Sky Child by T. M. Brenner Read Free Book Online Page A

bones to the boneyard, which is a long walk from the Crag. We keep it far away from the cave because it brings animals. Black birds, wolves and other creatures like to come and pick the bones clean.
    I don't like going to the boneyard, because it always reminds me of death. So many skeletons. White pieces of once-living creatures sticking out. And not all of the skeletons are animals. There are bodies there too, hidden in the piles. Sometimes when a person disappears from the Crag, we look there. Sometimes they are found.
    As I approach the boneyard, handfuls of black birds scatter, flying into the air and away from me. The smell of rotting meat turns my stomach. I pick a place to dump the bones, away from any new piles, because flies are also a problem. If you drop your bones into a new pile, you will have flies following you for days. I unroll my blanket, and let the bones fall out. They make such a strange noise when they crash on the ground. I shake the blanket to make sure no small bones are stuck to it, roll it up then leave.
    Once I get back, we take our meat to the cooks so that they can be made into dinner. The cooks are part of the protectors, and learn how to defend themselves against animals. The reason they are not part of the harvest, hunters or keepers, is that the first group of people who lived in the Crag thought it best to give them some responsibility for the Crag's food. It also takes many people to cook, and clean dishes, and serve food, while it only takes a few to watch over the Crag. It gave the protectors about the same number of people as the other groups.
    "Thank you, Sam," says Cleave, the head cook.
    "What are you making tonight?" I ask.
    "Wolf stew. This pack were a bit thin, so the meat is tough. Cooking it for a while should help make it chew better," says Cleave.
    "I like your stew," I say.
    "It takes a while to make, but I like it too. It's worth it."
    I watch as Cleave cuts a pepper, and pulls out the round pieces of poison from inside. Some of our foods have poison in them, so to be safe, the cooks take out the dangerous parts and throws them in a basket. Each day, a member of the harvest comes for the basket, so that Chaff can get rid of the pieces of poison for us.
    I smile at Cleave and leave her to her work. We head back to our room, and I strip off my bloody clothes. I carry them and a bar of soap to the loud waters. Flot and Jet follow behind me. They know that they won't get dinner if they don't also clean up.
    When we get to the loud waters, there are already a few people there washing up. The loud waters is a stream in the cave that runs by very quickly, and makes a lot of noise. At one end, where the water first comes in, people are filling buckets with water. At the other, there are people washing their bodies and clothes.
    Soap can be made from the fat of the animals we kill. Only one person in the Crag makes soap, but unlike Chaff he is nice. He will share how to make it with anyone that is interested. His name is Echo, because he always stays in the caves. He has been told not to leave the Crag, because he has a hard time understanding things, and cannot protect himself.
    Echo always greets me with a smile. Not many people have a reason to smile in the Crag. I am glad that Echo is in charge of the soap, because he makes very good soap, and always gives me his best bar.
    I walk into the water holding my blood covered shirt. The water only goes as high as my ankles. New ones have to be careful not to fall though, or they can be swept away by it.
    I kneel down and put my shirt in the water, rubbing it with soap. I get as much blood off as I can. After I have rinsed the soap out of my shirt, I do the same with my pants, until I am sure that they are as clean as I can make them. Once I'm finished, I use the soap on my body, trying to get rid of the sweat, and blood, and memories of people dying.
    I twist and squeeze the water out of my clothes, grab my soap and head back to our