more tonight."
She grimaced when she saw the shelter and stepped forward to touch the wood. The slats were held fast in the frozen ground, and their tops were bound tightly together. His father had done well by them.
When she looked back, her face was drawn, emphasizing her delicate features.
"Do you remember," she said, "how the three of us would play our games?"
Nathaniel forced a smile. "Yes. You'd always set the rules."
"I did not."
"Thomas, you'd say, go off to the right and Nathaniel, to the left." He mimicked her voice. "I'll stay here and count to ten, saying one Little Pond, two Little Pond, which should give you plenty of time.'"
"Well maybe. But you and Thomas would always argue with me."
"And that's why we came up with the Pact of the Ponds. We'd form a circle and cover our hearts."
He placed his right hand over his heart and thrust his left in front, then gestured for her to do the same.
"It won't work," she said. "We need three to form a circle."
"Then let's pretend Thomas is here."
At first, she glared at him. When he continued to insist, she gave in, covering her heart and grasping his wrist.
"Pact of the Ponds," he said weakly. "No more arguments and the game will begin."
She yanked her hand away. "But this is no game. Something terrible is happening to Thomas. I can sense his loneliness and fear, even at a distance. Do you believe that?"
Nathaniel recalled how she seemed able to read his thoughts.
"It's possible. For friends since birth."
"Isn't there anything we can do? Your father's an elder. What does he say?"
The shame from that morning rushed back. Nathaniel told her what happened, and she had the same questions.
"In what way will he change?"
"My father couldn't say. Maybe sadder."
"A sadder Thomas? What a horrible thought. Why didn't you press for more?"
"I tried. I don't know why he wouldn't tell. But I said things I never should have said. Since Thomas was taken, we're all in a foul mood." He glanced at the hut skeleton and had a thought. "Why don't we cover the shelter now, you and I? It'll cheer us up and be a pleasant surprise when Thomas returns."
The outrage Orah had bottled up came to a boil. "Our special ceremony without Thomas? How could you think such a thing? He's gone less than two weeks and you'd forget him?"
Nathaniel's head snapped back. First him to his father, and now Orah to him. The world had gone awry. He'd been angry with his father for one of the few times in his life. He'd never been angry with Orah.
"It's the Temple fault. They had to interfere. It's the vicars with their rules and ceremonies."
"You mustn't say such things."
"Why not? No one's listening."
"Because the Temple protects us from the darkness." She recited from the book of light, a verse the elders used to admonish children. " Beware the stray thought. Like water dripping on rock, it can erode the strongest mind and open a path for the darkness. "
"I don't even know what the darkness is."
"The darkness is the time before the light, a time of chaos and death."
He took a step toward her. "That's what we learned in school. But what is it really? You're the smartest person I know. Can you tell me what the darkness really is?"
She let him come closer, an arm's length apart, but remained silent for a long time. When she replied, her anger was gone.
"Yes, Nathaniel, I can tell you. The darkness is when a son hurts the father he loves, when friends are separated and when harsh words are spoken between those who care the most about each other." Her expression hardened; the delicate features were gone. "If the Temple ordains we be vigilant, so be it. By that meaning, I swear the darkness will never return."
Strong words had narrowed their vision, so they saw each other as through a tunnel. When the moment passed, Nathaniel noticed cold on his cheeks.
A light snow had begun to fall.
Chapter Five
Festival
As festival approached, Orah came to believe Nathaniel had been right. Covering the Not
Aiden James, Patrick Burdine
David Stuckler Sanjay Basu