CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Dean Scythe
I hate to admit it, but when dawn came on the Compound, and I woke up to find the Prairie Dog girl, Bess, sleeping in the grass at my feet, I felt no easier about my decision to leave. She had saved me, like it or not. She wasn't interested in scolding me for our shared past and, in fact, she had made a point to wipe the past clean and declare us even. Her dad, though, had made a point of not wanting me here and he seemed like trouble waiting to strike. I had a talent for discovering trouble when it presented itself, and I knew he'd be it when he discovered me. I was thankful it was by cover of night and that his lantern wasn't quite capable of revealing me to him completely. Partial recognition was dangerous too. Anyway, it was my plan all along to get up and move on as early as I could, because in the light of day, full recognition was too possible to be risked. I got up quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping girl at my feet. Just as carefully, I rolled up my pack and pillow, tied the belt around them and was carefully walking to the mule shed for the horse when I stumbled upon the older girl, Moxie. She was blocking my way, her arms folded across her body, and she was wearing a smug look – one which I felt for sure I would always see her with.
"Your horse is gone. How are you going to get away now?" I jumped at the sight of her, and then frowned at her words.
"What?" She stood back and revealed that the horse was gone, in fact, just as she'd said. I threw down my pack in frustration. "Dammit! What did you do?"
"Hey!" She shot back, her hands in the air. "I didn't do anything! Remember, I didn't want you here in the first place."
"Yeah," I said angrily. "Well guess what? Now you're stuck with me!" I was pissed.
"Hey, anytime you want to start walking back to the Ranches, feel free." I scowled at her, and then dropped down to the pack and dropped my head into my hands. This was not good. I hoped she was enjoying herself, basking in my misery. I had no idea what to do next. What if her dad came out and saw me now? I'd rather be dead than go back to the Ranches. Finally, I lifted my head up, saw her still standing there with her arms crossed, and I decided I'd just have to start running. I couldn't do anything else. If the cowboys knew I was gone – and they would soon enough – I'd have to put plenty of distance between me and them to be free. I got up abruptly and grabbed my pack off the ground.
"Fine. I'm gone." I said at the girl called Moxie, spitefully. Off I went, away from the Compound and out into the open plains. I thought I heard Bess talking to the girl called Moxie, but I couldn't stop now, no matter how grateful I was to her. Soon, the cowboys would be up and figuring out I was gone.
"Wait!" I definitely heard Bess calling out behind me but I shook my head and picked up my pace. At some point I figured they weren't following me anymore, so I slowed down and gave myself the chance to breathe and think. Who stole my horse? Who would want to keep me here? For a terrible moment, I wondered if it was Bess, but then I decided it wasn't because she was still sleeping at dawn. The other girl, the one called Moxie, she might have done it, except she wanted me gone. If she'd taken the horse, that would have been counter to her desires. So, who? I turned around and looked over my shoulder at the Compound, now looking pretty far away. Life was starting to stir with morning activity, and I could see how all the Prairie Dogs helped each other with their morning rituals in some way or another. I saw how homey it could have been for me if I had chosen to stay. I couldn't stay. Neither could I afford to linger now. It hadn't been close to an hour since I started out and I wasn't too far away in that amount of time. The Reserve was still so close: too close for my comfort. I turned and looked forward to the plains and the land that stretched out before me. The most defining feature of it all was the dull green sea of grass everywhere I looked. I figured at some point in my journey I would likely go crazy from seeing so much of the same darn thing, but that was a problem that couldn't be helped. The next most defining feature was a great old tree a few paces from me, by all accounts dead but still standing. I wandered to it and felt the dry, dusty bark. It was smooth to the touch, but it was definitely too dry. It was an impressive creation, dyed a few hues of black like charcoal, but also maintaining its natural dried brown colors. It was impressive that it stood all by itself, too, like a great beacon amidst a dull see of dried green. Beyond it was the rest of the plains.
I pushed myself off from the tree and headed westward, putting the rising sun at my back for now. As I pushed from the tree's trunk, though, a hand-sized swatch of bark broke off and fell to the feet of the tree. Feeling compelled to respect the majesty of the tree, I picked it up and placed it back over the mouth of the hollow beneath it. It wasn't a perfect fit: anyone would know it was replaced there after being broken off just by looking at it, but somehow I had a feeling that this was how it was supposed to happen. I looked forward and up, not sure of where I was going exactly, knowing only that I could not remain here. In the early morning sun, there were more definable features to the plains than just its grass: the edge of District 10 could be imagined based on how the sun struck the infamous fence I had followed with Thatcher so many years before this. Also, the plains were not entirely flat as I had once thought they were; they dipped and rose, slightly but enough to keep me sane for now, and to the very extreme northwestern corner of the District, it was easy to see the black-reddish-orange tint of the wall of a canyon. How deep it dropped was the matter of guesswork for me, but if it was deep enough to conceal a boy of fourteen with weathered skin, I clenched my jaw and turned my gaze and my feet in its direction. There might be caves, there might be caverns, there might be anything in that canyon, and with every fresh step, I discovered how okay I was with the possibility of a canyon hideaway. At any rate, folks were pretty anxious about the canyon by the way I heard it from them at the Ranches, and for once I was glad for the Hunger Games – which by any other scenario would appear to be the very tool of the Capitol used to destroy me, but in this scenario had suddenly become the very weapon by which I planned to be saved. Irony, I thought as I hoisted my pack up on my shoulders and set off.