The Forgetting by Sharon Cameron EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Sharon Cameron
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Dystopian eBooks
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- Size: 2 MB
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I am going to be flogged, and I don’t know why I’m so surprised about
it. No one could take this many risks and never get caught. I don’t want
to be caught. I drop flat onto my back without a sound, stretching full
length along the top of the wall, a wall that’s only a little wider than I am.
There’s a long drop on either side. I clutch my pack to my chest, squint my
eyes against the brightness of the sky. No. I’ve always known I would get
caught. I just didn’t think it would be today.
I chance another quick glimpse over the edge of the wall. There are two
people down there, standing close together in the shaded alley, my rope
ladder dangling just above their heads. I don’t think they’ve seen it, and I
don’t think they’ve seen me, though practically everyone else can. The
walled city of Canaan spreads like a wide and shallow bowl of winking
glass and white stone below me, and here I lie, ten meters high on its rim.
Just one set of eyes on the streets during the resting, awake—as I am, as
those two below me are—one pair of hands pulling aside a sleeping curtain
from a well-positioned window, and they will see. And they will come for
me.
My fingers find the twisted rope of the ladder, tied to a metal ring sunhot and burning through the cloth of my leggings. I could pull up the ladder,
flip it back over to the forbidden side of the wall, climb down, and wait
until they’ve gone. Or I could try jumping for the roof of the Archives. That
would be an easy drop, only the width of the alley and a meter or so down.
But that roof is thatch instead of turf, the pitch steep, and how could either
of those people in the alley not notice a girl jumping over their heads? Or
the ladder pulling back up, for that matter? It’s a miracle they missed it
coming over the wall the first time.
And so I force myself into stillness, into patience. Balanced high inside
the dome of the blue-violet sky, the white city on one side, a wilderness of
mountain and waterfall on the other, eight weeks of the sun’s trapped heat
scorching my back through the wall stones. I’m not good at patience. The
wind blows, a hot, swirling breath, and I wonder if it can push me off this
wall; I wonder which side I’d rather fall on. Two words float up from the
shaded alley.
“How many?”
It’s the kind of question asked when you think you haven’t heard right. I
know most of the people of Canaan, at least by sight, though not by the tops
of their heads. But the murmur of the answering voice I know right away.
Polite. Always pleasant. It’s Jonathan of the Council, enforcer of Canaan’s
many rules. Finding him in defiance of those rules is my second nonsurprise of the day.
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