Rise of the Sparrows Read online

  The villagers were scared of her? All she did was dream!

  "I hoped you'd understand." Cephy hugged herself, and cried. Rachael had never seen such a pitiful creature, but the past few days had been a good time for firsts.

  Rachael sat back down next to her and pulled the girl into her arms. She held her so tightly that Cephy couldn't have got away if she'd wanted to.

  "I do understand. I think. But how did you do that?”

  "I don't know! I just do!"

  All Rachael could think of was to hold Cephy until her crying stopped.

  "I want to stay with you. Can I? Please? You're the only one who understands!"

  Rachael was about to nod and say yes, when a sharp pain exploded inside her body. The bad feeling in her gut was much worse than it had been before, but its message was clear. For reasons she couldn't see, Cephy was a danger to her. For reasons she didn't understand, Cephy had something to do with that dream.

  As much as she wanted to help the girl, she couldn't. She hated the idea of Cephy feeling as lonely and unwanted as she had all her life, but she feared that place from her dream even more.

  "No."

  "Why?" Cephy's voice was as quiet as the falling snow around them. "I thought you understood."

  "I do. But I- I just-" Rachael sighed, hoping her excuse would be good enough. "I already can't find enough food for myself. I have no proper shelter, just this blanket. You'll be better off without me. Find one of the groups, they'll look after you." Rachael sought her eye contact to show her that she meant it, and found it just in time to see her eyes glaze over with the same acceptance she had felt herself so often. Cephy's last hope shattered somewhere inside of her. Rachael was the reason that hope was gone.

  "I see." Cephy got up, and began to walk away without turning around again. "Keep the bread. I'll get a new one tomorrow." Rachael wanted to say something to stop her, but every time she opened her mouth her stomach twisted itself in painful knots, making it difficult for her to breath normally.

  Only when Cephy was out of sight did the pain leave her body, forcing Rachael to breathe rapidly in an attempt to fill her lungs with air again.

  She hated herself for having abandoned Cephy like that. She'd had a chance to spare someone the same loneliness she had suffered for so long, and she had refused it. It wasn't right, but what other options did she have? She had never experienced a reaction like that to anyone before.

  Rachael sat back down, staring at the alley Cephy had disappeared into and wishing she would come back. The fire Cephy had created was still burning strong, despite the snow which was getting heavier by the minute.

  Knowing it wouldn't be enough to keep the chill from her bones she wrapped herself in her blanket, and tried to push Cephy out of her mind.

  Chapter Five

  A week went by without any sign of Cephy. It seemed she knew how to become one with the shadows, and Rachael was grateful for it. If Cephy knew how to hide and move unnoticed, she had a better shot at staying alive.

  She couldn't figure out why her body had reacted the way it did to the little girl. What danger could she really pose to her? They were both underfed, but Rachael was taller and was experienced at surviving, whereas Cephy reminded her of a helpless animal.

  The dream, at least, had not come back. Neither had that horrible feeling. Whatever it had been, Rachael wondered if it had been a one-off warning not to trust Cephy. Maybe it had nothing to do with the girl at all and Rachael was wrong, but there was also a chance that it hadn't happened again because Cephy wasn't near her.

  Rachael had been wandering the streets as she always did, keeping an eye out for a little silhouette hiding in the shadows, but there hadn't been any sign of Cephy. All the other orphans and children were where they always were, but Cephy was nowhere to be seen. Wherever Cephy was hiding, it was working.

  And even though she sometimes caught herself wishing she could talk to her again, she was grateful that she didn't see her. It made staying away from her so much easier.

  A guilty feeling settled in her stomach. Despite the pain Rachael wasn't convinced that she really wanted to stay away from the girl. She was good at being alone, and had thought she had accepted that nothing would change. Talking to Cephy had made her long for a friend again for the first time since she was a child. Rachael had worried that Cephy wouldn't be all right in this town on her own, but the girl's ability to hide had proven her wrong. If it wasn't for the small presents she received every day, Rachael would have wondered if Cephy was dead.

  Every time Rachael came back from her walk through the town, she found half a loaf of bread waiting for her. Sometimes it was still warm, and due to the heavy snowfall most days there were never any footprints in the snow. She couldn't tell where Cephy had gone, but Rachael knew that it was her. No one else had ever been so generous to her.

  Rachael had tried to ignore it at first. She felt bad for eating the bread after she had refused Cephy's wish to stay with her, but after a few days of not finding any food at all the hunger had convinced her otherwise. She was in no position to waste food, whether she felt guilty eating it or not. Homeless orphans like her didn't get to be picky.

  And then, one day, she heard it. It was getting dark outside, the sun was casting the town in a pretty orange light, and everyone was on their way home, when a faint whimpering reached Rachael.

  Usually she left crying children alone since there was nothing she could do for them, but this time her feet urged her onwards. She eventually found Cephy in a small alley, curled up on the floor and quietly sobbing into a small doll Rachael hadn't noticed on her before.

  Rachael wanted to turn around, remembering the clear warning her body had given her before, but she didn't feel anything but pity this time. Hesitating, she approached the small girl, unsure of what to say when she finally reached her.

  “Cephy?” Rachael wanted to reach out and hold her, but she couldn't allow herself to get too attached. Most young orphans didn't survive their first winter. If she got close to her now it would only make the inevitable harder later.

  But Cephy didn't even seem to hear her. The sound of her voice hadn't had any effect on the girl, so Rachael moved closer.

  If Cephy still didn't react then she would go away and leave her to it.

  “Cephy?” The girl turned away from her, hugging the doll to her chest as if her life depended on it. “Can you hear me?” Cephy was shaking. Whether it was because of the cold or something else, she couldn't tell.

  Rachael began to turn around since Cephy didn't answer, when she noticed something. A weak ray of light lit up her face just enough for Rachael to see what she had missed before.

  Cephy was bleeding. And even though Rachael couldn't see any obvious injuries, she could see bruises all over the small body.

  Chapter Six

  Rachael wanted to turn around. This was none of her business—children died on the streets all the time, especially during winter. Likely someone had tried to rob her and when they saw that she had nothing worth taking, they had beaten her. Or worse.

  She knew better than to get involved, but this time was different. This time she knew the girl.

  Slowly, so as not to startle her even more, she sat down next to Cephy, and carefully took her face into her hands and turned it towards her. The girl tried to resist at first, but Rachael was stronger. She hoped Cephy would calm down once she saw that it was Rachael, and not her attackers who had come back for more.

  “Cephy. It's me, see? It's all right. What happened?” Cephy's eyes focused on Rachael, and through slow, ragged breaths her body relaxed. Her eyes were wide, and gentle tremors caused by her crying still shuddered through her, but Rachael could tell that Cephy was relieved to see it was her and not whoever had done this. “What happened? Who did this?”

  “My father.” Acting on instinct and hoping that she wasn't hurting Cephy more in the process, she pulled the girl into her arms and hel
d her. Somewhere at the back of her mind she seemed to remember someone holding her like this once, stroking her hair for comfort, so Rachael did the same.

  “Your father did this to you?”

  Cephy nodded. “Me and my mother.” She was still shaking, but her voice had calmed down.

  “Why did he do that?”

  “Because he found out that mummy left me her baked bread every day, while he was at work.” That explained how she had been able to spare so much. Her mother had been feeding her, in secret, ever since her father had kicked her into the streets like an unwanted dog. Now that he had found out what had been going on behind his back, he had had to assert his authority.

  Rachael felt ill at the picture Cephy was giving her of her father. What kind of man raised a girl with love, and then abandoned her like this?

  She had learned never to make assumptions. She didn't know if he had been a good father until now, or if there hadn't been some other reason Cephy wasn't telling her about.

  “I'm sorry.” Life was hard on the street, when you were on your own. It was cruel that she had been treated like this, but in the long run it would make it easier for her. It wasn't every day that food was just handed to you when you were one of the strays. Maybe now Cephy could learn to look after herself, rather than have someone else do it for her. Maybe now she wouldn't ask the impossible of Rachael.

  Maybe now she would understand that you only had a chance of survival in this world if you stood alone.

  “They don't love me. Father doesn't, and mummy doesn't, either. And you don't want me, either!” This time Rachael was truly lost for words. How could she argue with something like this? After how this man had treated his daughter?

  There was only one thing that came to mind, and Rachael wasn't convinced that it wouldn't make things worse. Seeing the light dim behind Cephy's eyes made the decision for her. “Your mother loves you. She gave you bread every day, right? Fresh bread, still warm. Every day. Because of her, you-”

  “They are replacing me.” Rachael found it odd that a voice as tiny as this could interrupt her so easily. “My mother. They are having another child. When father beat me and mummy I heard my brothers say that it's to replace me, because I was a failure.” There was nothing Rachael could say to make Cephy's pain go away. For a small moment she wondered if this was why she was alone, if her parents had abandoned her when she had had her first dream promising death. If her mother had left her the blanket as Cephy's mother had left her the bread. But then she remembered that she knew nothing about her parents, and that she had been alone for as long as she could think.

  Whatever reasons her parents had had for leaving her, it had nothing to do with this curse. Likely they had struggled for food like everyone else, and leaving a young child behind to starve had been the easiest option.

  She knew she'd regret it but there was something she could say to Cephy, after all. Something that she knew would make her feel better.

  “Cephy...” She prepared herself for the wave of pain coursing through her body as it had the last time, but nothing happened. The only pain she felt was the one that already existed, and she decided that what she had felt last time must have been empathy for Cephy. For the situation they were both in. For how similar they were.

  Rachael, the girl who dreamed of death, and Cephy, the girl who could set anything on fire simply by wishing it.

  They only had each other. Was it really so wrong to hold on to that?

  In her arms Cephy had become numb. Her bloodshot eyes wide open, the girl merely stared at the snow in front of them.

  “Cephy.” Rachael tried again. “If you want to stay with me, you can.” Her words had an immediate effect on Cephy. Her eyes grew even wider than before, darting up towards Rachael, searching for any signs that she was lying. When she found none, she threw her arms around Rachael and held on to her so tightly Rachael was worried she might have difficulty breathing.

  “Thank you! You won't regret it!” Rachael hoped that Cephy was right.

  Chapter Seven

  The sudden explosion of fire and smoke filled every corner of her consciousness before she could comprehend what was happening. There were panicked screams everywhere, and her vision blurred.

  “What have you d-” His accusing voice was silenced by a falling wooden plank, its fire shielding her from his glare.

  Terrified, she turned around. The door stood open, but could she just leave? Could she leave everyone she loved behind in this mess she had started?

  This was her fault. If she left now, every accusation he had thrown at her would become true. Her being a monster. His reasons for throwing her into the street like unwanted leftovers.

  Everything would have been justified.

  She spun around again, determined to go back for her mother, when the cupboard on the other end of the room exploded. The very same cupboard where her mother stored the lamp oil.

  Barely aware of what was happening, she fell to the ground, tackled into a white-hot deafness by the sudden force of the blast. The screaming had ceased, but then everything else had, too. Around her the flames were consuming everything, but the silence was just as maddening.

  With a terrible ringing in her ears she noticed that she was closer to the door. The blast must have thrown her across the room.

  There was only one thing she could do now. Run. The rest of the house was unreachable to her, and her hearing was slowly returning. She didn't want to hear the screaming again.

  Ignoring the pain in her back and ankle she leapt for the door, opening it with the bit of strength she had left and stumbling into the cool snow and onto the street. A crowd had gathered to observe the flames and, seeing her leave the building alone, they put two and two together.

  Her hearing wasn't good enough yet for her to hear the insults and accusations her old neighbours threw at her. She didn't need to hear them, either. She doubted that they could say anything to her that she wasn't already saying to herself. Her father had been an unmoving heap on the floor last she'd seen him. Her mother was trapped in the attic nursery, trying to save the twins.

  Their accusations weren't necessary for her to know what fate she had likely left her family to.

  Her legs gave in, and she sank to the ground. Her arms went up around her ears, anticipating the return of her hearing, and she let her tears flow unhindered as she rocked herself into madness.

  Rachael woke up, drenched in sweat. She'd had two vivid dreams now since she had met Cephy, and both dreams had left her feeling panicked. While that in itself wasn't unusual, the frequency of her dreams was. Often months passed between dreams. This time it had been days.

  It was too late for doubts. Cephy stayed with her now, and Rachael didn't have the heart to send her away again. Had someone offered her the same chance she had offered the girl she knew she would have been grateful, if not suspicious. Cephy hadn't lived on the streets for long enough yet to feel the same paranoia.

  She filled her fists with snow to wake herself up and to get rid of her lingering doubt. She didn't know that her dreams were connected to Cephy. It was a coincidence, nothing else. The idea that the girl had anything at all to do with it was impossible.

  As much as she tried, Rachael couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on. That something was shifting. Something out of her control, but involving her nonetheless. That she couldn't figure out the details was as frustrating as her situation in the nightmare had been.

  Tired, Rachael took a look around, squinting in the weak light as her eyes adjusted. It was still dark outside. The blanket, which she had wrapped around herself in a hopeless attempt to stay warm, was covered in a thin layer of fresh snow.

  Her eyes moved across from her to the spot Cephy had claimed as hers, but it was empty. Her side of the blanket had been slept in, Rachael could tell as much, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.

  Confused, Rachael got up. Unlike her, Cephy didn't wake
easily. She didn't startle at the slightest sound, like Rachael did. There was no reason for her to be up at this hour. It was unlike her to stray far from Rachael even during the day. In the short amount of time they had spent together, Rachael had figured out that Cephy didn't like the dark. Odd sounds didn't scare her as much as the shadows between buildings, which the faint moonlight always seemed to breathe life into.

  The sound of her bare feet in the snow seemed unnaturally loud. Something was wrong, but Rachael couldn't figure out what. She felt sick and her stomach was twisting into knots, but she did her best to focus.

  A week had passed since Rachael had found Cephy sobbing and bruised. Since then Rachael had insisted that Cephy recover from the shock and her injuries, while Rachael herself went out to find food. It had been obvious how shaken the girl was, and since Rachael was faster on her own Cephy hadn't objected. She was young and not yet used to her new life, but she was clever. She knew it made more sense this way and had agreed after having given it a moment of thought.

  Maybe Cephy had decided that she had recovered enough, after all. Maybe she had gone out to find food, to make up for staying behind while Rachael was out searching for anything edible.

  Rachael wanted to go back to her blanket, but something moved her away from it. Blackrock wasn't safe at night, especially for someone as fragile and trusting as Cephy.

  “Cephy?” The darkness seemed to swallow her voice whole. When no one answered, Rachael got worried.

  She moved around another corner. No wonder something had felt off. The smell hit her nose hard, and even though she hadn't witnessed one often she knew what this was.

  There was a fire. Her eyes shot up between the buildings. Thick, grey clouds smothered the night sky, lit by the pale orange glow of the nearby flames. The fire was close.