Dust

XIV

It's the night of Jeremiah's said "test."

The past five days or so had been spent working Gael down to a pulp, making sure he is as prepared as he can be. Damien and I are going to be with him tonight, but we can't protect him from everything. We're hoping the element of surprise will be to our benefit: As far as Jeremiah is aware of, Gael is coming to the forest tonight on his own. That's what we want him to know.

Damien secures a strap across his shirt, sliding a few blades into the scabbards. Guns go to his hips, another sheathed knife goes on his ankle, and a gleam of determination sets in the crimson of his eyes. I begin to arm myself as I would for any other mission; a few of which I have had earlier this week, but none of which are as important as this.

"Where's Gael?" Damien asks, bending down to tighten the laces on his boots. "The sun's almost completely set; we need to go."

"I know," I reply, tossing my cloak around my shoulders. "I'm going to find him."

Damien nods, and I head out of the training arena. Mother and Finn are both on the couch, Finn fast asleep in her lap. She looks up at me as I reach the top of the stairs. "Going out at night again, are you?"

I cringe, approaching her. The television is on some boring soap opera channel; I don't have to face it to know the acting is horrible and the plot is cliché. I drop a kiss on my little brother's forehead, and embrace my mother. "I'm sorry, Mother, but I have to. If I don't..."

"It's your job," Mother tells me as I pull back. There's a small smile on her face that I wish was wider, but my mother will never be too happy to send me off to fight. "I understand, Gemma."

"I..." I smile at her and give her, too, a peck on the forehead. The hilt of my father's blade brushes Finn's side as I lean over him, and he stirs, but doesn't open his eyes. I brush my hand across his cheek, staring down at him in admiration. "I love you both," I say. "I'll be back. I promise."

"Please be careful," Mother says, and I just smile at her and continue my search for Gael.

It takes a few minutes of searching through every room in the house before I find him. He's outside on the porch, braced against the railing, his eyes on the setting sun. Damien has lent him another ensemble of protective gear, but he is still weaponless. "Gael," I say, coming up and standing beside him. He glances at me with a meek smile. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Oh," Gael replies. "Is it time to go?"

I start to answer with a simple yes before I analyze the situation further. He's outside, alone, not even prepared yet, and his voice sounds more solemn than it usually does. It appears I've caught him in one of his moods. "Is everything okay with you, Gael? Are you thinking about your home again?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's not that—"

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing, Gem. Nothing."

I punch him in the arm, hard enough to catch his attention. He rubs his bicep, looking at me as if I've betrayed him. "What was that for?" he groans.

"It was for being such a horrible liar," I say. "Come on, Gael. You can tell me."

He pauses, then just exhales heavily and looks at me. There's a flush along his cheeks, for a reason I'm not sure of. "I'm scared, I guess. I'm just...trying to make peace with the fact that I might die tonight."

I stop. The thought makes me feel something strange; years ago, before I started training with my father, Mother had warned me that hunting was a dangerous profession, that I could be hurt or killed. I have never, however, let that fact scare me; it is a fact all hunters know, but it's part of the job, and I have long since accepted it. For this reason, I am taken aback at Gael's sentence, until I ponder it further.