Pearl Before Swine ch 7: Second Sunset

~THE PEARL~

As Sal strides toward the center of the ring, strapping the sheath to his belt, the vacant portion of log next to Jun calls to me. I sit and allow our shoulders to touch. This earns me a glance and a gentle smile. I take it as encouragement that he does not scoot away. Of course, he has very little seat left to his other side to scoot away on.

His warmth radiates through our sleeves, yet no glow appears. Was it only Pike’s imagination after all? Or perhaps the cloth is in the way. If I take Jun’s hand, my skin will touch his. Surely then we will see love’s spark. I have already shared this connection with him once. It should be easy, like blowing on an ember and watching it ignite.

Still, my chest tightens as I reach for the hand resting on his knee. He does not see my hesitant, hovering fingers, his eyes set on Sal. The gold-garbed human seems to belong in the ring even less than he did in the forest. The cloth’s color clashes with the pale sand as if it were meant to match and failed. He sets his feet wide, digging them into the ground as he touches the sword at his side, hand even more hesitant than mine.

Yet, he is braver than I. As his opponent’s blade emerges from its home, Sal grips the handle of his own as if he expects it to burn him. It wobbles as he draws it and just manages to deflect a first strike.

My eyes return to Jun’s hand. He lifts it in a cheer, but I do not know what he rejoices over, for I see nothing beyond it. This is a touch that will change his life, not to be done as a gull scoops a fish out of the ocean or a fox snatches a rabbit.

I see the bear crushing him in its grip.

Will he view my desire for his love in the same way? The bear had reason for what it did, but Jun did not know its motivations. If he does not know the motive behind my wish, will it end the same?

“Jun.”

He turns to me again, and the words sit on the precipice of my tongue, ready to tell him that I need him to love me, that my freedom depends upon it. Yet, the sentiment sticks with the agility of a gecko, refusing to fall into his ears.

His brows drop, their shadow only brightening the shine in his eyes as he searches my face.

I have to say something. “The silence within you, how do you fill it?”

“The what?”

“How to describe it?” I blink hard, nose scrunching. “With only your own thoughts inside your mind, do you ever get lonely?”

“If my mind was ever quiet, I’d appreciate that.”

My brows match his in a confused slant. “Humans cannot hear the thoughts of others, can they? Or is that something special about you?”

His jaw juts forward. “Koa are human, too, maybe more human than you are. We live, breathe, eat, and love the same.”

“What is love?” I say it quickly, too loud in my eagerness. The question echoes off a million surfaces and stills each one. Every eye swivels toward us, and I barrel on. “I have searched so long for a definition. If you know what love is, please tell me.”

Scarlet glows in Jun’s cheeks, and he takes a sudden interest in his feet. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a dictionary.”

“Is that a kind of story?”

“A boring one.” The toes of his boots dig into the ground as if he is about to rise and run.

I catch his elbow. “That explains it, then. I always fall asleep during the boring ones, but if you tell it, I will pay very close attention.”

He huffs, wide gaze shooting back to me. “Seriously? And why are all of you staring?”

Sal’s sword pierces the ground, and he leans on it, smirk crinkling his eyes. “I want to hear you tell this ‘dictionary story.’ Sounds to me like it’ll be entertaining.”

“Shut up.”

The students laugh, and as if their guffaws are a bed of coals, Jun jumps to his feet.

I follow, hand suspended just shy of reaching his. “Is love such a secret?”

“Love is…” He reddens in blotches until his skin reminds me of an apple. “It’s a feeling. It’s a need to protect someone.”

I see the truth in it. “To protect someone, you must be with them always so that danger cannot find them when you are apart.”

“That’s part of it, I guess, but when you love someone, you want to be with them because you’re afraid you’ll miss the good things, too, not just that something bad will happen.”

“Good things?” I press. “Like sweet kisses?”

He shines more red than a ruby. “Sometimes. You make those you love feel safe and happy so you can see their smile because to you, their smile is worth more than all the jewels in the world.”

“Very well said, Jun,” the professor pronounces with a slow clap, “but sit. For interrupting someone else’s bout, you get to clean up all the practice weapons today. Sal, Jag, reset.”

Jun plops, elbows on his knees and hands shielding either side of his face. I want to kneel in front of him, tell him I like his answer, but before I can move, Sal steps past his grounded sword.

“I have another proposal, Professor. No offense to Jag as a sparring partner, but this is the mystery girl who saved Jun. Wouldn’t we all like to see her in action?”

Several whoop in agreement. Sal’s soft footfalls sound on the sand, but I do not turn, sight draped over Jun’s slouched form. He looks hurt. Why? Where? Was the bear scratch deeper than he thought after all?

Again, I remember my arms covered in his blood.

“What do you say, Pearl? I challenge you, one hand-to-hand bout, just like when you faced off against the monster in the E’er Wild Forest. I’m no bear, but I’ll do my best.”

Sal wants me to spar with him, to move as I did against the bear? Does he not believe Jun’s account, or does he simply want the privilege of seeing it?

My heart thrums as I pivot. None of Sal’s tremors remain, his eyes locked on me. In the slanted last light of evening, their green mixes with a golden evanescence to resemble peridot.

Without my full consent, my foot moves forward, toe pushing down loose sand. I want the rush of movement from before. It was a dance. And this time, no one will die.

My second foot passes the first, and Sal’s smirk straightens in a smile. He is not my primary choice of dance partner. That would be Jun. In a spar, grabbing his hand would be simple, but something in the intensity of Sal’s gaze whispers that there is a chance here, too. He wants me to take his hand. He wants me to prove something, and once I do, then what?

The mystery lures me in. The background blurs, cloaked in the blanched light of a rising moon. I missed the moment of second sunset. Has the professor sanctioned this? I missed that, too.

Steps languid but nimble, Sal backs to my left, and I lunge. What are the rules? What are we trying to accomplish?

I do not care about the answer. Movement is my only goal.

Sal skirts my attack like shadow ever dodging the light. Behind me, he snatches my bicep. I twist free, land on my curled shoulders, and roll. My feet find the sand but cannot take my weight, swept away by his leg, and I roll again.

Over and over, he is there at every turn, every bend, every step. My heart pounds, filling the emptiness beside my thoughts. Everything I am coalesces into a need to outmaneuver him. He holds my wrist behind my back, and the more I whirl, the more tangled I become.

Light like a fire flickers between us, and a cry breaks my trance.

The flame is not my imagination, though “flame” is not quite the right word for it. The creature is a ribbon of light. Undulating in a breeze that affects nothing else, it hovers above our heads. Jag hisses on the ground, curled around his steaming leg. Another student leans over him, trying to convince him to let her assess his wound.

“What is that thing?” the professor barks, and as if in reply, it dives straight for me.

Sal wraps me in a tight embrace and spins. Jun snatches the grounded sword and dives behind us, though I do not know how he intends to combat light with a blade.

It does nothing. As the creature flows past his arm, it makes the sound of a downpour. Jun retracts his hand, holding it tight to his chest. Like Jag’s leg, it steams, flesh blistered and charred beneath shredded sleeve.

“Don’t let it touch you!” he warns, voice strained.

Sal keeps just one step ahead of it, constantly swerving, but a second one cascades over the trees. The students keep low. Some clutch weapons.

I am as a child, pressed against Sal’s chest and peeking over his shoulder. Is it wrong that I want to touch the light monsters? I heard Jun’s warning and saw what it did to him, but they are such a new and alien thing. I have never seen nor heard of anything like them. I want to probe their thoughts, experience the world as they do, even if that is impossible in this form. Why do they have to show up now?

Injured arm at his side, Jun runs toward us holding a crossbow, and the second creature flows to meet him. He pivots into a backbend, shins sliding on the grass and weapon raised. The creature is a river, the electric green of Mare’s eyes and translucent, but through its glow, I can no longer see the students. The tip of Jun’s arrow is easier to perceive. Ripples stream in its wake as it parts the monster’s belly.

Then that scene, too, disappears as the first creature surrounds us. We have almost reached the trees, and Sal looks up, body tensing. If he intends to leap into the branches, I doubt he will make it.

My feet touch the ground, and his arms leave me as he continues to drop, palms cupped together.

“Step into my hands, and I’ll throw you.”

But I do not. I crouch, forehead against his, but before I can assure him we are in this together, thunder rips through me. It starts small, a million parts fusing into one. Lightning streaks around us, crawling across the creature, and a scream echoes in my head, sharper than any claw or dagger. Hands buried in my hair, I let the cry pour from my throat until I have no more breath.

Limp, I fall on Sal and watch the scene sideways through half-lidded eyes. The first creature has vanished, and the second darts toward us, but the professor stands at Sal’s back, wielding a bow and arrow.

She barely takes the time to aim, then fires. As her bolt flies, it divides into a dozen, then two dozen, four, eight, and I lose count. They form a cloud, and as the first ones sink through the creature’s fluidic hide, electricity shoots between each tiny arrow.

The scream is just as bad the second time. In this human form, I should not have the ability to touch the mind of another, so why can I hear them? Is this the creature’s ability instead? Can the other humans present hear it as well?

How can they remain standing?

Sal shakes, but he rises, holding me tightly. His touch is a balm, warm and solid, a reminder of what is real.

“Get inside, the lot of you!” the professor calls as the students surround her.

“But you defeated them,” one says, and she swats at him with her bow.

“They may have simply retreated. Go.”

They obey, but Sal does not follow, and I cannot move. I can barely breathe.

“Sal?”

“Those things were after her. Specifically. If we take her inside—”

“Would you just abandon her, then?”

He shakes his head, and his tremors quicken. “I’ll stay with her, but it’s not wise to endanger the school.” One foot falls behind him, weight shifting backward.

There is a whooshing zing, and Sal is pulled forward, wrists leading.

“I swear on my name, boy, I’ll not leave a young girl out here to fend off those things, and I won’t leave you either.”

He laughs, but there is no mirth in it. “Professor, I don’t even know your name.”

“Cookie Baker.”

“That’s your real name? Your parents went all out on that one.”

The professor grunts, boots heavy in the soft soil as she drags us, though Sal does not put up much of a fight. His steps are stilted, but he walks. “I hope it’s an apt name. I like sweets.”

Does he? I shall have to remember that. He likely does not expect a reward for carrying me or for his bravery, but he has my appreciation just the same. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. He smells of salt and ash.

With a sigh, he whispers in my ear. “See why you shouldn’t ask about Mare?”

Did those creatures belong to her? Terra forbade her from interfering. Surely killing me would be interference, though if I am dead, I may be closer to what she wants. The other items on her necklace are all broken, pulled off beings that once lived but with no life of their own. Is that my fate?

Some part of me refuses to believe those creatures want me dead, however. They want attention. They want to pull me from Sal’s arms.

They would have killed him. They hurt Jun and Jag.

My face is wet. I try to focus on Sal’s movement, the rise and fall of his feet, the sway of his shoulders, the rhythm, the balance, the art of it. Warm air and light envelop us. We must be inside, and still I cannot move, limbs as limp as vines.

The creatures’ screams reverberate, bruising the inside of my skull, and only one sound keeps me sane. Sal’s whistle, low and dawdling over the same notes as before.

“Is she hurt?” Professor Baker asks.

“I think so.”

“And you?”

“No.”

“Set her here,” another orders, and I am falling. Sponge meets my back.

I do not want Sal to let go of me, but he does.

Continued in chapter 8: The Roommate

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