Elemental Hunger by Elana Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

faded, moving back toward the abandoned city. I watched until I couldn’t see the vehicle anymore. Then I turned and ran the other direction. At least I tried. Yesterday’s rain had frozen overnight, leaving the black pavement shiny with ice. I fell more than once, but refused to stop. On the plus side: No snow meant no trail for a sentry to follow.
    I drank a handful of water every hour or so. By nightfall, pale yellow lamps winked in the distance.
    A city.
    I passed my hands over my boyish haircut. I needed more time to prepare my cover story, so I walked as close to the cheery light as I dared and stopped. With the assistance of the half-moon, the city wall glared down at me.
    A grove of trees a hundred yards off the road provided decent shelter from the wind. I hunkered down next to a thick trunk and tried to sleep.
    Problem #1: The cold seeped into my very soul.
    Problem #2: My stomach wasn’t happy with my dietary choices.
    Problem #3: My feet twinged with pain. I felt sure I’d rubbed off my partially-healed blisters.
    Problem #4: I couldn’t turn off my mind.
    I need a boy’s name.
    A boy’s voice.
    A way through the city gates.
    After a few hours, I gave up trying to sleep.
    I gripped a can of soup, wanting my hands to smolder without bursting into fire. Bright flames erupted, and I cursed as I tried to shut off the power before someone saw, or I went blind.
    Finally, the flames burned out. I shook my hands, thinking I desperately needed training to control my Element. At least my mistake had warmed the soup. I ate it quickly and snuck to the gate. With walls this short, and no forest to stand guard, I assumed this city was more of a village. I wondered if Councilman Ferguson controlled this region, or only the city of Crylon. I realized that I knew very little about the United Territories—in fact, only what my Councilman allowed me to know.
    I did see the patchwork of fields along both sides of the highway I’d walked on. Surely Unmanifested workers had to leave the city to tame the fields. With my back pressed to stone, I waited. Hopefully, no one would pay attention to another person in rags.
    The sky lightened by degrees until finally the gate opened. I shrank back as the door widened.
    Footsteps sounded.
    I slunk to the edge of the door.
    No one glanced up.
    I slipped toward the entrance. Just a few more feet….
    “Hey!”
    I jumped but kept moving. A man with arms the size of tree trunks strode toward me. “You there!”
    Automatically, I dropped my gaze to the ground. The guard came closer. I kept moving toward the open street beyond the city wall.
    He stepped. I stepped.
    “Your shovel,” he said. He held something toward a man in line.
    I ran the last few steps into the city and found refuge in the shadows along the wall.
    This city was much more primitive than Crylon, and I knew instantly that it had to house only Unmanifested people. Elementals would never live in the conditions I saw before me.
    The roads were dirt—okay, more like mud with the unrelenting weather—and the houses patched together with poles and leaves. People wore mismatched clothes; their hair and faces looked dirty and pinched.
    I stared as the guards closed the gate and continued down the street. I watched as the few people who were out moved with purpose, accomplishing their tasks quickly and without commotion. They looked driven, but happy. I’d never heard of a city—okay, village—where only Unmanifested people lived. I wondered what the Supreme Elemental gained by letting them live apart from the rest of society.
    Maybe they don’t, I thought, throwing a look over my shoulder as if I’d find a Firemaker there, his eyes blazing with angry flames. The alley lay empty, but I still speculated that the Supreme Elemental would never allow Unmanifested people to congregate and govern themselves.
    While our current Supremist wasn’t as cruel as the first Firemaker, he still ruled the United Territories with fear and