With only the kindness of strangers and the draw of the city to guide her, Kestrel meandered through Mutiny Bay.
Its vivacity was quickly healing the dull ache of her mortified heart. Kestrel had always known the desert to be a drab and barren place, but Mutiny Bay managed to breathe life into it that she hadn’t expected. It was far from the picture of desolation Thom had painted of the Wilds. The buildings here were made from plain, cream-colored bricks, but what really brought them to life were the colorfully patchworked awnings that hung above every doorway. They swept across the sky likerainbows, and Kestrel craned her neck to take in every one. If the awnings weren’t captivating enough, the painted vases that sat outside homes captured her as well—and then sometimes the homes and buildings themselves were also bejeweled in color. Nearly every street Kestrel walked down had a different mosaic on the walls or even the ground itself, entire scenes of desert flora and sunsets pieced together by tiny shards of broken, painted ceramics that sent her heart fluttering.
Everything was so vivid and beautiful.
And seeing it all, all this color and vibrancy, it made her even more excited to find Thom and share this experience with him.
By now, Kestrel had reasoned that he had probably stumbled upon this place after enduring some troubles on the road, and what a sight for sore eyes it must’ve been. Kestrel imagined they’d taken him somewhere to treat his wounds, a place called the Stinging Drip—a name that conjured for her both the danger of a viper, and the medicinal uses of its venom.
Once she found the Stinging Drip—and with any luck Thom inside it—everything would be right again. Then she could put all memory of this dreadful journey, as well as Leighton and his intruding brothers, out of her head for good.
Finding this place was proving more difficult than she imagined though.
Every time Kestrel stopped to ask for directions, the people giving them seemed more reluctant to do so. They were skeptical. Notofher, butforher, she realized. It made her worry about just how serious Thom’s injuries must’ve been.
Kestrel steeled herself for the worst, just as she rounded a dark corner.
Everything was dimmer down this street. At first, Kestrel thought it was because there were fewer awnings and mosaics to brighten the place up. But the darkness kept thickening.
Kestrel tilted her head to the clouds and watched as the black curtain of night was drawn over the sky.
Dread settled in her gut like a brick. She knew all too well what plagued the desert cities at nightfall.
The scourge.
That’s what she and Thom called it, the horde of enlarged and bloodthirsty locusts, beetles, and various other horrendous insects that would ravage an entire town in seconds.
Every now and then, the scourge would wander as far as her coastline, and Kestrel would spend the entirety of the dark hours huddled under her bed as the large insects rammed themselves against the tower, skittered up the exterior walls, the buzzing of their wings a call of death.
The first time they came while Thom was away. At the next glimpse of sunlight, Thom had barged through the front door, eyes wide as he frantically searched for her.
That was the day he told her about them. How they were the deadliest monstrosity in the Wilds, due to their sheer numbers alone. They migrated from one corner of the desert to the next, in no real discernible pattern, so he never knew where they would venture next. And anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their swarm would be nothing but bones by the time the scourge was done with them.
Kestrel had come too far to be turned to bones now.
Just because it was dark though, didn’t mean the scourge would come here. There was still a small chance they were preoccupied somewhere else. Still, the people of Mutiny Bay weren’t willing to take the chance. On the streets behind her, Kestrel listened as everyone shuffled back inside to the safety of their homes or whatever buildings were closest. Doors were barred and windows bolted.
If the drab road had been uninviting before, now that she stood on it alone it looked downright haunted.
No one remained outside but her.
In the distance, Kestrel thought she detected the faintest buzzing.
Her pale skin pebbled. Fear shook her to her core as she began racing down the street, searching for some place to hide. The dark gaps between the buildings were gaping, ravenous maws ready to swallow her whole should she stumble inside them.
She banged on every closed door, but none opened.
She called out for help, but no one replied.
Still, Kestrel kept running. Kept searching. Surely, there had to be some place where she would be safe.
She eyed an empty barrel, but worried the cracks would be too easy for giant pincers to break. There was a half-full trough of who-knew-what that she could plunge into as well, but there was no telling how long she’d have to hold her breath, let alone if any of the scourge might be desperate enough to devour the contents inside just to find her submerged underneath like a tasty treat.
Kestrel came to dead end, with only a dark and broken building at the end of the street. The wooden sign out front was barely hanging on, and as she approached, she saw the only letters visible in dulled black ink read:The S-ing D-ip.
Her heart sang. She’d found it.
Kestrel was about to knock, when the door cracked open, and a stout man peered outside.
