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A crack of branches behind me causes my shoulders to tighten. I slowly slide one of my knives from my thigh strap and spin around, brandishing the relatively dull weapon like it may make a difference. I let out a breath of relief when I see it’s Max, who looks different today than she usually does. “New haircut, Max?”
She grins, running her hands through her short, brown hair, its deep coloring reminding me of licorice root.
“Yeah, new haircut. I thought it made me look a little feral. Figured it couldn’t hurt if others on the Summit thought I was a bit unhinged.” She does a quick jump toward me, causing me to stumble back.
“Hell, Max, you should know better than to startle someone with a knife.”
“That’s not a knife,” she scoffs, “That may as well be a hairbrush for all the help it’s going to be for you. Tell you what. I’ll trade you a whetstone for some eggs.”
I know whetstones are worth a lot more than eggs in the days leading up to the Race, and I can’t help but feel a rush of warmth in my chest toward Max. “I couldn’t find one at the market today!”
She grins and shrugs, and I realize she’s looking out for me, as she has for the past ten years. Max was a member of the pod that was particularly disappointed in my parents when they left me on the Summit.
“Well then. Let’s go grab those eggs.” I doubt she even needs them, but she knows I am too proud to take something so valuable as a gift.
We head back to the rust brown shack that I call home, and I grab a couple of eggs from the basket I brought back from the market. Max pulls a chair out from my table and flops into it, looking around at my meager accommodations. She catches the eggs as I roll them across the tabletop to her and slides them into the pocket of her baggy green pants.
Centuries ago, when a virus passed through Krillium and wiped out a huge swath of our population and crops, keeping a house in good condition became the least of the worries of the Lowlanders. I am no exception. The peeling color of the walls, yellowed with age, the cracked windows held together by rope and paste, and the leaky wood roof make up the place I call home and is far from what I would call comfortable.
But it’s enough for me.
I’ve got a bed in the corner covered in tattered black linens, and it is just fine, if a little worn, a wood table and rickety chairs, and a kitchen with a wood stove and a single counter. What more could I need?
“You got any mead?” she asks expectantly, leaning her head onto her hands.
Looking at her, I’m not surprised that Max is quite popular with the men and women of the Lowlands. Her pale eyes are reminiscent of the moss that grows on trees, and I have always thought the crescent her lips made when they flicked up in a smile was captivating.
I’ve had my fair share of interest in bedmates, but that’s all it’s ever been for me. I haven’t had a relationship or anything that could be called that since Link, which was a long while ago. Max, on the other hand, always has a new partner to keep her busy. It’s always seemed like a lot of work to me.
I pull a bottle of mead from the bottom of a bookshelf, blowing the dust off to avoid rubbing it on my newly cleaned shirt. “I’ve been saving this since last year,” I sigh, sliding back into my seat and taking a swig.
“How are you feeling, you know, with the anniversary of your parents completely betraying you being so close? It’s been what, nine years now?” Max inquires, snagging the bottle from me.
“Ten, actually. And, like shit, honestly. But hey. Only a few more nights to dream about the Race. We’ll be in the arena accepting our winnings in no time, and then I can confront them about it in Ytopie.” I grin, unable to help myself from imagining finishing the Race with Max. As much as I’ve tried not to make connections, Max is the only person I consider a friend anymore. At this point, she almost feels like an extension of myself, the way she’s latched herself onto me and refused to leave.
Most people live a somewhat normal life here in the Lowlands. They live joyfully, make friends, have relationships, and the Race is just a blip in their otherwise okay lives. Max has tried her best to live that kind of life, but she knows how much I struggle with it. In my family, there was nothing more important than the Race.
I just want to get out of Dalery and be able to have some sort of future. There is nothing left for me here.
“You ever consider what life would be like if you were content to be middle of the pack and just run the Race, come home, and have a life?” Max asks, quietly spinning the bottle of mead between her hands.
“For a minute there,” I answer, considering the proposition. “Every time I think about it, though, I remember when Jaz’s grandmother was in the bottom, and they did nothing to help her catch up. I just don’t think I can sit idly by and see someone labeled as expendable anymore.”
Max is silent as she nods her agreement, her eyes drilling into my core.
“Look, Max, I just can’t imagine this being the rest of my life. Constantly training. Going through the Race year after year, worried that one day I will be too feeble to compete, and I will be an expendable, put to death because I am deemed no longer worth the resources I consume.”
She interrupts me. “That won’t be you, Viola. You do nothing but train. Nothing is more important to you than Racing.”
I scoff. “It’s not important to me the way you think it is. It’s necessary. Do you think I enjoy that a council of fae get to decide if my only worth is as a sacrifice to the vitality of a God who couldn’t give a fuck about me?”
She cringes, snatching the mead from me to pull deeply on the bottle.
“It has been centuries since the Gods have shown themselves to the people of the Lowlands,” I say quietly. “I do not worship on their altars. If I wouldn’t be put to death for refusing to Race, I would. Who cares about their vitality when we’re starving here?”
Max and her family have always subscribed to the idea that the Gods watch over us every day, and it is our solemn duty to Race. I grew up alongside Max in an alliance pod, a group of families who vowed to watch each other’s back and children if they didn’t make it through the Race, and I watched her parents and mine butt heads constantly about their motivations in the Race.
“I’ll never be able to live a quiet life here, Max. I can’t trust anyone anymore.”
