Fleur steps into my embrace, her body cold with shock. Chill and Poppy hold each other, their tears steady and silent. Marie sits alone atWoody’s side. I barely register the five flashes of light that soar off into the desert as our enemies are quietly dispatched by Noelle and the others. They circle around us, their faces pained in the firelight, Summers beside Autumns, Winters beside the Spring, shielding us as we try to find the words to say goodbye.
Chill, Julio, and I carry Woody’s body behind a rocky desert hillside far off the road. Marie walks with Poppy. Fleur guides Amber, her arm draped protectively around her shoulders. The other Seasons watch from a distance as Fleur erects a pyre. Using her magic to summon the roots of the surrounding brush to the surface, she weaves them into a bed strong enough to hold Woody’s thin frame. Stone-faced and broken, Amber conjures a spark. The fire catches too quickly. Burns too brightly. Hurts too deeply. Huddled together as the desert grows cold, we stand vigil over his body through the night.
When the sun rises, the fire is out, his ashes gone, taken by the wind.
47
When All Seems Lost
FLEUR
I awaken, I don’t know how many hours later. My forehead smacks the window as the Winnebago bounces around sharp curves and hairpin switchbacks, eventually turning off onto a pitted dirt road.
“We’ll hike in. Set up camp,” Jack tells Julio. The other Seasons stir, lifting their heads from each other’s shoulders as they rouse from sleep.
I stretch stiffly, struggling to make out anything through the dust and grime on the windows. “Where are we?”
“We’re here,” Jack says, as if that answers anything. Or maybe everything.
Julio parks the Winnebago beside a copse of trees. The other Seasons throw open the door of the RV, anxious to set foot on stationary ground. There’s no exhaust on the air. No drone of traffic anywhere close. I climb down after them, breathing in a cool breeze dense with the scent of cedar and fern. We seem to be in some kind of park. Pine-capped mountains rise up around an emerald valley dotted with picnicareas and trail signs. Jack stares at the gleaming lake in its center, one foot still perched inside the RV.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, brushing the air as I walk, feeling the power of this place. The soil pulses and the air hums. Every snaking root, every dewy fiddlehead, every mat of lichens and floating algae speaks to me. I haven’t felt this alive since our kiss at the mountain pond. Haven’t felt this strong since my last spring.
Jack climbs down from the cab and shuts the door. “It suits you,” he says, but the words feel tinged with worry.
“Where are we? I thought we were going to Mexico City.” I’ve lost all sense of place and time. This could easily be Appalachia, late March, back at Jack’s mountain, if it weren’t for the thinness of the air. I’m almost dizzy with it.
“We’re not far. About an hour south of it,” Jack says.
Julio shrugs into a jacket, pale and a little peaked. “It’s hard to breathe.”
“It’s the elevation,” Jack says. “We’re at 9,500 feet. The effects will pass in a few hours.”
I dart an anxious glance at Poppy, listening to her labored breaths. Her face is pale, her lips faintly blue. Jack rests a hand on her shoulder. He juts his chin toward a high ridge above the lake. “Think you can make it?” There’s a playful challenge in his eyes, but under it I sense his unease. When she nods, Jack hauls our gear from the storage compartments under the RV. He pauses over Woody’s backpack, wincing as he unzips it to divide the contents among us—waterproof matches, batteries, a first-aid kit, and a few canned goods—taking only what we can use. He hands me Poppy’s pack without meeting my eyes. “We should get moving. Make camp before dark.”
Jack starts hiking, his shoulders weighed down with gear, casting brief sideways glances at the lake as we walk. I feel the rest of our group fall in behind us, their steps heavy against the earth as we wind through the valley, then up a steep footpath into the woods. Curious, I explore the flora as we hike, slipping my mind into the curling ferns and oaks, pausing over the strange exotic flowers and fungi I’ve never seen. A rabbit darts into the underbrush. I look to the limbs of the trees, desperate for signs of a crow, or even a smaze—for any sign of Gaia. Bees hover close to the flowers, but none look like the ones that inhabited the walls of the Observatory. By now, Chronos and his Guards must have heard about the quake at the border. They’ll have seen reports of our confrontation with the Summers in the desert. It’s only a matter of days, or even hours, before Chronos finds us, but how long until Lyon gets here?
Jack seeks out the high ground, dropping his pack on the mountain face overlooking the lake. The densely wooded ledge offers a distant but clear view of the road. A handful of taillights gleam red as the last of the cars abandon the park before sunset.
Filthy and exhausted, we throw off our gear in piles beside Jack’s, bending over our knees to catch our breath. Chill’s last to crest the hill, carrying Poppy on his back. Her skin’s a sickly shade of gray as he eases her down onto a log to rest.
I stand close as Jack pulls Noelle and Julio aside. “Our group will take the eastern slope. We’ll be able to see Chronos coming from here. Noelle’s team can cover the southern slope tonight. They’ll be safer there.” He checks his watch. Signals for Marie to join them. He juts his chin at Noelle’s sagging, ragtag group. “They’ll need practice working together, fighting in pairs. There’s a clearing just over the ridge—agood place to set up camp. We’ve got a few hours before dark. Might as well make the most of it.”
Noelle and Julio gather the new Seasons and lead them off through the woods. Marie brings up the rear, laying into them like a drill sergeant when Gabriel and Yukio lag behind and start whining about the heat.
Jack’s shoulders are heavy as he watches them go. When they’re gone, he slips his ax through a belt loop on his jeans and wanders off in search of firewood. Amber and I get to work assembling the tents.
“There aren’t enough for everyone. We’ll take shifts. Sleep in pairs,” she says.
Chill unpacks the rest of our supplies, shaking his head as he counts our last remaining cans of food.
“There isn’t enough. We’ve got nine extra mouths to feed.”
I hoist the last tent pole into place as Amber secures the stakes. Wiping my hands, I survey the woods around us. “I saw some rabbits and quail on the hike in. I’ll grab us a little extra to eat.”
I set off in the direction I saw the rabbit run earlier. After a few minutes, the trees thin, and through them I see Noelle’s camp. The grunts and sounds of grappling grow louder as I near it. In the clearing, Julio and Marie have broken the new Seasons into opposing pairs, pushing them through some kind of hand-to-hand sparring exercise that forces them to touch while teaching them to work together. The wind over the mountain shifts erratically, the air thick with the threat of rain as they practice. Jack stands at the far edge of the clearing, watching. Thunder rumbles, but he doesn’t seem concerned. There’s no point in concealing our presence here.
“Get your hands off me!” Julio turns in time to see Gabriel shovehis partner. The Autumn—Aidan, they call him—shoves him back. He sparks a flame.
