The Deepest Blue by Sarah Beth Durst

Author:Sarah Beth Durst
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

It was time to forage again. They still hadn’t found a second camp that felt safe enough, which made Mayara nervous, and she was developing too much of a pattern with regard to where and when she harvested coconuts and other supplies, which made her even more nervous.

After much discussion, they agreed to try foraging at the cove. Roe argued that none of the other trainees would have stayed by the deadly beach, so the spirits would have abandoned it too.

It’s logical, Mayara thought. She just wasn’t sure that spirits were logical. But continuing to forage in the same place was too dangerous. That much she was sure of.

“Do you think any of the others are still alive?” Roe asked.

“I hope so.” At least she hadn’t heard any screams lately.

Sad that a good day means not hearing anyone die.

She couldn’t believe she was actually getting used to being here. Not that I want this to be my new home. Suddenly, she missed Kelo with an ache so strong that she forgot to breathe.

“Mayara? Pay attention,” Roe said.

“Sorry.” She yanked her mind back to the present. They were side by side at the lip of the cave, peering down at the cove. It looked just as idyllic as it had from the ship: flush with tropical fruit trees, brilliantly colored birds calling to one another, and flowers of every imaginable hue adorning the rocks. Beautiful white sand in a crescent was kissed by the clear turquoise water. It was so clear that even from here, Mayara could see the shimmer of schools of fish. “Can you tell if any spirits are watching the cove?”

Roe was silent for a moment, her forehead crinkled in concentration. “There are spirits on the ridges, but they aren’t watching the cove.” She pointed toward the cliffs, and Mayara sent her thoughts in that direction. It was a strange sensation, trying to “see” with her mind. The best way she could think of it was like squinting to see something in the dark or straining to hear a distant sound. Or trying to touch a wispy bit of fluff floating in the breeze. She “felt” them, between the trees and out in the waters of the cove, but she couldn’t read their thoughts well enough to know whether they were paying attention to the cove. Roe was better at it.

“Dart in, grab fallen fruit, and come back,” Roe ordered. “That’s it. Don’t waste time climbing any trees. And don’t go too far. I swear the spirits get more and more agitated every day.”

She’d noticed that. The spirits had taken to traveling in swarms. She felt their agitation like a continuous itch in the back of her mind. “Yeah, I think they miss killing people. They’re happiest when they’re slaughtering.”

“Try not to make them happy.”

Mayara targeted a nearby tree with three fallen coconuts. That’s what they needed most urgently—more liquid. Getting to the streams was too tricky—they were both watched by water spirits. Yesterday one stream had been frozen by an ice spirit who guarded it zealously.

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