The Last

by Katherine Applegate

We didn’t want to believe our days were numbered. But here is what we did know: once we’d been many, and now we were few.

I didn’t want to heal. I wanted to kill, or to die, and the two things were one in my mind.

You are the runt, I told myself bitterly. A disappointment at your only task in life, which is to do your best, like all dairnes, to stay quietly alive. It was my own fault I’d been captured. My own fault I didn’t die bravely with my pack. There was no valor in being the last to survive. Only humiliation and gut-wrenching guilt.

There are many scholars, but few seekers after truth. Humans believe the things that make them feel safe. They care little for difficult facts.”

“It’s humans who hate your kind,” Gambler said. “They hate that you make it impossible for them to lie. And they hate us, the felivets, because we raise our voices against them in their mad wars for conquest. They have purged the world of dairnes, but we won’t be far behind. And then the raptidons will be brought down, and the terramants will find men with spears and arrows waiting for them at the mouths of their tunnels. In the end, humans will attempt to destroy even the natites, although there, they may have great difficulty. Still,” Gambler said with a heavy sigh, “never underestimate the human when it comes to duplicity and slaughter.”

“There is only one way to fight lies,” Tobble said firmly. “With truth.”

I fought back tears. “This hope of mine is ridiculous. And I’m a fool.” “True enough,” said Tobble. “You were a fool to rescue me.” “You were a fool to trust me,” said Gambler. “You were a fool to believe me,” said Khara. I sighed. How had it come to this? “Well,” I said at last, “It seems we agree that I am a fool.” “So, my fool of a dairne,” Khara said. “Which way?” We turned north.

“Is that all humans care about?” I asked. “Power?” Khara patted me on the back. “Not all humans, Byx. Just most of them.”

And then Renzo did the last thing I would have expected of the glib thief. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “I am a mere thief, untrustworthy, unreliable, and sadly”—he gave a wry grin—“incapable of behaving myself properly. But I offer my humble services to the living heir of the Donatis, the wielder of the Light of Nedarra. Your servant, if you will have me.” Khara then did the last thing I would have expected from her. She did not laugh or mock. Her face was more serious than I had ever seen it outside of combat. “Do you swear to obey me in all things?” she asked. “Mmmm,” Renzo said, “how about . . . most things?” Tobble snorted a laugh and quickly slapped his hand over his mouth.