people spoke in strange tongues and wore strange clothing. The stories couldn't have come from nowhere, surely. But I had never dared to tell my family and friends about my doubts. They'd think I was mad, just like Winifred had. At least she'd never rat me out to the Gifted though. That sort of talk could get you into a lot of trouble.

"My son, my son, remember the days,

When the Gifted fell and chaos reigned..."

I murmured the forbidden melody under my breath, clutching another handful of poppies to my chest. My vision blurred as a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

"N - Next time I'm here, I'll have some stories for you," I said, forcing my lips into a small smile. "I'm gonna leave and see the world like you did. And when I'm back, I'll tell you all about it. I promise."

I placed the final handful of poppies in front of her stone and sat in silence for a few minutes. I knew I should go - the Gifted would surely notice my absence if I kept away much longer - but I couldn't bring myself to leave Clover alone in this dark tunnel.

"Rrrowww. Rrrowww."

I scrambled to my feet as a loud cry and a crash rang through the tunnel. My heart raced as I whipped around, relaxing as soon as I saw a small tabby cat trotting into view. She meowed again, staying up at me unblinkingly with her large yellow eye. It was Frog, one of Wallfoot's ratcatchers. She was one of the friendliest of the cats who roamed our village, always keen for cuddles and pets when she could get them.

"It's just you," I said, wiping my cheeks quickly and smiling down at her. "How did you get in here? Did I leave a small crack with the cabinet?"

She meowed loudly again as though that it explained everything, nudging my boot with her nose. her twin tails wound around my calf and she looked up at me expectantly. I laughed and picked her up, cuddling her close to my chest. She purred, closing her eye and pushing her head against my chin.

"Come on," I said. "They'll be looking for both of us."

I paused, glancing at Clover's stone for a final time and lowering my voice to a whisper. "I'll be back."

With Frog in my arms, I trudged back to the laundry room. I pushed the cabinet forward and squeezed through the crack, glancing nervously around. Luckily, the room was empty - everyone must've still been out on the farms. I pushed the cabinet back into place and hurried from the room. racing down the winding corridors of Wallfoot's main residence building, Bricks, where at least eighty families had their own room to call home. Once we made it outside, we were met with a light drizzle and a brisk morning wind. I raised the hood of my shawl, shivering as cold rain splattered on my scalp. Frog remained unphased in my arms. Her love of water was part of the reason we villagers had named her Frog.

"Let's get to the stables," I said, mud splattering against the hem of my dress as I broke into a run. I ran past our village's second residence building, Stone, which another sixty families made their home. Past that were the paddocks where our village grew vegetables, wheat, and raised a small herd of goats. We also had a small stable where we kept a few horses for ploughing the fields. It was my turn to muck out, so I made my way there first. I was almost to the stable door when I heard my name.

"Carey!"

Wincing, I turned around to face the caller. My mother hurried towards me, her forehead furrowed into a frown.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. To my surprise, she flung her arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a tight hug. Frog meowed in protest as she was squashed between us. "I've been looking everywhere. I thought..."

Her voice trailed off. She gave me a hard squeeze then let go, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at me. "The Gifted are doing the count. Go now or you'll be marked absent again. They'll punish you if this keeps happening. Is that you want? Because I -"

"I know, Mum," I interrupted. "I'm going, okay? Don't worry."

I pushed passed her and hurried towards the Gifted woman standing on duty at the edge of the nearest paddock. She was tall, with black hair pulled back into a tight bun and harsh brown eyes. She wore the crisp, dark grey uniform of the Gifted, and her cloak was fastened with a small brooch embroided with a white bird - the mark of a Gift of Air. Beside her, a smaller, older woman in a frayed brown tunic stood holding a large piece of parchment and a quill pen. She was one of the thralls, the nonGifted followers and assistants of the Gifted. Where exactly they came from, we villagers didn't know.

"Here for work?" the Gifted woman said abruptly, when she noticed me approaching. "Number?"

"F13-707," I replied, pausing. "I'm in the stables first."

The thrall scribbled something on her parchment. The Gifted woman nodded, yawning and pointed lazily in the direction of the stable, even though I'd been there many times in my eighteen years of life. I hurried away, glancing back at Mum, who was getting her own number ticked off, and a stab of guilt hit my chest.

I knew she was already on edge. After all, in two days, my older sister's firstborn child, Aggy, was due to be assessed. Every new year the Gifted would visit every family in Faeven and assess any newborn children for Gifts. I wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but apparently they could sense it on them even though it would be years before their powers manifested. Out of myself, my three siblings, and 3 nieces and nephews, none had been Gifted so far. I knew Mum and Dad felt it was only a matter of time. After all, one in ten people in Faeven were Gifted. Our luck couldn't last forever. We were all hoping baby Aggy wouldn't be one of them.

When I reached the stable doors, I placed Frog carefully down on the ground.

"Go on. I've gotta go to work now. Find some rats, that's your job," I said to the cat. She meowed loudly and ran off to roll in a nearby puddle of mud. I rolled my eyes, grinning as I entered the stable, glad to be out of the rain.

"Hi horsies," I said. They all started neighing, excited for their breakfast, poking their heads out from their stalls into the central walkway. i grabbed a pitchfork and started grabbing large chunks of hay from the open bale by the door. I dumped some into each of their feed buckets and added a scoop of oats. the horses dug in enthusiastically. Smiling, I grabbed a brush from the rack on the wall and slipped into Mary's stall. She whinnied softly as I entered, still focused on eating while I brushed her neck and shoulders. She was a warm bay colour, but she was getting more and more grey around the muzzle and the silver horn that sprung from her forehead was getting duller every year. She was the oldest of our village's horses, but she was almost everyone's favourite.

"Hey old girl," I said gently, patting her on the nose. "Hope you're having a better week than me."

She turned her head to me for a moment and nuzzled me in response, before going straight back to her food. I chuckled and finished her brush in silence. I was about to exit her stall when I heard the stable door opening.

"Carey?" a familiar voice sounded through the air. "Are you in here? Mum said you'd finally reappeared."

I pursed my lips and swallowed.

"Yeah, I'm here," I called, clearing my throat. I left the stall and forced a smile. "She was fussing over nothing. What're you doing here, Win?"

My twin sister, Winifred, closed the stable door and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest. She was neat as a pin, as always. We'd been born identical, but as we'd grown older the differences between us became more obvious. We had the same pale blue eyes and tanned skin, but Winifred's dark brown hair was neat and shoulder length, with barely a single hair out of place. My hair was longer and always tangled.

"I thought I'd come and help you," she said, hesitating. "I didn't want you to have to muck out the stalls on your own."

"I've done it plenty of times before," I pointed out. "You'll get in trouble."

"They've already marked me off." she grabbed a shovel. "They won't notice. And I wanted to see you. You've been acting weird."

"No I haven't. I just felt like a morning walk, that's all. You and Mum are making a fuss over nothing."

"You know she's stressed out, that's why she's fussing. Aggy's Assessment Day is in two days. She, Dad and Lis are beside themselves with worry."

"I know," I said, biting my lip. "I - I'm worried too. I didn't mean to make things harder for them. I just needed to see..."

My voice trailed off. I swallowed, turning my back to her and grabbing a shovel that was leaning against the stable wall. I wanted to tell her. To explain everything. But it felt impossible. All my life, she and Clover had been the only ones I'd felt truly understood me. Clover had her adventures and daring life, and Winifred... Although as children she'd always been quieter than me, content to sit and daydream or watch while I got into scrapes, she'd never expressed any interest in ordinary village life. Until yesterday, that is.

"Aunt Clover?" Winifred asked quietly, hesitating. "Did... did you go and visit her?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "It'd been a while. I thought I owed her a visit. That's all."

I headed into Mary's stall, shovel and pail in hand. Winifred followed me, biting at her fingernail, as she often did when feeling anxious. We started to clean the stalls and cleaned in silence for a few minutes.

"Is... Is it 'cos of what happened last night?" she asked eventually, staring down at her shovel.

"Of course not," I said quickly. "I... I'm happy for you. Why wouldn't I be? I was just surprised, that's all. Can you leave it alone?"

"I know it was sudden," Winifred persisted. "Sorry if I took you by surprise, but - well, we're eighteen now, Carey. We're s'posed to be getting married soon. And Oliver - we're good friends, and he asked me, so I thought - "

"I said I'm happy for you," I interrupted, putting my shovel down and looking over at her. I took a deep breath, trying in vain to hold it all in. Unfortunately, my mouth had other ideas. "If it's what you want, then great. But is it what you want, Win? All our lives, you never seemed interested in that kind of thing. Ordinary life. Getting married, having kids, living in this village and working under the Gifted until you die. Oliver's nice, I mean - I'm friends with him too. I guess if you have to marry someone, he's better than most. But do you even love him? I never got that impression."

I paused, hesitating for a second before I continued. "I... I thought you wanted something different from life, that's all. Like me."

Winifred passed the end of the shovel between her hands, still picking at her nails. "I just want to be normal, that's all. And what else are we s'posed to do. Carey? I know you think Clover ran away for ten years and we can too, but - look what happened to her. She was taken away, probably killed. Mum and Dad still have the scars from keeping her hidden all those years. Besides, what's wrong with our way of life? We're surrounded by family, friends. Sure we work hard, but the Gifted are usually fair to us - they give us our rations as promised. Mum and Dad and Lis and Rob and everyone else seem perfectly happy with it."

"Nothing's wrong with it," I insisted. "I told you. If you want to settle down, marry him, have kids - then great. But I never thought it was something you wanted."

"It is," she insisted. Even now, there was a quaver in her voice that made it hard to believe. "Be happy for me, Carey. As I'll be happy for you when you settle down. Running away, it's not... It's not a real option. You'll just be killed, or worse. Like Clover. Promise me you won't. Promise me."

I pushed past her. "I'm gonna muck out the next stall," I said flatly, my knuckles turning white as I clenched the shovel's handle tightly. "C'mon, let's get a move on."

She shook her head, reaching out and grabbing my elbow.

"Promise me," she said softly, her voice breaking. "I... I don't want to lose you like we lost Clover. Please."

My chest tightened as I watched a single tear spill from her eyes.

"Fine, I promise," I muttered, looking away. "Now c'mon. We'll be expected back in the fields soon."

Another lie.