Post by countlivin on Apr 23, 2019 4:14:36 GMT
Chapter 3: The Dark Canopy
Saul Arrem
The branches of this forest were rough and firm, and Saul called each one his own. The fifty-acre expanse of the apple orchard was his workplace and his home. He spent countless liberating hours amidst its treetops, longing to grab onto one more branch or pick one more delicious fruit. The moment he climbed down and his feet touched the black, grainy earth of District Eleven, he had descended back into hell.
He grasped onto another branch and swung gracefully to the next tree in the row. There was a little area within the canopy ahead where two trees' branches became entwined so tightly they created an almost solid ground. It made a perfect resting spot on an exhausting day like this one. With four walls, a ceiling and a floor, it was almost as if these couple of trees were a room. It was a place Saul could get away from everything.
Saul had almost outgrown the shabby orphanage named St. Rhodes'. At eighteen, everything had been stolen from him—everything but his sister and his own life. His parents had been gone so long he found it harder and harder to recollect their faces, and Peara had never even known them. His mother died to bring Peara into the world when the doctors wouldn't help, and his father left soon after, out of grief or fear, he would never know. But what memories hadn't fled were ones that brought peace in the chaos of Eleven. His father had been a good man before everything happened—a man Saul strived to become.
He gazed towards the twilit sky and took note of the dusty haze along the horizon. Why did I not see that on the way to the orchard? It was frequently foggy in District Eleven. Saul found it kept him sharp, having to peer through the distance and search for shapes behind it. But today, the fog made it hard to breathe. Saul slowed his pace and breathed deeply, so as not to trigger his asthma again.
District Eleven was not a place one could exist without a backup plan. It was cold, brutal, and every time your tongue slipped, you could be forever branded a title. That was if the upper class citizens were feeling considerably generous. Its main export to the Capitol was agriculture, and anyone worth anything here was tough as nails. It was a massive privilege for Saul just to have a place to escape to at all. He would have brought his sister along with him, if only she could climb as well as he. Peara could barely lift even her own weight, let alone traverse the orchard canopy.
Saul had very dark skin, just as most did in Eleven. Here, you were hard pressed to find a person that wasn't black, but those paler few were the lowest class, and were spat upon by men who thought themselves higher, treated like garbage. They called them Albars. Saul's kid sister, Peara, was one of these, yet she couldn't even find help with the white folks. She wasn't one of them. She was born to two black parents, but was born with silver hair, pink eyes and milky-white skin. People called her a freak and worse. When Saul defended her (and he did with every fiber of his being) he was always caught in the crossfire of their hatred. He didn't mind too much, just as long as Peara was spared. Whenever he felt lonely, he could retreat to the treetops. It somehow made him feel more whole. He was invincible while he was up here.
Peara was home today—or what could pass for a home for the two of them. St. Rhodes', much like the rest of the District, was torn apart by gangs and other unpleasant groups. Saul fought every day as hard as he could to shield his sister from it, but she had grown too old for that. She turned twelve earlier that month, and Saul decided once she was old enough to get shipped off to that godforsaken arena, she was old enough to handle herself. And for once in his life, he could finally journey out to his orchard in some peace.
As Saul passed another tree on the path to his destination, a landmark along the trial and in his life. Closer to the ground, carved into the stumps were his initials and the initials of a young girl, woven inside each other. Her name was Beth. They had spent many hours at this tree when they were young. When they were foolish, they discussed plans of marriage. It was part of the reason these woods became such a home to Saul. He could say whatever he wanted and only the orchard would hear.
Countless days and nights he would spend with this girl. On the days he wasn't with her, he sat atop the trees, chewing on juicy apples and wondering what the next day would hold for him. Now, Saul had a different mindset. He was no longer the optimist he had been, but a realist. He spent far more time looking longingly at the past than anxiously at the future. This place was where Saul first fell in love.
He moved on, hopping from branch to branch, passing various flora and fauna below. It was a very serene way to live, up here, the leaves of the apple trees dancing all around him and the sun just barely kissing the ground below. Although, today, the sun shone far less brightly because the farther and farther he travelled south, the darker it got. He wasn't quite sure why.
There was one more tree he passed on his way to the grove. It wasn't like the others. It was a nice oak with a bent trunk near the bottom, making a nice seating area. Its bark was peeling off the trunk. Its branches, however, were very dense and were an absolute mess to climb through. Saul found it best to avoid this one when he climbed to his grove. But the tree… Countless days had been spent here as well. After they started dating, Beth and Saul came out to this tree almost every day and drank moonshine by the moonlight. It was their thing, and this tree was the place where Saul had first tasted alcohol.
He continued on his wayward journey, vaulting over branch by crooked branch. Saul was very adept at climbing the trees, and he had been ever since he'd taken an apprenticeship to Thurgood Munrow, the owner of the orchard. He'd spent most waking hours within these branches, plucking out bad apples before the trees were harvested. He had the job ever since. It was why the woods were his home.
The next tree that he had marked was actually two trees three feet apart, where the orchard ended and the forest began. They were so close together Saul considered them one. Beth had once pointed out that the trees were so close on one of their walks past the orchard, and suggested that maybe one day the two would be just as close as the trees were. Saul said they already were. That was the tree where Saul had his first kiss.
As Saul drew farther and farther into the orchard, the light became darker and darker, and it became harder to see five feet in front of his face. It's only four in the afternoon, surely it can't be getting dark yet? He didn't know where all the fog was coming from, but it smelled awful. He began to cough and reached into his pocket. He brought out his inhaler, and pressed it against his mouth, drawing a deep breath from within the plastic chamber. Saul hated the little device. It reminded him that he couldn't spend very long alone before he had to use something from Eleven. Nevertheless, he had asthma, and if he didn't have his inhaler with him, he could succumb to an attack out here, and no one would ever find him.
The next tree was a giant one. It was one of the largest in the forest, a towering birch. Its leaves covered even the canopy itself. It used to be one of his favorites to climb, before. But, one day, when Beth and Saul came through this path, a man jumped from the bushes below and stabbed him in the shoulder, and proceeded to try and take the girl. Saul beat the man within an inch of his life. Later, after they had fled, Saul found out he had bled to death in that forest. That was the tree where Saul first killed a man.
He took great care in avoiding that tree now, even navigating through a prickly pine tree to take a detour. This orchard was a forest of memories, and the ones previously had been good ones. Saul wished the grove had ended up in another direction, so he wouldn't have to dwell every time he ventured there, but there was no way he could find a better spot for relaxation than his grove. The dark mist became thicker and Saul finally realized that it was smoke. His pace quickened.
The next tree was a small one, a baby apple tree that found its way out into the forest. Its top branch didn't even reach the canopy. It had been even smaller when Beth broke up with him. "You're a monster, Saul," she had told him. "I can't be around you anymore. I love you, but you're dangerous." It was the tree where his heart had first been broken.
Saul felt a wave of emotion. He wasn't one to cry over loss, and he hadn't cried once since he was an infant. It wasn't because he was tough, he was actually more sensitive than most, but others' ways led them to tears, and his way led him to silence.
Saul had searched for Beth for months upon months following the day after she had left him. No matter where he searched in town—at her house, through the market, even on the outskirts near the fence—he hadn't found her. So much time passed, and Saul had grown used to the idea that he would never find the girl again. She had left him and was never coming back. And then, after a year of searching, he stumbled upon her, hanging from a lone walnut tree in a sea of oak.
Even now, the horror took him by the throat. He had been on his way to his grove, wanting nothing more than to escape an exhausting day, when he spotted her. She was swinging by the neck from the highest branch of the great walnut tree. This… this was the tree where he first felt true loneliness. That day was only two months ago.
With a heavy heart, Saul proceeded to the route. After several minutes, the fence passed beneath him. It was meant to keep people from leaving District Eleven, but it had never stopped Saul before. The forest had extended past the fence and the grove was well behind it. Saul stepped past, knowing if he were caught out here, he would surely be arrested. He knew what they did to people who tried to leave the District. Mr. Munrow had a slave once: one of those men without tongues, the avoxes.
Saul climbed further into the forest. Oak slowly bent to pine, and eventually, that was all there was left. The lumberjacks who chopped these kinds of trees down didn't care to look outside the walls, and that was how Saul liked it. It was untouched. He coughed a minute through the haze of smoke and realized it was becoming difficult to breathe normally—and not just because of his asthma.
For an instant, Saul lost his footing. He'd never fallen from the trees before, not when they were his home… Nothing on the ground was truly his, but the orchard… At least, within the branches he could be away from the world below. It was the only place in the whole world he could forget everything.
And then Saul found the last branch. He didn't have to climb farther to see what had become of his orchard. The space that once bore fruit for an entire District was now inhabited by stumps and scorched earth. Those trees had been the only thing Saul could call his own, and now they were gone.
The scorch marks ran over the ground like horrid scars. Everything throughout the entire valley was grey and withered and rotten. All the trees had either fallen timber or turned to dust. He couldn't help but think how many thousands of animals the fire decimated. Seeing it felt as though it took a part of Saul away. It made a deep pain rise in his chest, far worse than any caused by his asthma. The grove was nowhere to be found. It had burned up in the flames. His home was dead.
He shouted at the top of his lungs and the sound echoed over itself a few times. The hill he stood upon had an advantage on the rest of the valley, and Saul used to look down at it with joy. It felt like his. This forest was his child. Besides his sister, it was the only thing that mattered in his life.
He squinted and made out a miniscule light through the smoke spreading over the land. The fire was still lit! It was climbing the mountainside on the other end of the valley inch by inch like a slug. He knew he had to stop it. But how could he? No one would take the time to come all the way out past the fence to extinguish the fire. It would keep burning and burning until there was nothing left of the forest and the valley.
He would make his way back to the orchard and to his master, and warn him. He wouldn't really be the only one within District Eleven truly affected, since it could spread to the orchard, but he couldn't bring himself to do something without a moment of hesitation. He was behind the fence… They would arrest him, lock him up, or worse…
67% of readers chose to [A. Tell Mr. Munrow.]
Saul couldn't see this place go up in flames. He had a hard time even maintaining his gaze on the fire on the far side of the valley with all the smoke in the air. And so, without another thought, he turned and sprinted through the branches. He had to get back before it spread to the orchard.
He passed tree after tree, not even stopping to recollect the few trees he had spent so much time with. They had been his spiritual journey through so many years of his life, having to pass through it to reach his place of peace. And though they told a story, they taught him the one principle Saul liked to carry over his life, the one that his father had spoken before he set off to the market for the last time: "Trust no one."
Saul used to be the trusting kind, but that started to slowly decline when he was seven and his father left, only a year after Peara was born. He had told the young boy that he would never leave, and yet he did. He knew he couldn't count on other people, and it was this notion that caused him to want to be, as best he could, the type of person you could actually count on—mostly for Peara. Without him, she would truly have no one.
Tree after tree, he blazed past them. He'd spent so much time here that he knew where each branch was, exactly where he could put each foot. For him, they might as well have been solid ground. He could find footing anywhere. And as he approached the edge of the forest, the cabin came into view. It was a rickety, moldy old shop where Mr. Munrow sold his apples, and where he lived. He'd asked, time and time again, if Peara and himself could be allowed to stay there, but he'd refused. There was barely enough space for his own purposes.
Saul hopped out of the tree and onto the ground, rolling with the fall like he had always done. The shop was as pathetic as ever, with a panel peeling off the wall like paper. It could barely even be qualified as shelter, but it did the job regardless. He approached its door and flung it open, not caring about the top hinge as it cascaded from its socket. When he was on the other side, found Mr. Munrow.
He stood there behind the counter with a scowl on his face as he did every day. His slowly graying beard stretched all throughout his chin but didn't quite reach his scalp. His dark freckles were many, as he was nearing the end of life expectancy in Eleven. But Saul didn't expect him to die any time soon. The man was tough.
"What are you doing here, boy?" Munrow spat disdainfully. He took a bite of porridge from a wooden bowl on the counter. "You got off work an hour ago."
Saul breathed a sigh of relief, taking out his inhaler and taking a huge whiff of it. He usually didn't run that far that fast. "There's… a fire… sir."
"A fire?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "In our orchard?"
"No," Saul continued. "It's just beyond the fence, but it could easily spread if we let it. It's going to get to us, sir!"
"Ah." The man didn't look too surprised. He only pointed to the wooden seat in front of him—the one that had its leg nailed back on more times than he could count. "Have a seat, son."
Saul followed his wrinkled finger to the rickety wooden hair next to the wall. "We don't have long before it burns up the whole forest!"
"That forest is outside the wall," he replied. "It poses no threat to us and our orchard."
"But it does, sir." Saul shook his head furiously. "The fire's slowly climbing over the hill, and soon it will hit the District."
"No, I don't think it will," he said, taking the final bite from his porridge.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm the man who hired the archer to shoot the bloody burning arrow into those woods."
Saul clutched the edge of his seat. "Why would you do something like that?"
Those trees out there take nutrients from the soil—nutrients which the orchard needs to thrive. You're enough of a gardener to understand that."
Mr. Munrow reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle of vodka. With a flick of the wrist, he put two glasses on the table and filled them both. He gestured one towards Saul, and he accepted it hesitantly. "I'm only eighteen, sir…"
"Don't matter," he replied. Saul took a sip. The alcohol kicked him back in his seat. When the glass came down, he continued. "You're man enough to go to prison, you're man enough to drink."
"Prison?" Saul's eyes went wide. "Why would I go to prison?"
"I'd like to ask you how you were so sure of the fire reaching the District." He put the bottle of vodka back on the shelf. "Any man on this side of the fence wouldn't even be able to spot the flames. The smoke perhaps, but… surely not the direction of the spread…" Saul heard a loud crash, and the door flew open past the loose hinge and onto the floor. Three Peacekeepers, the federal guards of the District dressed all in white armor, burst into the room carrying tasers and guns. "I've suspected you were breaking the law for a long time, Saul. I just needed a confession before I could call them."
"But… why, sir?" he asked, as two of the men took him by the arms. He attempted to wrestle away, but it was no use. He wasn't strong enough. "What have I ever done to you?"
"It's not what you've done to me, but what you've done to yourself." Munrow took his bowl of porridge and set it down beside the sink. He turned and watched as Saul was hastily dragged from the doorway screaming. "Goodbye, Saul. I'll see you on the other side."
End of Chapter 3
Saul Arrem
The branches of this forest were rough and firm, and Saul called each one his own. The fifty-acre expanse of the apple orchard was his workplace and his home. He spent countless liberating hours amidst its treetops, longing to grab onto one more branch or pick one more delicious fruit. The moment he climbed down and his feet touched the black, grainy earth of District Eleven, he had descended back into hell.
He grasped onto another branch and swung gracefully to the next tree in the row. There was a little area within the canopy ahead where two trees' branches became entwined so tightly they created an almost solid ground. It made a perfect resting spot on an exhausting day like this one. With four walls, a ceiling and a floor, it was almost as if these couple of trees were a room. It was a place Saul could get away from everything.
Saul had almost outgrown the shabby orphanage named St. Rhodes'. At eighteen, everything had been stolen from him—everything but his sister and his own life. His parents had been gone so long he found it harder and harder to recollect their faces, and Peara had never even known them. His mother died to bring Peara into the world when the doctors wouldn't help, and his father left soon after, out of grief or fear, he would never know. But what memories hadn't fled were ones that brought peace in the chaos of Eleven. His father had been a good man before everything happened—a man Saul strived to become.
He gazed towards the twilit sky and took note of the dusty haze along the horizon. Why did I not see that on the way to the orchard? It was frequently foggy in District Eleven. Saul found it kept him sharp, having to peer through the distance and search for shapes behind it. But today, the fog made it hard to breathe. Saul slowed his pace and breathed deeply, so as not to trigger his asthma again.
District Eleven was not a place one could exist without a backup plan. It was cold, brutal, and every time your tongue slipped, you could be forever branded a title. That was if the upper class citizens were feeling considerably generous. Its main export to the Capitol was agriculture, and anyone worth anything here was tough as nails. It was a massive privilege for Saul just to have a place to escape to at all. He would have brought his sister along with him, if only she could climb as well as he. Peara could barely lift even her own weight, let alone traverse the orchard canopy.
Saul had very dark skin, just as most did in Eleven. Here, you were hard pressed to find a person that wasn't black, but those paler few were the lowest class, and were spat upon by men who thought themselves higher, treated like garbage. They called them Albars. Saul's kid sister, Peara, was one of these, yet she couldn't even find help with the white folks. She wasn't one of them. She was born to two black parents, but was born with silver hair, pink eyes and milky-white skin. People called her a freak and worse. When Saul defended her (and he did with every fiber of his being) he was always caught in the crossfire of their hatred. He didn't mind too much, just as long as Peara was spared. Whenever he felt lonely, he could retreat to the treetops. It somehow made him feel more whole. He was invincible while he was up here.
Peara was home today—or what could pass for a home for the two of them. St. Rhodes', much like the rest of the District, was torn apart by gangs and other unpleasant groups. Saul fought every day as hard as he could to shield his sister from it, but she had grown too old for that. She turned twelve earlier that month, and Saul decided once she was old enough to get shipped off to that godforsaken arena, she was old enough to handle herself. And for once in his life, he could finally journey out to his orchard in some peace.
As Saul passed another tree on the path to his destination, a landmark along the trial and in his life. Closer to the ground, carved into the stumps were his initials and the initials of a young girl, woven inside each other. Her name was Beth. They had spent many hours at this tree when they were young. When they were foolish, they discussed plans of marriage. It was part of the reason these woods became such a home to Saul. He could say whatever he wanted and only the orchard would hear.
Countless days and nights he would spend with this girl. On the days he wasn't with her, he sat atop the trees, chewing on juicy apples and wondering what the next day would hold for him. Now, Saul had a different mindset. He was no longer the optimist he had been, but a realist. He spent far more time looking longingly at the past than anxiously at the future. This place was where Saul first fell in love.
He moved on, hopping from branch to branch, passing various flora and fauna below. It was a very serene way to live, up here, the leaves of the apple trees dancing all around him and the sun just barely kissing the ground below. Although, today, the sun shone far less brightly because the farther and farther he travelled south, the darker it got. He wasn't quite sure why.
There was one more tree he passed on his way to the grove. It wasn't like the others. It was a nice oak with a bent trunk near the bottom, making a nice seating area. Its bark was peeling off the trunk. Its branches, however, were very dense and were an absolute mess to climb through. Saul found it best to avoid this one when he climbed to his grove. But the tree… Countless days had been spent here as well. After they started dating, Beth and Saul came out to this tree almost every day and drank moonshine by the moonlight. It was their thing, and this tree was the place where Saul had first tasted alcohol.
He continued on his wayward journey, vaulting over branch by crooked branch. Saul was very adept at climbing the trees, and he had been ever since he'd taken an apprenticeship to Thurgood Munrow, the owner of the orchard. He'd spent most waking hours within these branches, plucking out bad apples before the trees were harvested. He had the job ever since. It was why the woods were his home.
The next tree that he had marked was actually two trees three feet apart, where the orchard ended and the forest began. They were so close together Saul considered them one. Beth had once pointed out that the trees were so close on one of their walks past the orchard, and suggested that maybe one day the two would be just as close as the trees were. Saul said they already were. That was the tree where Saul had his first kiss.
As Saul drew farther and farther into the orchard, the light became darker and darker, and it became harder to see five feet in front of his face. It's only four in the afternoon, surely it can't be getting dark yet? He didn't know where all the fog was coming from, but it smelled awful. He began to cough and reached into his pocket. He brought out his inhaler, and pressed it against his mouth, drawing a deep breath from within the plastic chamber. Saul hated the little device. It reminded him that he couldn't spend very long alone before he had to use something from Eleven. Nevertheless, he had asthma, and if he didn't have his inhaler with him, he could succumb to an attack out here, and no one would ever find him.
The next tree was a giant one. It was one of the largest in the forest, a towering birch. Its leaves covered even the canopy itself. It used to be one of his favorites to climb, before. But, one day, when Beth and Saul came through this path, a man jumped from the bushes below and stabbed him in the shoulder, and proceeded to try and take the girl. Saul beat the man within an inch of his life. Later, after they had fled, Saul found out he had bled to death in that forest. That was the tree where Saul first killed a man.
He took great care in avoiding that tree now, even navigating through a prickly pine tree to take a detour. This orchard was a forest of memories, and the ones previously had been good ones. Saul wished the grove had ended up in another direction, so he wouldn't have to dwell every time he ventured there, but there was no way he could find a better spot for relaxation than his grove. The dark mist became thicker and Saul finally realized that it was smoke. His pace quickened.
The next tree was a small one, a baby apple tree that found its way out into the forest. Its top branch didn't even reach the canopy. It had been even smaller when Beth broke up with him. "You're a monster, Saul," she had told him. "I can't be around you anymore. I love you, but you're dangerous." It was the tree where his heart had first been broken.
Saul felt a wave of emotion. He wasn't one to cry over loss, and he hadn't cried once since he was an infant. It wasn't because he was tough, he was actually more sensitive than most, but others' ways led them to tears, and his way led him to silence.
Saul had searched for Beth for months upon months following the day after she had left him. No matter where he searched in town—at her house, through the market, even on the outskirts near the fence—he hadn't found her. So much time passed, and Saul had grown used to the idea that he would never find the girl again. She had left him and was never coming back. And then, after a year of searching, he stumbled upon her, hanging from a lone walnut tree in a sea of oak.
Even now, the horror took him by the throat. He had been on his way to his grove, wanting nothing more than to escape an exhausting day, when he spotted her. She was swinging by the neck from the highest branch of the great walnut tree. This… this was the tree where he first felt true loneliness. That day was only two months ago.
With a heavy heart, Saul proceeded to the route. After several minutes, the fence passed beneath him. It was meant to keep people from leaving District Eleven, but it had never stopped Saul before. The forest had extended past the fence and the grove was well behind it. Saul stepped past, knowing if he were caught out here, he would surely be arrested. He knew what they did to people who tried to leave the District. Mr. Munrow had a slave once: one of those men without tongues, the avoxes.
Saul climbed further into the forest. Oak slowly bent to pine, and eventually, that was all there was left. The lumberjacks who chopped these kinds of trees down didn't care to look outside the walls, and that was how Saul liked it. It was untouched. He coughed a minute through the haze of smoke and realized it was becoming difficult to breathe normally—and not just because of his asthma.
For an instant, Saul lost his footing. He'd never fallen from the trees before, not when they were his home… Nothing on the ground was truly his, but the orchard… At least, within the branches he could be away from the world below. It was the only place in the whole world he could forget everything.
And then Saul found the last branch. He didn't have to climb farther to see what had become of his orchard. The space that once bore fruit for an entire District was now inhabited by stumps and scorched earth. Those trees had been the only thing Saul could call his own, and now they were gone.
The scorch marks ran over the ground like horrid scars. Everything throughout the entire valley was grey and withered and rotten. All the trees had either fallen timber or turned to dust. He couldn't help but think how many thousands of animals the fire decimated. Seeing it felt as though it took a part of Saul away. It made a deep pain rise in his chest, far worse than any caused by his asthma. The grove was nowhere to be found. It had burned up in the flames. His home was dead.
He shouted at the top of his lungs and the sound echoed over itself a few times. The hill he stood upon had an advantage on the rest of the valley, and Saul used to look down at it with joy. It felt like his. This forest was his child. Besides his sister, it was the only thing that mattered in his life.
He squinted and made out a miniscule light through the smoke spreading over the land. The fire was still lit! It was climbing the mountainside on the other end of the valley inch by inch like a slug. He knew he had to stop it. But how could he? No one would take the time to come all the way out past the fence to extinguish the fire. It would keep burning and burning until there was nothing left of the forest and the valley.
He would make his way back to the orchard and to his master, and warn him. He wouldn't really be the only one within District Eleven truly affected, since it could spread to the orchard, but he couldn't bring himself to do something without a moment of hesitation. He was behind the fence… They would arrest him, lock him up, or worse…
67% of readers chose to [A. Tell Mr. Munrow.]
Saul couldn't see this place go up in flames. He had a hard time even maintaining his gaze on the fire on the far side of the valley with all the smoke in the air. And so, without another thought, he turned and sprinted through the branches. He had to get back before it spread to the orchard.
He passed tree after tree, not even stopping to recollect the few trees he had spent so much time with. They had been his spiritual journey through so many years of his life, having to pass through it to reach his place of peace. And though they told a story, they taught him the one principle Saul liked to carry over his life, the one that his father had spoken before he set off to the market for the last time: "Trust no one."
Saul used to be the trusting kind, but that started to slowly decline when he was seven and his father left, only a year after Peara was born. He had told the young boy that he would never leave, and yet he did. He knew he couldn't count on other people, and it was this notion that caused him to want to be, as best he could, the type of person you could actually count on—mostly for Peara. Without him, she would truly have no one.
Tree after tree, he blazed past them. He'd spent so much time here that he knew where each branch was, exactly where he could put each foot. For him, they might as well have been solid ground. He could find footing anywhere. And as he approached the edge of the forest, the cabin came into view. It was a rickety, moldy old shop where Mr. Munrow sold his apples, and where he lived. He'd asked, time and time again, if Peara and himself could be allowed to stay there, but he'd refused. There was barely enough space for his own purposes.
Saul hopped out of the tree and onto the ground, rolling with the fall like he had always done. The shop was as pathetic as ever, with a panel peeling off the wall like paper. It could barely even be qualified as shelter, but it did the job regardless. He approached its door and flung it open, not caring about the top hinge as it cascaded from its socket. When he was on the other side, found Mr. Munrow.
He stood there behind the counter with a scowl on his face as he did every day. His slowly graying beard stretched all throughout his chin but didn't quite reach his scalp. His dark freckles were many, as he was nearing the end of life expectancy in Eleven. But Saul didn't expect him to die any time soon. The man was tough.
"What are you doing here, boy?" Munrow spat disdainfully. He took a bite of porridge from a wooden bowl on the counter. "You got off work an hour ago."
Saul breathed a sigh of relief, taking out his inhaler and taking a huge whiff of it. He usually didn't run that far that fast. "There's… a fire… sir."
"A fire?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "In our orchard?"
"No," Saul continued. "It's just beyond the fence, but it could easily spread if we let it. It's going to get to us, sir!"
"Ah." The man didn't look too surprised. He only pointed to the wooden seat in front of him—the one that had its leg nailed back on more times than he could count. "Have a seat, son."
Saul followed his wrinkled finger to the rickety wooden hair next to the wall. "We don't have long before it burns up the whole forest!"
"That forest is outside the wall," he replied. "It poses no threat to us and our orchard."
"But it does, sir." Saul shook his head furiously. "The fire's slowly climbing over the hill, and soon it will hit the District."
"No, I don't think it will," he said, taking the final bite from his porridge.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm the man who hired the archer to shoot the bloody burning arrow into those woods."
Saul clutched the edge of his seat. "Why would you do something like that?"
Those trees out there take nutrients from the soil—nutrients which the orchard needs to thrive. You're enough of a gardener to understand that."
Mr. Munrow reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle of vodka. With a flick of the wrist, he put two glasses on the table and filled them both. He gestured one towards Saul, and he accepted it hesitantly. "I'm only eighteen, sir…"
"Don't matter," he replied. Saul took a sip. The alcohol kicked him back in his seat. When the glass came down, he continued. "You're man enough to go to prison, you're man enough to drink."
"Prison?" Saul's eyes went wide. "Why would I go to prison?"
"I'd like to ask you how you were so sure of the fire reaching the District." He put the bottle of vodka back on the shelf. "Any man on this side of the fence wouldn't even be able to spot the flames. The smoke perhaps, but… surely not the direction of the spread…" Saul heard a loud crash, and the door flew open past the loose hinge and onto the floor. Three Peacekeepers, the federal guards of the District dressed all in white armor, burst into the room carrying tasers and guns. "I've suspected you were breaking the law for a long time, Saul. I just needed a confession before I could call them."
"But… why, sir?" he asked, as two of the men took him by the arms. He attempted to wrestle away, but it was no use. He wasn't strong enough. "What have I ever done to you?"
"It's not what you've done to me, but what you've done to yourself." Munrow took his bowl of porridge and set it down beside the sink. He turned and watched as Saul was hastily dragged from the doorway screaming. "Goodbye, Saul. I'll see you on the other side."
End of Chapter 3