Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

halfway underwater. We’ll have to move to the next higher crook.
    Nonetheless, the tree stands straight; it will not succumb. Which brings to my mind the most interesting thing I have noticed about the trees so far. This other thing is also part of balance, just like the spiraling branches, I’m sure: The total thickness of the branches at any given height seems to be just about the same as the thickness of the trunk. I am proud of this discovery. This is what allows the cedar to grow so tall without falling over. Maybe all trees do this. There are no trees but cedars in sight, and I can’t remember them well enough to envision a tree and try to make the mental measurements. But I like the idea that it might be a trick unique to cedars. I like the idea that cedars are somehow special. That would be fitting, given that all other types of trees are completely underwater. The cedars will be the last to die.
    Because we are all going to die. Everyone and everything.
    I pluck off a cone—it comes easily now, no wrestingneeded—and take a bite. It goes down my throat without a hitch. My body always seems to rid itself of a cone at the other end in almost the same form it entered me. So maybe cones aren’t food at all. But chewing and swallowing helps ease the pain in my stomach. Usually. Right now, though, it doesn’t help at all. The sudden memory of boar meat makes my tongue fat. We gorged on it before it rotted. But it’s been days without proper food now. Days and days.
    I go back to the crook and brush my cheek against Aban’s ear. He wakes with that dazed look he’s had for a while, as though he’s constantly confused. Then he sees me and smiles. The idiot. I can’t help but smile back, though.
    “There’s a fire somewhere,” I say.
    Aban stares at me blank-faced. Well, of course. Who would believe it? I don’t believe it. My wishful mind has conjured up the smell of burning wood simply because heat would be such a delight. Oh, to be so hot we’re uncomfortable.
    Aban is still staring. Then his nose twitches. He blinks and his eyes change. They look sharp. I haven’t seen him look so sharp since the day he killed the boar. He gets to his feet quickly, but is careful to push me toward the trunk so he doesn’t knock me from the tree. It always surprises me how careful he is not to jostle me. I don’t know how to put this together with the boy who slapped me that first night. He’s changed. Well, of course. The rain has changed everything. Aban walks out to where I was standing just a moment before and points.
    I follow his finger. A cedar is on fire. It’s the only one uphill from us. The fire is real. I should have trusted my nose. And if I didn’t, I should have noticed it with my eyes. Maybe I’m as dazed as Aban is. Maybe more.
    Aban’s lips protrude in thought. “Sebah? Sebah, where did you put my club?”
    His question worries me. We are living in a tree, after all. Everything is within sight. He should know exactly where the club is. But maybe he just doesn’t want to climb. I climb higher and extend down to him the club, which was nestled in the topmost branches.
    He takes it and swings fast and hard, energy coming from some secret reserve. The club slams against the branch he’s holding on to right at the point where it meets the trunk. It splits away from the trunk just a little. Aban swings again. Slam!
    “What are you doing? Don’t hurt the tree! I love this tree.” I drop down onto the branch beside Aban, blocking his access to the injured branch above. “This tree saves us.”
    “Don’t you see? Look around. Look!” His neck is so thin, the ropes inside him stand out against his skin as he shouts.
    I look around. “What? What am I to see?”
    “Our tree is the highest point now. Lightning will take it next.”
    Of course he’s right. “So? We can swim to another tree when that happens.”
    “I can’t swim.”
    How could I forget? But swimming to another tree would only be a