Elemental Hunger by Elana Johnson

the promise of death if his laws weren’t obeyed. Yet these Unmanifested people didn’t appear afraid. I watched a mother lead her two children through the driest part of the road, a basket of apples tucked against her side. She smiled at one boy, and slipped her hand around the shoulders of the other. Poor, sure. Without powers, yes. But unafraid.
    I stuck to the shadows as I crept along the alley. When I spied a trash bin, I rummaged inside and found some crusts of bread and half an apple. I tucked them into my coat pockets and darted behind a shack. A stand of trees stretched along this side of the village.
    I walked under bare branches until I came to a small clearing. Trails etched patterns in the snow, creating crisscrossing paths across the open space. I paused, enjoying the cozy silence which allowed me to feel unafraid for the first time since I’d Manifested.
    After eating my meager meal, I leaned against a tree and closed my eyes, intending to rest for just a minute.
    I woke up when I heard bells ringing, a signal for the field workers to return to the city before the gate closed. I sat up and looked toward the sound. I rubbed my hands together, igniting them just long enough to feel the warmth.
    The wind increased, and I pulled my hood over my hat to keep the air off my neck. But this was a different wind—not full of icy fury.
    No, this wind felt Elemental.
    I scanned the clearing, seeing no one. What if the Airmaster had seen me warming my hands? Flaming fingertips were hard to explain. I scooted around the tree trunk as the snow across from me crunched under heavy footsteps.
    The intruder wore filthy black pants with a green jacket. He had the pinched, unhealthy look of someone who hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days. He swirled his hand, and the wind raced into the trees, sending down a shower of nuts.
    My stomach roared with hunger, and it took all my willpower to stay still. Another Elemental. And he was eating.
    The wind danced around him, tousling his sandy curls. He looked to be a few years older than me, maybe nineteen or twenty. His eyes darted around the clearing, almost as if he knew I was hiding there, watching him.
    Then the wind surrounding him died. He flattened himself into a snow bank just as a chicken strutted toward an exposed patch of earth under a tree. A moment later, the guy shot to his feet, his hands held in front of him. The bird squawked once before the air flattened it to the ground. The animal suffocated in a few seconds, and the guy chose a meandering path toward it.
    Holy hot infernos, I thought. Horrified—and a little awed—I stepped from behind the tree. The boy bent over to retrieve his kill. I moved into the open, scuffing my feet against the snow-packed ground.
    The Airmaster spun, hiding the dead chicken behind his back. “Who are you?”
    “I thought maybe we could share,” I said, sauntering down a path that ran parallel to him in what I hoped could pass for a masculine gait. “Considering how you killed that chicken, it’s only fair.”
    With his secret revealed, his face paled. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
    “How were you planning to cook it?” My voice sounded too casual, and the boy’s eyes narrowed.
    “Why? You know something I don’t?”
    “Undoubtedly.” I stopped a few yards away from him. “How do you usually eat it?”
    “Raw,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “Fire is hard to come by in villages like this.”
    I considered his blue eyes. His sloping nose. How he stood feet shoulder-width apart without any tension in his neck. With him, I’d be on my way to a Council of my own. That sealed the deal.
    “Not really.” I snapped my fingers. A flame erupted in my palm.
    He took a step back, his eyes locking on mine.
    “We can share.” I licked my lips, the taste of that chicken already in my mouth.
    He moved forward, creating his own haphazard path in the snow, and pumped my unburning hand twice. “Deal. My