Shatter the Suns by Caitlin Sangster

Author:Caitlin Sangster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

CHAPTER 33

JUNE LEADS US INTO A bank of trees that huddle together against the wind beyond the abandoned dwellings, blocking its harsh bursts. As we walk, something crunches under my boot. I pause, expecting to find a bone half submerged in the mud under my boot. It would fit this murky place.

But when I stoop to look at the pieces, I find the shattered bits of a rice bowl. June turns to see what’s stopped me, her nose wrinkling as I pick up one of the shards. A faded pattern of flowers is stenciled along the rim, fragmented characters in measured strokes just below.

Long life. Prosperity.

I set the shard back next to its fellows in the mud.

June watches, her eyes narrowed on the orphaned fragments of pottery in their bed of muck, but then she turns back to the trees, gesturing for me to follow. The trees seem almost purposely planted, a windbreak for the village that used to be here, but left long enough that the trees had children and grandchildren of their own. We follow along the line, staying on the village side of the trees until the wind begins to calm, mollified when the sun begins to burn through the veil of mist overhead.

The vegetation grows thicker before I see signs of habitation again—only they’re not the sorts of signs that inspire hope. We step over the rusted remains of an I-beam, our feet finding scatterings of brick and tile mired deep in the ground as if they’d grown up from the earth itself. A shape in the trees ahead turns into the starved outline of what looks like it was a building long ago, nothing left but metal ribs and spine exposed to the elements.

A flutter of movement in the foliage to our left sends a cascade of nervousness down my spine, but June only gives the waving branches a casual glance. It’s not until we’ve walked on that I see a creature there I’ve never seen or heard of before, thick pelt heavy and brown and an ungainly, heavy head. It watches us pass, then goes back to grazing.

June points toward a line forming a belt across the tree trunks ahead. A fence, sharpened posts pointed toward us. It’s not new-looking exactly, but the posts are scored wood. Much more recent than the ruins, or the wood would have rotted and gone long ago.

We slip under the fence, sunlight hardly a flicker of warmth against my back as light begins to filter through from ahead, space between the trees giving hints at something beyond. June stops as we get to the end of the trees, reaching one hand out to a nearby trunk, as if to steady herself. I steel myself to look as I step up next to her, only to have my breath stolen.

We’re standing at the top of a hill. And beyond that hill there’s . . . nothing. A vast rolling mass of gray nothing. Water. An ocean. The weight of

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.