12: Deva
Deva
The climb ended on the lip of the crater. They’d come up the steepest side—looking out to the west, toward the rest of the island, the descent levelled off, the rock and scree giving way to sporadic greenery, then disappearing into a thick forest. Some kilometres beyond this lay the sea.
There were different shades in that forest, places that could have been clearings. Deva swore she saw smoke rising, but it could’ve been a figment of her imagination.
When she looked behind, at the route they’d come, her head swam. She threw out her arms for balance, shuffled her feet. From up here, tiny buildings were visible at the crater’s heart, in that depression.
Kaiahive. Had to be.
Deva pulled off her pack, grabbed a couple of flasks, took long pulls from one, handed the other
