Smith - Inked

Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney

Copyright 2015 by Eric Smith

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

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First published in January 2015
by Bloomsbury Spark, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
www.bloomsbury.com

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
available upon request
ISBN 978-1-61963-859-4

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Cover design by Jenny Zemanek

For Nena.
Thank you for bringing magic into my life.

Three days.

My thin leather shoes slapped softly against the dirt leading away from grandmothers cottage as I made my way across our stretch of farmland located at the edge of Frosthaven. With a gentle breeze tickling my skin, I passed through the brambles and bushes full of berries, then to the wide array of fruit-bearing trees in the orchards at the edge of the land. I couldnt help but be aware of the plumes of hazy brown dust as they floated about my feet, wisps circling my ankles as my weight shifted the soil, leaving a trail of dusty clouds in my wake.

I was running away.

The weather was perfect, with the comforting smell of the cool dry air still lingering in the breeze, the wind pushing me forward. I stopped and watched the ribbons of dirt around my feet wither away. I took a deep breath and buried my face in my hands.

It was the smell of autumn, a season that any other year Id welcome with open arms. It was still warm enough to explore the wilderness, venture outside into the fresh sharp air, but cold enough that few did the same, leaving me to my own devices, alone in the woods with the rushing freezing streams hidden beyond them. There were plenty of other upsides too though, in addition to the vibrant color of the forest. There was the warmth of the hearth in my grandmothers kitchen on frigid evenings, and the joy of picking and tasting the final harvest before the Glacialis. These were the things I looked forward to the most, and I couldnt bring myself to enjoy any of them.

Not with my Inking looming.

There was no time for good-byes. I didnt care if I was about to come of age or not. I didnt want to be Inked. To have some magic tattoos telling everyone who I was, what I was, what my future would hold. I packed some supplies, and set off. Inside the medium-sized leather satchel, I carried a bundle of necessities for the road. Dried food from my grandmothers cellar, enough dehydrated berries, jerky, and seeds to last me over a week, but not so much to cause trouble with the stores come the winter. Other necessities included a few tunics crammed into the bottom of the bag, a leather canteen, and a couple of trinkets to remind me of home.

Just because I had to go didnt mean I wanted to leave.

I grabbed my fathers broken pocket watch from deep within the dresser in my bedroom, the gears and springs resting silently inside their shimmering bronze case. I also took one of my grandmothers scarves, a fraying, trailing bit of fabric, the bright shades of berry dye long since faded into pinks and violets.

I walked to the edge of the farm, stepping over the roots of the enormous, ancient trees that jutted out of the earth; the woods were thick, old, and intimidating. There was no gradual rise in foliage, changing from farmland to small shrubs, little trees, and then to wild forest.

Instead it was as if one of the Gods had hurled thousands of million-year-old oaks at the ground from the sky, hammering them into the soil like thick stakes at the edges of Frosthaven. At the border, I looked up at the tall trees, beams of sunlight slicing through the canopy, the light glimmering through the fading leaves like ripples on water. Then I peered into the woods where Dreya and I spent much of our childhood, running, and exploring.

Would she understand? Would I ever be able to come back?

The idea of striking out on my own, venturing somewhere new, didnt bother me all that much. But disappearing without Dreya, and without saying farewell to my grandmother, that gave me pause.

Id at least left Dreya a letter.

Caenum!

I jumped back and tripped over a broken branch, then went tumbling to the ground.

Dreyalla jumped out of nowhere from within the woods, a bundle of flowers packed into a basket slung over her arm. Her tangle of long hair danced madly around her shoulders as she charged toward me while I did my best to scramble away.

Well, well, look who was about to get lost in the woods, Dreya said, smirking while arching an eyebrow.

What are you doing here? I asked. I stood up and brushed the dirt off my pants.

What are you doing here? she insisted, eyes curious, hands on her hips. Did you forget what today was? The Ink tattooed on her arms reacted to her question, the petals and vines twisting upward, as if the flowers wanted to listen.

Her Ink was beautiful that season, with white honeysuckle petals dripping with dew, multicolored nasturtiums that made their way down her forearms, all of which rustled when a breeze licked at her sun-kissed skin. In nature, ivy doesnt really inspire awe as it creeps along forest floors or climbs up trees... but on Dreya, it demanded attention. The red and purple veins twisted up her arm toward the sunlight, stretching up her neck and tucking gracefully behind her ears.

Even then, with Dreya standing there, looking at me curiously, her vines and ivy moving and rustling, I couldnt help but wonder what flowers and greenery would bloom on her next year, or the year after that. Oftentimes, whatever began to bud was the best choice for her familys greenhouse that season.

Ink was like that. Always suggesting and nudging, always spot on.

Which is exactly why it scared me.

I wanted to know myself first.

And as she stood in front of me, glaring at me with that look of playful accusation, I felt the smile vanish from my face.

Seriously, what is it? she asked, taking a step toward me.

Its nothing, I grumbled, I was just heading out to get some more kindling for grandmother.

Caenum, I know you, she said, taking another step. You cant lie to me.

No really, I said, trying my best to maintain an honest tone in my voice, whatever that might be, its nothing. Just you know, out for a walk, clearing my thoughts...

Clearing your thoughts? She took another step, and I moved back, almost tripping over a root growing out of the dirt path. First it was getting kindling, now its clearing your thoughts?