Page 145 of Ripe

The kernels aren’t yellow.

They’re red.

Deep, unnatural red, darkening toward black in places and glistening beneath the moonlight like wet rubies.

I stop breathing.

The Bride whispers, “First fruit.”

Malakai looks sick. “What does that mean?”

She ignores him.

The corn splits wider.

Something is inside.

Not kernels.

A shape. Small. Curled.

No. No no no.

My stomach heaves.

Ezra rips the ear from the stalk before I can see more. He throws it and it hits the dirt splitting open on impact but there’s nothing inside just red kernels.

I stare.

I know what I saw…or what I thought I saw.

The Bride laughs. “The Bride carries.”

“No.”

I fight against the dirt.

“The Bride grows.”

“No.”

“The Bride feeds.”

“NO.”

Malakai grabs my face. “Sage.”

I look at him.

“Listen to me.”

I can’t breathe. “Kai.”

“You are not carrying anything.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No.” His forehead presses against mine. “I don’t.”