Author: Audrey Grey
Category: Fantasy
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Stop sightseeing like this is the Dollar General, Summer.
Lungs aching, I reach for my bow with numb fingers. By now my hands have lost all sensation. Plus I’m having trouble getting used to the way my breath clouds my vision every time I exhale.
This is not the place to let my guard down.
Drawing an arrow along the bow, I sight down the squirrel first. I hate killing animals, but I have to bring something home to eat. My fingers are red and achy.
What are the stages of frostbite? Is red first or is that a later, fingers-fall-off stage?
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“Who needs fingers anyway?” I say conversationally to the squirrel. “You do just fine without them—at least, you did until I came along.”
Only I can’t shoot him. Pretend he’s a cheeseburger, Summer. I try, but he’s so cute with his fluffy black ears and spastic tail. I want to take him home and cuddle, not eat him.
Sighing, I sling my bow over my shoulder, slip the arrow into my back jean’s pocket, and then pull out another lollipop, this one cherry-flavored.
For a moment, as the sugary goodness rushes over me, all seems right with the world.
Then I remember it’s freezing, and I’m still a good twenty minutes from home. I can’t re-enter our world in the same spot, in case Bryce is still waiting for me. And the guards are probably all looking for me now.
If I follow the Shimmer for about a mile to the north, I’ll be out of the Millers’ territory and near the woods close to our property.
“Time to jog, Summer. You can do it.” My little pep-talk falls flat. My arms shake, and I’m so tired that even taking three steps seems impossible, let alone a freaking mile.
Yet I don’t have a choice. Story of my life.
Promising myself the rest of the candy in my pocket when I’m done, I break into a half-run half-lurch. Bribery is an underrated act, especially when bribing oneself. Chatty Cat follows, swerving in and out of my legs as he bounds across the snow and makes weird mewling noises.
My breath plumes around me as I parallel the Shimmer, pushing my body hard, my boots slogging through the snow. My arms are frozen, and my sweat has formed a thin layer of ice that encrusts my body.
When I’m done, I can hardly stand. My body completely numb. But I’m incredibly proud of myself, and I demolish another lollipop, crunching straight to the gum this time.
As the sour juice from the gum trickles down my throat, I let out a cloudy sigh and then sweep my gaze over this forbidden world one last time. The beauty of it is haunting. The way nothing is dead, as if a winter storm blew in one fine summer day and froze everything just so. Even the moon seems covered in a layer of hoarfrost, the air honeyed with whatever fruit hangs from the trees.
Fruit. My tongue prickles with moisture. I haven’t tasted any real produce beyond a few expired cans of mandarin oranges in months, and the artificial cherry flavor on my tongue suddenly pales in comparison to the real thing.
The golden spheres taunt me from where they hang, swollen and ripe, begging to be picked and eaten.
I can almost feel my teeth breaking their skin. Almost taste what I imagine is a semi-soft inside, like a firm pear. The promise of fresh fruit sends a surge of energy into my body. The promise of not going home empty-handed?
Even more alluring.
Everyone knows not to steal from the Fae. But this is wild fruit, growing from trees that were once our trees, in a land that was once our land. Which, technically, makes it our fruit.
The logic seems pretty legit to me.
My hands are no good for climbing, but I find a tree on the very edge of the forest with branches bent low enough to pick its fruit. Using my shirt like a basket, I fill the bottom of my tank top with nine of the golden fruits.
Up close, their skin is a greenish-gold, the curved stems dark eggplant-purple.
I lug them to the Shimmer, say a prayer the magical fence goes both ways, then prepare to leap back to my world. From this side, the wall is completely transparent, and I take in the rolling prairie and sparse forest.
Even covered in a layer of ice, the world on this side feels so much more alive.
Resituating my bow on my shoulder, I hold the shirt with the fruit in one hand, splay my other hand on the Shimmer, and go to push—
Something clamps down on my left arm and spins me around. I cry out on instinct as fear floods me. The fruit goes tumbling into the frozen grass. I try to plant my feet to keep from flying, but whatever has me in its grip is too strong and I’m knocked sideways to my hands and knees.
Chatty Cat snarls before letting out a low, terrifying growl. He’s crouched beside me, glaring up at my assaulter.