Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

too hard. I don’t want him to think I’m angry. I just don’t want him to kill it.

“Elder, do you really think my aim is that good? I’m not going to kill it. I couldn’t shoot a grizzly bear if it were five paces away. I’m not going to hit that tiny squirrel from fifty paces out.” The slingshot snaps. The rock flies.

“Stone! See! I told you!” The squirrel drops from the oak and bounces on the leaf-covered forest floor. “We have to save it.”

“Mother of Susy. I really hit it,” Stone whispers. “Brilliant!” He stands still, arm outstretched with the slingshot in hand. He doesn’t move for several clicks. His slack mouth morphs into a shining grin.

I must admit, it was a nice shot for a homemade slingshot.

“Stone, com’on! We gotta save it before it dies.”

“Oh, alright. Let’s go.”

We dash to where the squirrel dropped from the oak. I hope the damage isn’t too severe. If it’s minor, then Stone will be able to mend the injuries on the little guy. If it’s anything more than some broken bones, then we may have to put it out of its misery.

“Is it dead?” I ask.

“Umm…yeah. I think so,” he says. “Nailed it right in the jaw. See?” He grabs the squirrel by the tail and displays it a hand’s width from my face. Its motionless, with haunting almond eyes. Its lower jaw is dislocated.

“Let’s try to bring it back!” I suggest.

“What? Not a season ago you were hesitant on the idea.”

“Well, I was thinking…you remember how I told you death is tied directly to the revolution of the seasons?”

“Oh, that nonsense again?”

“Yeah, well I was thinking. I’m not fond of death. And I’m not fond of winter. And if death turns the seasons, then we can delay winter too.” My voice unintentionally squeaks higher as I continue. “We can save lives and stall the winter solstice. Right?”

“That’s stupid! You can’t stop time by saving lives.”

“Not time. The seasons. If you can believe in some magical god that created and controls the seasons, then why can’t I believe in this? It’s not stupid.”

“It is stupid.” Stone grins. “But it’s a good enough reason to try.”

He’s going to attempt to bring it back to life. My body lights up with excitement. Is it possible? Will he be able to do it? The squirrel has only been dead for a click. It must be possible.

Stone places the limp squirrel on a bed of leaves and cradles his hands around it. He closes his eyes.

First, the muddy brown leaves around the squirrel give way to an olive green, which then brightens until they’re as vibrant as a spring sprout. Grass and clovers bloom around the squirrel, and it is soon lying in the middle of a lively green patch of forest floor that started as a decaying pile of fallen leaves. Stone’s hands ebb away as he opens his eyes. We stare and wait. Several clicks pass, and nothing happens. The excitement in my heart fades. I was hopeful. I genuinely believed he could do it. We both look down on it with shrugging shoulders, then the squirrel twitches. We look at one another, eyes wide in disbelief, making sure the other witnessed the same thing.

“Stone?” his mother’s voice calls. Wicked timing. “Stone, what are you doing? It’s time for worship.”

Stone checks back in to reality with a distraught look on his face.

“Dang! Your mom ruined it. Did you see it? Did you feel it? The squirrel was right there. It was coming to life. What did it feel like? Could you feel its soul? Were you talking to it? How does it work?”

“I-I’m not sure what I felt. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good. I’m glad my mother disrupted it.”

Shae steps off the stone pathway that meanders away from their home into the oak forest and heads in our direction. She’s dressed in a pale-blue, silk evening gown.

Before she reaches us, Stone ruffles the leaves and partially covers the squirrel, trying to conceal as much of the lively green patch as possible. I don’t think he has reason to hide it, but it’s clear he feels ashamed of what he’s attempted.

“Lady McLarin, you look beautiful this evening…” I say to her. “…but the boots aren’t really working with the dress.” I can’t resist. She dons bulky bearskin boots under her knee-length, elegant dress. Even a youth of ten seasons is aware she looks ridiculous.

“Thank you, Elder. And yes, I realize the boots are an eyesore. I had to flee the stone pathway to come find you two out here. I did not want to soil my flats.” There is irritation in her stern voice.

“Sorry, Mother,” replies Stone.

“Sorry, Lady McLarin.”

“Come on, you two. Let’s get back to the house to clean up before the festivities. The rest of the family is nearly ready, and you two have been hiding out here doing only Susy knows what.” She glances around, and Stone wiggles in front of the dead squirrel so she doesn’t see it.

After washing up and donning our formal attire for the evening, we make way to the foyer, where the remainder of the family is waiting. Most everyone wears garb according to the color of their race on a day-to-day routine, but because this is a formal event, it is not merely for style, it is an expectation. Being a Dihkai, I’ve donned a black jacket and matching trousers, which I’ve borrowed from the McLarins, along with a white button-down shirt and black bowtie. Stone had to assist me with the tie. It’s a fashion for the privileged. They also lent me polished black shoes so shiny I can see my reflection. My family isn’t awarded the luxury of formalwear.

Naturalists accept the fact everyone has their own beliefs. And