Chapter Three

                                    

                                          
I remove my bow and quiver of arrows from my back, arranging them carefully on the small trunk to my left. Then I throw my cloak over the crude wooden chair situated to the right, pulling my black leather gloves off one finger at a time before tossing them in that general direction, thumb running absentmindedly over the thin silver ring on my right hand. My stomach growled, reminding me that tonight's dinner was to be a celebration, food provided courtesy of Gregory.
                          
So he'd chosen the Leopard tribe, I thought as I fell onto the small pallet in the corner. Lying on my stomach, face buried in the pile of fur I called a pillow, I stayed there until I felt I'd screamed enough. Finally, I sighed and rolled onto my back, stared at the tanned skin ceiling. 
                          
The small, almost hut-like tent wasn't meant to be a permanent home. It hadn't been built for that purpose. There was enough room, barely, for the piled animal-fur bed, the chair, and a storage trunk. 
                          
I was simply supposed to have lived here for a few weeks, a few months, a year at most. That's what the Settlement was for. When the youth of the tribes came of age, they were sent to the Settlement, where they would live until they decided on a tribe. Once a tribe had been decided on, the Winterlandian would need a cloak made of the fur of the animal that represented the tribe he or she had chosen. The hunters would often go out and kill the animal themselves, and, for those that couldn't hunt, the tribe would get together and hunt the animal for them.
                          
Excluding myself and Kenyon, the longest I'd ever seen anyone stay had been three-and-a-half months. Safe to say, I'd been here far longer than that. And Kenyon, he only stayed because I did.

                          
At least, that's what I'd always thought, but I realized I'd never actually asked him, and after the way he'd acted today,  I decided I could be completely off base with that assumption.
                          
I heard the sound of a drum and pushed myself off the floor. It was time for the ceremony. I'd eat, stay long enough to be considered respectful (meaning, I'd stay long enough Kenyon wouldn't expect me to leave), and then I would grab the things I needed to head back out to the wall.
                          
It took longer than it should have to find my gloves, but once I did, I pulled them on. Usually, I told myself that next time I would make sure to place them carefully so that I could easily grab them, but today I skipped that part. I didn't have time for the mantra, and it's not like I ever listened to myself anyway. 
                          
After putting my dark fur cloak to the side, I took a key from around my neck and opened my trunk. I placed my bow and arrows inside, locking it once more before dropping the silver chain back over my head and tucking it away inside my top. Grabbing my cloak, I tossed it over my shoulders and tied the clasp at my neck. 
                          
Stepping outside, I noticed that torches fastened to the tree trunks had already been lit all across the Settlement. Without them, the forest would have been pitch black, and it was true that they gave off the slightest bit of warmth. Not much, but enough that I felt marginally better about not being frozen solid during the night.
                          
My tent was closer to the outskirts of the village, and the ceremony was to take pace in the heart of the Settlement. I began heading that way. 
                          
Someone fell into step next to me, and I knew from the toes of the scuffed brown boots that it was Kenyon.
                          
"Keeping watch on me?" I asked while staring straight ahead.
                          
"Vi," he sighed, "I can't have you going back to the wall."
                          
I continued walking. "Why?" 
                          
"You're just going to have to trust me on this."
                          
I stopped, turning to face him. His dark brown eyes stared into mine. "Why, Kenyon? It's a freaking hole in the wall. That's it." I kept my voice down, whisper screaming at him. "And yet you're here acting like it's the apocalypse and-" I spat the last part out through gritted teeth. "-you won't. Tell. Me. Why." I had to take a deep breath and work my teeth apart before I could continue. "I have known you for eleven years, Kenyon. You've been my best friend for eleven years. What the hell is it that you're not telling me?"
                          
He looked away from me, biting his lip, eyes far away, and I waited with my fists clenched at my sides, toes tapping inside my boot in impatience. When he finally met my gaze again, I knew from his expression that he still wasn't going to tell me his secrets. "Vi, I-"
                          
"Don't," I interrupted him. "Just don't."
                          
I spun around, started stomping towards the center of the Settlement again. I was jerked back when Kenyon's hand wrapped around my wrist. I tugged one good time, but his grip didn't loosen. "What, Kenyon, what's wrong? Just tell me. Please."
                          
"I want to, Vi, really-"
                          
"Then why don't you?"
                          
"Because I can't."
                          
"You can't?"
                          
"No, Vi, I can't, okay? There are . . ." he paused, searching for the proper words, ". . . things."
                          
"Things?" I repeated, incredulous.
                          
"Yes, Vi, things. Why don't you understand?"
                          
"Because you're not making any sense!" I shoved against his chest with one hand.
                          
Reaching up to hold my hand in his, he looked away again, mumbling to himself. "Of course I'm not making any sense." He sighed and, looking back, held both of my hands in his. "Vi, there are some things about me I've never told you. Things that happened before I met you. And this-"
                          
"The hole in the wall?"
                          
He brushed my clarification aside. "Yeah, whatever. But this has to do with my past okay. I can't tell you the why because I'm not allowed to, okay? I really, really want to tell you the why but I can't. I've made promises . . ." He trailed off again. "But, Vi, promise me you won't go back to the wall? Promise me you'll stay safe?"
                          
"Safe from what, Kenyon?" I'd always thought he didn't share his past because it was a horror story, not because he literally thought he couldn't share it.
                          
He solemnly shook his head. "I can't tell you anything else, Vi, I've already told you too much." 
                          
"You haven't told me anything!" I protested.
                          
"Just, promise me, okay?"
                          
I didn't want to promise him, didn't want to say the words I knew I'd go back on. I knew what I said to him didn't matter. I was going to make my way back to the wall. But I knew that if I didn't say them, he wouldn't relent, would probably follow me every second of every day. So, I lied. I promised him anyway, selfishly hoping he would believe me and relax. "I promise, okay, Kenyon? I promise not to go back to the wall."
                          
His shoulders relaxed, but only slightly, and I knew I'd have to use the rest of the night to convince him I was telling the truth even though I wasn't.
                          
"Let's just go to the celebration, alright? Let's go forget this afternoon." I said, looping my arm in his. 
                          
He nodded, and we both began walking together. "That sounds good, Vi," he said and smiled at me.
                          
I tried to smile back. Sounds could be deceiving.