The First Week

On the third morning after the impact, Holt wrote the word FOREST on the board. He did it without introduction, as though nothing had happened between the last lesson and that morning that deserved a different beginning. Through the window, the upper edge of the barrier was visible. Pale dust was still rising from the crater beyond it, even though it had rained during the night.

Mara's place stood empty beside me. No one had asked whether it should be removed. Even the students who usually threw their bags onto empty desks left it untouched.

“After the second lesson, you will go to the first forest ring,” Holt said. “Silver moss, clear resin, and two glowcaps. No deep paths. You remain within sight of the markers.” Bren raised his head. His sleeve had been mended where one of the root creatures had bitten through it. “The chapel has not even been cleared yet.”

Holt put down the chalk. “No.”

“And we are supposed to go collecting?”

“You are supposed to learn how to move again.”

Elias“Some of us may not want to yet,” I said.

Several students looked at me. Holt did not answer at once, and that brief wait bothered me more than disagreement would have. “I believe you. The forest does not ask.”

“Then it can wait.”

“It has waited long enough.”

I looked at the empty chair. “Mara is dead, and everyone here is acting as though we only missed a day of lessons.” Nera lowered her eyes to her notebook. Senn had hidden his hands beneath the desk. Bren looked out of the window, towards the place where the wind lifted the cloth around the barrier.

“No one is acting that way,” Holt said. “I am not sending you back to the same place. I am sending you back to one another.”

I nearly laughed. Not because it was funny. “That worked brilliantly last time.”

Darian Holt“That is why you are trying again today.”

After the second lesson, we stood before the low stone wall. The groups did not properly form. Some students simply walked faster while others fell behind. Nera carried the list, Senn the cloth bags, and Bren walked ahead, kicking every second stone. I stayed several paces behind them.

We found the silver moss quickly on a damp rock face. Nera loosened it with the tip of her knife, Senn checked the underside for black larvae, and Bren cut off so much that half of it fell from his bag again. “Slower,” Nera said. “It is moss.” “And you still manage to fight with it.”

They kept arguing until Senn stopped. No one noticed immediately. Only at the next bend did I look back and see him beside a fallen trunk. He held one hand over his mouth. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes searched between the trees for something only he could see.

A piece of black stone lay behind the trunk, barely larger than a fist. A carved line ran along one edge. It reminded me of the sign above the chapel. For a moment, I heard the silence before the impact again, when even the flags had stopped moving.

Bren crouched and reached out. “Is that one of the fragments?”

Elias“Do not touch it.”

“I was not going to.” His fingers were still less than a hand's breadth from the stone.

Nera knelt beside Senn. “We are getting Holt.” Bren looked towards the next marker. “One of us goes back. The rest keep collecting.”

“We stay together,” Nera said.

“We still need resin and mushrooms.”

“Then we go without them.”

Bren looked at me. I wanted to turn the stone over, uncover the line, and find out whether more signs lay beneath it. Perhaps it was the first real clue to whoever had killed Mara. Beside me, Senn sat down on the trunk. His fingers trembled so badly that the bag rustled between his boots.

Elias“We are going back,” I said.

Bren let out a breath. “Because of him?” Senn looked up. I glanced at the stone once more. “Because of the find.” It was not the whole truth, and perhaps that was why I said it so quickly.

Halfway back, we noticed that one of the bags was missing. Bren wanted to return, but Nera reminded him that we had just decided to stay together. No one spoke after that.

Holt came towards us, listened to Nera's account, and sent two teachers to the site. Then he opened Bren's bag. It held barely half the moss we had gathered. “No resin. No mushrooms.” He looked at me. “Your decision?”

“Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

The two teachers disappeared between the trees. “I do not know.”

Darian Holt“That is more useful than a quick no.”

Later, the finds from every group lay on the long table in the classroom. Resin, mushrooms, seeds, and enough silver moss for several exercises. Our share looked poor beside them. A boy from the front row pulled his basket closer. “Each group keeps what it found. Otherwise there is no point in being faster.”

“We were not slow,” Bren said.

“You came back without half the list.”

Bren stepped forward. Nera placed the basket between them. “Holt told us to divide it, not decide who feels most important.”

The argument lasted longer than the search in the forest. Every group had a reason to keep more. The healers needed the moss, the others wanted the resin. Two students claimed the same mushrooms because each insisted they had seen them first. Holt leaned against the desk and let them talk.

I took our nearly empty bag and placed it in the middle. “Every group keeps what it needs for the next task. The rest stays shared.”

The boy from the front row looked at me. “You have almost nothing. Of course you want to share.”

“Yes. Today we benefit from it.”

“And tomorrow?”

Elias“Perhaps you will.”

It did not sound especially convincing. Even so, Senn placed our silver moss in the shared basket. Nera followed. Bren held on to his share for another moment, then let it fall in as well. One by one, the others did the same.

In the end, the basket stood on Mara's desk. No one had deliberately placed it there. The space had simply been free. Holt glanced across but said nothing.

When we left the room, Bren, Nera, and Senn were waiting by the door. Not for me, I thought at first. Then Bren stepped aside so that I could pass between them.

I looked back once more. Mara's chair was empty. The basket stood on her desk, filled with things no one had kept for themselves.

It did not make her death smaller. But for the first time, moving on did not feel like betrayal.