Happy Friday everyone! It's that time again. I am, as promised, busy plucking away at the first edit of book 4 of the Amber Aerie Series. In the meantime Here is chapter 4 of Cassidy's story.

CHAPTER 4
The orchard was massive. Lines of towering trees as far as the eye could see, the grasses in between golden, topped with seed spires of deep purple that faded into a dusky pink.
They had come into the orchard from a large break in a medieval looking stone wall, and appeared to be situated on a hill. Below the grove in which they stood one could get a sense of the different species that had once been tended here. Leaves of different colors, greens and reds, purples...even blue clumped together in their own sections, though it seemed that nature was at work here as well and seedlings had sprouted into sections that were not their own.
For a moment all Cassidy could do was to breathe. She’d thought Openshire orchard, where she had grown up, was a magnificent stretch of beauty. This was, by far the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. What must it have been when the city was still thriving and it was tended?
The wet season was coming to an end and it must be the natural blooming cycle for many of the species because flowers filled the branches and a heavy sweet scent permeated the air. Nearly overpowering in its strength.
It threw her memories back to earth, to peach blossoms and the hopefulness of spring and she stood, rooted in those memories until Lim clasped a hand on her shoulder once more.
“I’ll show you to the Zapata grove,” he told her.
They moved easily down the open space between rows, the beautiful grass falling beneath their feet. The other Livarians of the party spread out into the trees a little, weapons drawn and alert, but not worried looking.
The hill gave way to a steep valley with stony sides and a small creek bed that looked to have been dug out and shaped by hand. Crystalline waters gurgled along the stone casing, the ripples and trickles singing to her ears. Tiny birds raced along the treetops.
She had to be honest with herself she could happily spend the rest of her life wondering these grounds…
If it weren’t for the predators.
And that thought, and the memory of the winged beast and just how easily it had swooped down upon its prey shut down her longing immediately. She would be happy to be within the borders of the energy field once more.
After crossing the stream and following the valleys of the gentle hills for what felt like hours—though it was probably only half an hour or so—they came to a stretch of smaller plants, no more than twice her height. The trunks were a smooth, dull gray, the small marks that dotted them slightly darker. These trees were not flourishing. The leaves were an anemic looking purple, drooping and wilted, or dried and brown as if they had crumpled and burned. The few flowers they had were white and wilted, the petals either limp or gone entirely.
The diseased grove then.
Cassidy closed in on the nearest tree, noting the sad state of its leaves. The ends of the branches were brittle and snapped easily between her fingers, instead of flexible and soft. On closer inspection the trunk, too, looked to be affected. A reddish sap seeping from some of the holes, like blood pouring from a wound.
“We noticed it first in early rain season, but it has spread ten-fold since then,” Lim told her.
Cassidy pursed her lips. And looked around the grove. Quickly progressing, yet, here and there she could see a tree that still appeared healthy.
“All the same species? The Zapata?” She asked.
Lim scratched at one of his furred ears. “At first. But it has spread farther now.” He pulled a tablet like device out of the sack he carried and showed it to her. The picture on the screen was a basic outlay of the orchard, the trees divided into sections according to species. Red dots indicated disease affected trees, concentrated toward the center of the Zapata grove, but with no discernible pattern otherwise. Random, almost.
A wind pressed against the grasses and shook the leaves around her.
Cassidy looked up from the tablet. “It’s not wind driven,” she muttered.
“The pattern isn’t right,” Lim agreed.
Cassidy looked back at the screen. There, at the edge of the Zapata grove and into the grove of another species was a large section of unaffected trees. “Is this a glitch?” she asked.
Lim gestured for her to follow and they worked their way through the disease ridden Zapatas and toward a species with a reddish bark and deep purple leaves. Here the plants were healthy and strong. Every one of them, even those with diseased neighbors.
“Why are these trees unaffected?” she wondered.
Lim shrugged. “I was put on orchard duty because I know a lot about carving wood. I’m not so good a wood that’s still alive.”
“Huh,” Cassidy frowned. “Some team we make.”
She didn’t miss Lim’s defeated look, or the slump of his shoulder.
“It could be insects,” she ventured. “Do you have access to pesticides?”
It was Lim’s turn to frown. “The city come took care of most of that. Livarians were not big on chemical interventions.”
Yet they had died of a constructed virus. It would be ironic if it wasn’t so damned sad.
She studied the orchard.
“The only thing I can suggest is to cut down the affected trees and burn them, and keep going until the disease is eradicated.”
Her parents had to do that one summer when a blight got into the peach trees. They had lost a good portion of the orchard. The owners had nearly gone broke but all of the employees had taken a wage cut instead of anyone losing their jobs. That had been a hard summer all around.
Lim’s expression was so devastated Cassidy grabbed at the tablet and stared at the screen rather than meet his gaze. Why couldn’t she know anything actually useful? Failure was a tough pill to swallow.
She ignored the sound of his footsteps walking away, the sound of his soft voice in the light tool.
There was something about the healthy grove that was odd. There were too many good trees, too closely together for it to be a coincidence.
“Lim?” she called suddenly.
Lim was several trees away talking into the light tool and staring toward the crown of the trees. He turned at the sound of her voice.
She hesitated, because, in reality, she was probably just wasting time, but an idea was taking hold and she couldn’t shake it.
“Don’t burn anything yet,” she told him. “Can we take some samples?”
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