Page 41 of Born Savage

Prophecies. He had a gift that I didn’t envy. I’d heard he’d been partially responsible for warning the previous civilization of the impending doom. Many had called him crazy, acting as if his words regarding the future were simply ramblings and nothing more.

Yet some had taken him seriously, which was why preparations had been made. He rarely talked about those days, but when he did, I listened.

“What do the Freedom Hunters know? They are nothing more than bootlicking followers.”

He seemed surprised I’d used such a term, knowing it was one I’d heard from his mouth and no one else. Rarely did he spew anger and never in a blasphemous way, but to him, the criticism was the worst thing he could say about another. His smile reminded me of why I adored him with all my heart.

“While you are right about the hunters, people fear what provides them with the truth and a picture of their future, whether positive or negative.”

Shrugging, I studied his hands, realizing they were shaking. Another reminder of how old the people living in our village were.

He set the mug in front of me, along with a surprise. A lemon. His smile while watching my shock as I realized he’d managed the unthinkable, propagating fruit was just as joyful as the scent.

“You did it!” I jumped up, throwing my arms around him.

“I thought you’d be happy, child.” Peter patted me on the back, chuckling the entire time. I’d watched him attempting to do so for years, but not just with lemons. He tried other fruits as well, shrubs and flowers that had been decimated by the fallout. Most of the protected seeds and grafts had been something he’d carried with him his modest home at the start of the war. He’d been one of the lucky ones, a number chosen at random for a place of safety inside one of several hundred bunkers. He’d seen winning the lottery as a burden instead of a gift, horrified that only a select few from out of hundreds of millions had been chosen.

It had been his cross to bear to provide education and rebuild as much of the amazing aspects of the past as possible. In my eyes, he’d fulfilled his self-imposed duties.

As soon as he backed away, he produced a knife. “Will you do the honors of making the first cut?”

I don’t know why but my hand was shaking as I accepted the implement. This was a true honor, much like that of caring for the plants from time to time. Even before I sliced the lemon, the pungent odor was perhaps the most incredible scent I’d ever experienced. Yet the moment I sliced through the flesh, tears formed from joy.

“Oh, child, it’s quite alright.”

Somehow, I’d managed to cut it in perfect sections, one matching another. “May I?”

“Of course. Just remember, they are not sweet, but the juice will be excellent in your tea.”

As soon as I darted my tongue across the flesh, my noise wrinkled. “Wow.”

“I told you.” He took a piece into his fingers, savoring the scent while I dared nip a tiny bite.

My eyes watered for a completely different reason. “Oh, my. That’s very…”

“Sour. Lemons are the perfect definition of a sour fruit.” A lesson I would not soon forget.

He finally sat down opposite me, still watching as I squeezed another hunk into my tea.

“Thank you for such an amazing gift,” I told him.

“If only I had more to give you, child.”

Leaning over the table, I offered him one of my goofy looks that usually made him laugh.

Not today.

Today was a somber day. I could feel it in the air, a dense, almost stagnant sensation that was more foreboding than usual.

“You give me so much and always have, Peter. I would never be able to thank you.”

He took a sip of his tea, contemplating as always. “The child is a healer.”

Peter had been the one to mention their foretelling, a myth that only a few soothsayers believed. The aging man’s capabilities had been proven time and time again. “Yes, I believe so.”

“She was sent to you.” A few seconds later, he lifted his chin, waiting to see my reaction.

“Why?”