The Bend in the Road

The grown-ups all said there was nothing anyone could do to stop the war, but Nessa Keensof was going to prove them wrong.

The only problem was one little word. How?

A cool wind blew and goosebumps prickled Nessa’s arms. Through the waning light, she kept her gaze fixed on the bend in the road around the mountain slope hardly a dragon’s breadth from the front porch. She’d keep watching until darkness swallowed it. . . or until she got too cold.

Nessa shivered. The taste of autumn rode on the wind. How could the season be changing yet again? It felt like both a year and a day ago that the flowers had bloomed, the first earthquake had spread across the province, and Papa had disappeared around that very bend in the road.

Just thinking about it made her insides ache. If she wished hard enough, she could almost conjure an image of him there, walking home with a spring in his step as he’d done when coming back from work. Before everything had changed.

“I promise, Papa,” she whispered. “I’ll bring you home.”

The wind sprang up, bouncing Nessa’s blonde curls playfully as if approving of her solemn oath. Nessa smiled, but soon frowned again as a persistent problem plagued her mind.

How could one child end a whole war?

A door opened behind Nessa. Footsteps padded on the wooden porch and, like magic, a steaming cup of tea and a biscuit plunked down beside her. Nessa inhaled deeply. There was something wonderful about the scent of floral tea mingled with the rich smell of a freshly baked brown biscuit carried on the crisp dusk air.

“Thanks, Mama,” Nessa said without turning.

Mama gently kissed her head, then left. Nessa lifted the teacup and took a sip. The tea was too hot, so she swished it around in her mouth before swallowing, feeling the rough burns left behind on her tongue. Mama said that if Nessa wasn’t more patient with her tea, she’d get so many burns that she wouldn’t even be able to taste it anymore. Nessa couldn’t help it; that first piping hot sip was always the best.

When the teacup was nearly drained and the only remnants of the biscuit were crumbs on the saucer, Nessa felt it—a rumble deep within the earth like a dire warning from the ground itself. Her stomach seemed to turn inside out. She looked at the emerging stars twinkling above and wished she could ask one where Papa was. What would the earthquake feel like where he was, so near to the Central Forest?

The door to the house opened again. “Time for dinner,” Mama announced.

Nessa stood with her teacup and saucer. The pungent smell of fish wafting from within the house told her Mama wasn’t lying, but she knew the real reason why dinner was suddenly ready. The earthquakes hadn’t yet caused any severe damage in Rockpoint, as it was situated at the very fringes of the Outskirts, but Nessa often saw Mama glance warily at the mountain towering above them. When the quakes started, Mama always made up some excuse for Nessa to come inside.

Before she walked through the door, Nessa cast one last glance over her shoulder. She could just make out the bend in the road through the darkness but, as usual, it was empty. With a silent sigh, Nessa walked into the house and closed the door behind her.

Mama bustled around the dinner table, setting down plates and glasses. Nessa noticed there were only two places set.

“Where’s Aster?” she asked as she placed her teacup on the kitchen counter.

Mama smiled sadly. “He wanted dinner in his room again.”

Nessa’s breath caught as she looked at the ceiling. Aster’s room was directly above her head, but no one would have ever known that its occupant was a young boy; it was completely silent.

“I hate it when he does that,” she grumbled, looking down to hide her obvious flash of excitement as she slid into her chair. A jumble of confusing feelings gathered within her at the thought of her younger brother—feelings that could mostly be summed up as irritation.

And yet, there was a thrilling spark buried somewhere within it all. Aster’s absence could only mean one thing, and it took all of Nessa’s concentration to halt her imagination in its tracks. She could dream after dinner.

Mama reached across the table and squeezed Nessa’s hand. “He needs his space just like you do.”

“At least I don’t hide in my room all day and ignore my family.”

“He’s not ignoring you, and you know that. He’d talk if you asked.” A twinkle came into Mama’s eye. “Besides, Aster hiding in his room isn’t so different from you camping out on the front steps.”

Nessa didn’t have a good response for that so she bowed her head in preparation for the prayer she knew was coming. She barely heard Mama’s heartfelt words of gratitude to the Lord of All. Little did Mama know how close her words struck to Nessa’s deepest fears. How long had Nessa sat out there day after day, waiting, watching, thinking, and not getting any closer to actually stopping the war? The thought of all the wasted time made her middle feel hollow.

But what else could she do?

As Mama finished and Nessa opened her eyes, the meal before her only made her heart race more frantically. She didn’t mind having canned fish and pickle salad again; in fact, she still quite liked it. But she knew from the whisperings at school that most families weren’t so fortunate. The war had stunted trade, destroyed crops, turned farmers into warriors. Mama and Papa were some of the few who had planned for disaster long in advance.

The cool wind Nessa had felt outside was only the first whisper of the winter lying in wait at the end of autumn. What would happen if the war was still going on then? Without coal, wood, or food, would anyone in Rockpoint survive?

Suddenly, the strong smell of dinner turned Nessa’s stomach. She pushed food around on her plate and forced herself to take a tiny bite. If she didn’t eat, Mama would fuss.

“I know pickle salad is getting a bit old, but make sure you eat up,” Mama said as if she could hear Nessa’s thoughts. “Tea and biscuits won’t keep you going forever.”

Nessa nodded and took another bite, barely tasting it before she gulped it down. Her stomach still roiled, but as long as she ate quickly, she didn’t think she’d be sick.

“I’m going to the post office the day after tomorrow,” Mama said, obviously trying to brighten her voice. “Do you want to come?”

Nessa sat up, letting her fork fall to her plate. She nodded vigorously.

Mama smiled. “We should have a letter this time. Your father promised.”

And when Papa promised something, he always did it. Which was why Nessa tried not to think about what it would mean if there was no letter waiting.

Before her thoughts could turn too dismal, a gentle thump from the second floor captured her attention. Something shuffled above her head, moved across the floor, then shuffled back.

He’s done!

Nessa tore into her food, shovelling it into her mouth like she’d never eat again. As soon as the last bite was swallowed she opened her mouth to ask if she could be excused, but Mama beat her to it.

“Go ahead.”

Nessa grinned. She drained her glass of water in one gulp, took her plate to the sink, and hurried up the stairs, just remembering to call over her shoulder, “Thanks for dinner, Mama!”

Nessa took the steps two at a time, hopping up the stairs in record time. She raced down the upstairs hallway, flung open the door to her room, and pounced onto the piece of parchment waiting on her bed.

“The Griffin Chronicles, by Aster Keensof,” it read in bold letters at the top.

And as soon as Nessa read the words “Chapter Three,” she forgot all about the war.