Jyn gives me a small, almost bashful smile. “How thoughtful.” She turns to the village elder. “What were you saying earlier?”
“A child has gone missing,” the village elder explains. “Mei. We must find her before dark. A few of us are gathering to search the forest.”
I lean in to whisper in her ear. “Do you think you can track her scent?”
Jyn nods. “We’ll find her.”
The village elder sighs in partial relief. “Thank you both. Quickly, we must make haste. The surrounding forests are relatively safe, but Mei is far too small to be out alone.”
“Then I’d better join you,” Feng interjects, stepping forward. Her bow and a quiver of arrows are already thrown over her shoulder.
The muscles in my neck and back strain, and my nostrils flare out of reflex alone. How long was she standing there? Why will this huntress not leave us be?
“Let’s go, Leaf Water,” she says, taking the lead. “Try not t’ get yerself eaten.”
My first instinct is to suggest that she stay behind. I’m not pleased by the thought of having her so close to Jyn, but then I think better of it. The huntress is a far better tracker than most. If anyone can find the missing child, it’s her.
Beside me, Jyn presses her hand to the middle of my shoulder blades. My muscles release at her touch. I didn’t realize how tense I’d become.
“Come along,” Jyn says. “The sooner we find the girl, the better.”
I take a deep breath, more than a little aware of how the huntress eyes the two of us suspiciously over her shoulder. Her demeanor is cold and untrusting, her unusually alert posture betraying her paranoia. We will have to be exceedingly cautious around her; there’s no telling what she’ll do once she gets us alone in the forest.
Reaching down, I take Jyn’s hand and give her fingers a light squeeze.
Stay close to me, my heart.
29
Bamboo forests are few andfar between where I’m from, cleared out centuries ago to make room for sprawling rice paddies and fields of wheat. The bamboo here is excessively dense, sprouting up out of the cold ground every few feet. It’s difficult to navigate through, which I’ll admit does not aid our search. Thankfully, we have Jyn’s keen sense of smell working to our advantage.
She’s discreet, flicking her tongue out to taste the air only every few minutes. She sniffs silently, too, facing away from the huntress when she does so.
“This way,” Jyn says, tugging me… north? I dare not let go of her hand, afraid that the search party will have to look for not one, but two lost souls.
The huntress follows. Our own personal specter.
It’s unnerving. She hasn’t spoken a word since stepping into the forest with us, always making sure to stay a few arm’s lengths behind us. I’m beginning to doubt that she has any interest in finding the missing child, given how intent she seems on catching me and Jyn off guard.
“Anything?” one of the villagers calls to the group, which has now fanned out to cover more ground.
“Nothing yet!” I shout back.
All around us, the light of day slowly fades, bringing with it a chill that seems to seep into my very marrow. It’s not long before I can see my exhales rise in silver clouds, my teeth chattering despite all the layers I’m dressed in. I can only hope we find the child before the cold does.
“This is takin’ forever,” the huntress utters as she nocks an arrow to her bowstring.
“There’s no need for such a weapon,” I point out, exasperation leaking into my tone.
“Ye can never be too careful,” she says, with a pointed look in Jyn’s direction. “Ye never know what beasts lurk in the shadows.”
Irritation flickers at the nape of my neck as a protective instinct stirs within. It’s only when I feel Jyn’s hand graze my own that I remember myself. Now isn’t the time to lose control. I must play no part in confirming the huntress’s suspicions.
“Let’s try this way,” Jyn says, marching off at a brisk pace.
An eerie stillness has fallen over this section of the bamboo forest. There’s not a hint of light nor sound, including the gentle rustle of the breeze. We have traveled so far that we are completely removed from the village. The ground is soft beneath our feet, this landscape untouched by human presence.
“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” I ask, knowing full well that I’m already terribly turned around.
