It's Over or It's Eden by Rebecca Zornow

Author:Rebecca Zornow [Zornow, Rebecca M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: It's Over or It's Eden
Publisher: Rebecca M. Zornow
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

11. The Hot Springs

I’d already admitted it to myself but wasn’t dwelling on it: I was scared to go back to Hetta’s house. I was a soldier. I’d faced up against the Deadlight Gardes destroying our population. I’d survived three months in the wilderness. And I was afraid of an elderly cult leader. One with white hair and wrinkles.

Which was how I found myself heading north to the hot springs instead of directly to Hetta’s house to confront her. The walk was deathly cold. Well, maybe not deathly, but very, very cold.

A woman named Alice had generously sourced warm winter clothes for me. One of her jobs was sorting and disseminating clothing to families and receiving them back as their children grew. Her role wasn’t as lofty as food distribution, but she was up there. I’d heard more than one woman approach her at church to beg off extra pairs of clothes ahead of schedule. Alice came across to me as very thoughtful and observant, making sure she gave families what they needed right when they needed it.

As such, my sparse wardrobe was supplemented with heavy jeans, leggings, and bulky sweaters. When outside, I wore thick black boots, red snow pants, a navy down coat, and a hat and mittens. Alice apologized for the mismatched mittens, but I was dismayed most by the red snow pants. The first time I wore them outside, I rubbed them down with dirt. It barely made a difference—anyone within eyeshot would spot me immediately through the forest, making it hard to hunt or hide. Replacing them was high on my mental to-do list.

The brisk cold snapped eagerly at my cheeks. The thought kept coming to me on my long walks that you could grow colder and colder until you died. Winter in the mountains was downright horrifying, but I guessed the same could be said about heat in the South. Heatstroke versus hypothermia. Rattlesnakes versus Grizzly Bears. Jaguars versus cougars. Aliens versus demons.

I paused, uncertain where the trail was. Marah had given me a thorough description of where the hot springs were and then the hide away in relation to that, but it didn’t occur to me that snow would obscure the well-worn trails. Fortunately, I had been in the area long enough that I could identify the mountains. I had given the peaks nicknames—pointy top, Mt. Doom, the trio. The problem was, I was an insignificant human surrounded by hundred-foot pine trees. I had to maneuver around for an open vantage of the peaks and then correct my course. As it was, I was making bad time.

Though I hadn’t seen anyone yet, I had excuses prepared in my head. If I came upon a Brother hunting, I could say I was hiking as per my military training to keep strong. Training had halted because of the weather conditions, but they all understood that I was committed to fitness.

I had yet to secure an invitation hunting or convince one of the men to show me how to make a snare.

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