Two girls.
Seventy-five feet up.
They aren’t supposed to be on the mountain.
Any other day, he would have sent a patrol to observe them from afar. Once they were determined not to be a threat–and the islanders are never a threat–he would order that they be left alone.
Today, he went himself, bringing Rader with him. He intended to survey the situation, to determine whether he would be forced to rearrange outdoor training exercises to account for the intrusion.
He left his troops with orders to wait and walked with Rader to a part of the hill where they could see the trespassers without being seen themselves.
There.
Two girls. One light, one dark. Their dresses too short and they seemed to hang on their thin frames.
Like many islanders, they were much too thin.
Of course, it was strategy that his people provided the islanders with enough food to live, but not to thrive. They were, after all, essentially prisoners.
The girls were nervous, jumping at the sound of rocks disturbed under their own feet. But they were smiling. Laughing softly at their fear and then urging each other to be quiet.
He was about to give the command, telling Rader that they would leave them in peace. Then, the wind shifted. He could smell them. In an instant, his attention centered on the dark-haired girl. She caught at her hair as it blew in the wind, unaware that she had been scented.
Marked.
He stepped out into the sunlight. Rader was surprised, but obedient. He followed him into the light.
#
He had them cornered before they even saw him. He was not wearing armor, but it was clear he was a warrior. He was impossibly large, his arms scarred, his long hair tied back with a leather cord.
She only became aware of him when his body blocked the sun. Despite his size, his approach had been silent. She stared at him for a moment, blinking in dumb surprise. Over and over, she had imagined a moment like this, steeling herself for the possibility that they might encounter the mountain dwellers, reasoning through a daring escape. Now, she couldn’t even run. Everything–the wind, the mountain, the tiny lizards running over the rocks–seemed to stand still as he looked at her, at Sheera, taking everything in.
Sheera’s father had warned them–if they ventured onto the mountain, they might be caught. Even if no one had been taken in at least ten years. Even if the daylight hours were usually safe.
#
Unfortunate that the girls were on the mountain. Any other day, it might not have mattered.
It was his order, in fact, that had led to the breach in the fence.
The berries grew thick on the sunny side of the mountain and the people in the lowlands were often hungry.
If some of them are brave, he would have them eat–more than the meagre rations that his people sent down monthly, as a sign of “peace.” And a reminder of their dominance.
Perhaps he always intended to punish the islander if they did grow bold.
Depending on the day.
His mood.
Fortune.
He had always been interested in fortune. Luck. It was luck that he was born as he was. Luck if someone else was born below the mountain. It was luck that the dark haired girl, still frozen under his gaze, was born as she was.
Fortune that brought her into his path.
He looked away, content that she would not try to run. He could sense the way her fear rooted her to the ground. There was no shame in it. He was frightening.
Her friend was attractive, too. Taller and thin, with gold hair.
Dark and light.
The friend stayed still as he looked her over, but her face was stormy. When his gaze moved appraisingly over her breasts, she bared her teeth at him and snarled.
He smiled. It was surprising, but taking into account what the dark girl was, it made sense.
“Take her back down the mountain,” he commanded Rader, pointing to the blonde. “She will insist on coming back up, but you are to ensure she stays. And ensure that no one else will follow.”
Rader obeyed without question. His gaze slanted towards the dark girl as he brushed past her. She collapsed against the stone face of the mountain in fear, curled up, as if to protect herself.
The blonde girl fought as soon as she saw Rader’s intent. She tried to run and he caught her handily. She screamed and lashed out, kicking and flailing as he caught her around the waist, seeking to bite and scratch.
“Lucy!” The girl screamed. “No! Lucy!”
Rader corralled her, stone-faced, and carried her away.
The dark-haired girl was still curled up in fear. As he approached, she unfroze, scrambling away him towards the faint protection of the trees.
In a single motion, he caught her, sweeping her up into the crook of his arm. She let out a small cry and tried to twist away from him, but she quieted easily when he squeezed her tight against him. He could feel her breathing, quick, short breaths. She was near tears, but she didn’t cry.
This pleased him.
He carried her twenty yards up the mountain to where the rest of his troops were gathered. With Rader occupied, he was forced to rely on another. They were all loyal–he knew that. But many of them were young and lacked control. With careful consideration, he chose five, including the only two women. He bound the girl’s hands in front of her quickly and handed her off to the chosen.
“Keep her out of sight.”
“No,” the girl said. The shock was wearing off. She struggled at the bonds. “Let me go. Let me–”
“Quiet,” he commanded. He paused, despite his hurry. He captured her gaze and held it. “You will be quiet. You will wait for me to return. You walked into a dangerous place and you will do as I say or you will die for it.”
She stilled again. Except for the wild up-and-down of her breath.
“Show me you understand. Nod.” He demonstrated and she mimicked him. Once, twice. “Good,” he said. “If she forgets, gag her.”
He moved quickly. He knew that Rader would ensure that no one else trespassed the section of downed fence. He would use the main gate.
#
There was already a crowd gathering when he reached the bottom of the mountain. It had been years since his people had taken anyone from below. When they first arrived on the island, it happened often. But they learned quickly that the islanders struggled to live in the caves that they called home. And the people were just as easily kept captive by other means.
It was an island, after all. It had been years since a boat or a plane had touched these shores.
Even so, the people had grown too bold. After ten years with no abductions, few deaths, they were too confident in their position.
This incident would remind them.
It would also stir old hatred. Perhaps, they would mount a rebellion. But these things could be dealt with. And he was keeping her.
He thought back to those last moments before he saw her, before he came out of the trees and saw them both, two girls in summer dresses–one light, one dark–climbing together in the thin, mountain air.
Fortune.
“Keep back!”
Someone in the crowd yelled as he approached.
A young man, inching perilously close to forbidden soil. Enraged.
“We’ve kept away! For years, we’ve kept away from you filthy beasts!” he shouted. “And now you’re coming to steal our women!”
“One of our girls show up half-dead and another gone missing!”
This, from an older woman standing behind him. She was still wearing a stained apron, coated in a thin dusting of flour. She had left her hearth to come confront them, joining the mob.
Beasts. Scum. Evil.
The mob chanted and swore. His own men at the gate clicked their swords together. Snipers would be at the ready in the perches hidden around the mountain. He knew this because he had a hand in planning all of it. How they lived. How they protected themselves. And what would happen if the odd, years-long circumstances of their uneasy truce ever changed.
He started to walk through the gates, expecting his men to fall aside. Instead, several of them stayed in place, their spears crossed over the only official entrance to the mountain.
“Let me pass,” he said.
“Sir, we haven’t swept the crowd for weapons. They are wild.”
“No, we are wild,” he said. “Do you dare to question my orders?”
Slowly, the spears moved aside. At his word, the gates were opened.
The mob did not, exactly, descend. There was an ebb and flow as some got closer and some sensed his power and skittered away, taking cover behind rocks or trees.
“We have captured one of your women on our mountain,” he said. “I will speak on this matter. According to our treaty, you may appoint a spokesperson.”
After a lull, a man came forward. He was middle aged, but strong. A man brave enough to confront him, he reasoned, but expendable if the tides turned.
“I will speak for us,” he said. “We only want Lucy safely returned.”
Lucy.
It angered him to have another man speak her name. Angered him that, until today, he had not known it. Had not known she existed.
“We have a treaty,” he said. He spoke firmly, loud enough that the people gathered at the base of the mountain could hear him, but not so loud that he was shouting.
“We have honored it,” said the man. “We want peace. The girls were wrong to trespass. They were hungry. They are young.”
“Not so young,” he said. The treaty made some small allowances for children. His people were not interested in harming children. “The treaty accounts for situations such as this.”
“The girls trespassed. It was wrong. But Sheera is injured and Lucy–if you return her to us–”
“You broke the rules,” he said. He spoke to the man, but he wanted all of them to know. “The matter will be decided according to the treaty. The girl stays on the mountain. Our peace is maintained. Any other option means war.”
“Sir, please,” said the man. He raised his hands as murmurs raced through the crowd. “Wait! We can reach an agreement. Please–”
“There is no negotiation. The treaty was your negotiation. The girls made a mistake. They will pay for it as it is written. But if you–you or anyone–” he said, taking in the crowd–“breach our mountain in a bid to rescue her, that is not a mistake. That is an act of war. We will respond accordingly. And your losses, I fear, will be great.”
The man looked broken. “What will I tell these people?” he said. “What will this do to our peace? What will I tell her parents? Her friends?”
“Tell them she lives,” he said. “Tell them she may see them again, although not for some time. When she is settled, perhaps, and accepts her fate.”
“You are evil!” A woman screamed from the crowd. “Cold, unfeeling, heartless! You’re a monster! You’re all monsters!”
He turned in her direction. “Remember it,” he suggested. Then, he walked back through the gates.