The Choosing (The Arcadia Trilogy Book 1) by Rachel Hanna, Bella James Page A
Authors: Rachel Hanna, Bella James
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even faster than her legs. Her mother had screamed like that when Tad had been stung by a grain fly and Grandfather Bane had been right there that day, knowing what to do. He'd found –
Cow's spittle, stupid ugly name for a little brownish daisy like flower. Named that maybe because it was so bitter cows would mouth it and spit it back out and it grew in fields like the one fronting the town square. While most people either froze or ran toward the still screaming mother, Livy took a chance she was right and ran from her, finding the flower easily and tearing up a handful before running back.
It was easy to find the afflicted child and his mother, harder to force her way through the crowd to them but she managed, throwing herself down and quickly rolling the sap-rich flower stem between her palms.
"Where's the sting?" she demanded of the woman who kneeled, wailing, above the child, whose face was already swelling, his breathing becoming thready and weak.
The woman pulled her son's hand up, holding it, watching Livy with hope that scared her even as she covered the site with both hands, rubbing hard to introduce the sap into the wound.
It took only minutes before the swelling began to visibly reduce, and then a few more minutes before the boy opened his eyes and sat up, starting to cry and reaching for his mother, but he was no longer swollen, and he was alive.
Livy sat back on her heels and panted. The mother's gasped out thank you's weren't the point. The boy's shaky breaths were.
Finally she attempted to climb off her heels, her legs having fallen asleep, and looked up only to find herself eye to eye with the female Centurion who had asked for the song.
Startled, Livy started to smile. Only to stop.
As very slowly the Centurion shook her head, nodded toward the boy, and mouthed, "No."
T he miles rolled away as the buses lumbered south, passing through the lower third of Pastoreum. From the farming lands of Agara, they passed through villages where serfs also labored in the fields or fished in enormous natural lakes and dams, where farmers raised cattle and where bread was baked hour upon hour by men with skin burned dark from the constant ovens.
Livy watched out the windows as the landscape changed, barely perceptible at first but finally faster as they reached the incredibly dense, rich lands near the capital city. After they'd left the village of Elle, she'd tried to find a way to speak with the female Centurion, the one who had warned her, but after dispensing her message the woman had turned as uncommunicative as any of the others.
What had been wrong with helping the child stung by the grain fly? All she'd done was use a simple, traditional remedy, the sap of a flower that grew freely in Pastoreum. At home it was as common as cleaning the knee of a child who had fallen. Flies bit; daisies healed.
----
A fter a week on the road the buses passed onto a narrow isthmus with the sea of Oceanus on one side and to the east, the Void began. Brutally hot, rocky, with sand dunes so vast trying to cross them would be similar to crossing an inland ocean.
As the land first changed, from pastoral to wooded to the barren desolation of the Forbidden Zone, everyone crowded by the windows on that side of the bus, watching the scorched fiery wasteland.
"This is where the world snake lives," one large rural youth declared. He was burned by the sun, peeling now from his forced days on the bus, into a patchy, pale, soft-looking youth.
The boy next to him gave a derisive laugh. "It's a myth. How stupid are you? There's no such thing. There's a reason they want to keep us out of the Void. It's only called that so no one goes in and finds what's there." He was dark haired and lean, tall and well muscled and clearly thought he was superior to the spotty youth.
Another girl near Livy spoke up. "I've heard that too. There's all manner of wealth in there, and everything wonderful to eat. The fruit grows on beautiful, low hanging
Cow's spittle, stupid ugly name for a little brownish daisy like flower. Named that maybe because it was so bitter cows would mouth it and spit it back out and it grew in fields like the one fronting the town square. While most people either froze or ran toward the still screaming mother, Livy took a chance she was right and ran from her, finding the flower easily and tearing up a handful before running back.
It was easy to find the afflicted child and his mother, harder to force her way through the crowd to them but she managed, throwing herself down and quickly rolling the sap-rich flower stem between her palms.
"Where's the sting?" she demanded of the woman who kneeled, wailing, above the child, whose face was already swelling, his breathing becoming thready and weak.
The woman pulled her son's hand up, holding it, watching Livy with hope that scared her even as she covered the site with both hands, rubbing hard to introduce the sap into the wound.
It took only minutes before the swelling began to visibly reduce, and then a few more minutes before the boy opened his eyes and sat up, starting to cry and reaching for his mother, but he was no longer swollen, and he was alive.
Livy sat back on her heels and panted. The mother's gasped out thank you's weren't the point. The boy's shaky breaths were.
Finally she attempted to climb off her heels, her legs having fallen asleep, and looked up only to find herself eye to eye with the female Centurion who had asked for the song.
Startled, Livy started to smile. Only to stop.
As very slowly the Centurion shook her head, nodded toward the boy, and mouthed, "No."
T he miles rolled away as the buses lumbered south, passing through the lower third of Pastoreum. From the farming lands of Agara, they passed through villages where serfs also labored in the fields or fished in enormous natural lakes and dams, where farmers raised cattle and where bread was baked hour upon hour by men with skin burned dark from the constant ovens.
Livy watched out the windows as the landscape changed, barely perceptible at first but finally faster as they reached the incredibly dense, rich lands near the capital city. After they'd left the village of Elle, she'd tried to find a way to speak with the female Centurion, the one who had warned her, but after dispensing her message the woman had turned as uncommunicative as any of the others.
What had been wrong with helping the child stung by the grain fly? All she'd done was use a simple, traditional remedy, the sap of a flower that grew freely in Pastoreum. At home it was as common as cleaning the knee of a child who had fallen. Flies bit; daisies healed.
----
A fter a week on the road the buses passed onto a narrow isthmus with the sea of Oceanus on one side and to the east, the Void began. Brutally hot, rocky, with sand dunes so vast trying to cross them would be similar to crossing an inland ocean.
As the land first changed, from pastoral to wooded to the barren desolation of the Forbidden Zone, everyone crowded by the windows on that side of the bus, watching the scorched fiery wasteland.
"This is where the world snake lives," one large rural youth declared. He was burned by the sun, peeling now from his forced days on the bus, into a patchy, pale, soft-looking youth.
The boy next to him gave a derisive laugh. "It's a myth. How stupid are you? There's no such thing. There's a reason they want to keep us out of the Void. It's only called that so no one goes in and finds what's there." He was dark haired and lean, tall and well muscled and clearly thought he was superior to the spotty youth.
Another girl near Livy spoke up. "I've heard that too. There's all manner of wealth in there, and everything wonderful to eat. The fruit grows on beautiful, low hanging
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