Five Stories for the Dark Months Read Online Free PDF Page B

guess.”
    The mounds seemed to watch the
travelers from beneath their heavy shrouds of snow. Shadows pooled
oddly in the crevices between them, and lingered where the
lantern’s light should have driven them off. “Hurry,” Jenna said,
walking faster. “This isn’t a good place to be at
night.”
    But by then it was too late, of
course.
    The dead rose like mist from their
graves: men, women and children, all stunted and gaunt, wearing the
wounds they’d died from. Some of them were missing eyes, arms,
heads. Others were naked, bruised and bleeding. They had died in
springtime, when the bluebells blossomed, and what clothes they
wore were ragged and thin, but they did not shiver. They floated
forward, murmuring things in voices too soft to hear.
    Arica had stopped short, wide-eyed.
Though her mouth was open, no sound came out.
    “Come on,” Jenna said, taking her
by the arm. “They probably can’t get through the light, but I don’t
want to take the chance. It’ll be better if we can put them a
little ways behind us.”
    When they had finally left the
grave mounds behind, they slowed down a little. Arica still
shuddered. She kept looking over her shoulder to where the dead
still followed them, slow and ceaseless.
    “You’ve really never seen a ghost
before?” said Jenna.
    “I mean, I
heard stories ,
but... they’re only legends! Myths! If I’d believed in something
like that, I’d never have be able to sleep at night!” She shuddered
again. “I may never sleep again! How do you keep them from your
houses?”
    “Fire keeps them
away. Uh... not fire, specifically , you know, but any
bright light. That’s why we keep lanterns at our doors.” She looked
up at the moon through the fog of her own breath. “And that’s why
moonless nights are the worst for traveling. If there had been a
new moon tonight, you might not have gotten me out of that house,
soldiers or not.”
    Arica was scanning
the sides of the road, as if expecting to see more of the dead
wandering between the trees. There might well have been more, but Jenna
certainly wasn’t going to mention it. One wanted a cool head on
one’s traveling companion.
    They passed through three more
cemeteries in the next hour. Each time, more spirits rose to join
their ghastly retinue. The dead moved slowly, and the girls’ pace
wasn’t too punishing, but stopping to rest was out of the
question.
    After a while, Arica pulled the
half-loaf of bread from her pocket. “Shall we eat?”
    “All right.” Jenna took out the
fish, split it in half, and handed one share to Arica, accepting
her half the bread in return.
    Arica raised her ration in sardonic
salute. “Eat well.”
    Smiling, Jenna returned the
gesture. “You know, tonight’s the solstice. We should be having sun
cakes and wine.”
    “You have sun cakes, too?”
    Jenna nodded. “Filled with
honey!”
    “Really? We use blackcurrant
jam.”
    Jenna wrinkled her nose. “That
sounds awfully strange.”
    Arica was peering through the trees
again. “What do you use for your burning tree?”
    “Fir, usually. And
you?”
    “The same!” Arica seemed delighted
by the similarity.
    “I’m surprised
you’re allowed to have burning trees,” Jenna said. “I heard your
government is completely godless. No offense,” she added.
    “No, you’re right. They don’t
generally approve. Sometimes they send out soldiers to harass the
people who keep the old feasts. They don’t mess much with our town,
though. We’re peasants, so it doesn’t matter what we
do.”
    Her tone was light, but there was
real bitterness under it. Jenna remembered what little she had
learned about Northern society. “I thought there weren’t supposed
to be any peasants in your country. Isn’t everybody supposed to be
equal?”
    “Supposed to be, yes. That’s the grand theory.” Arica
sneered. “Funny, isn’t it, how things never quite work out the way
you plan them to?”
    “Yes,” Jenna said softly.
“Funny.”
    They