Hi Freewriters (and other readers!) I wrote this speculative flash fiction inspired by some of my experiences living on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. It's the first bit of fiction I'm sharing on Hive, and would love any feedback I can get from the community!
The creek wasn’t much to look at, but it had teeth: little stone ones that the slow trickle it flowed at couldn’t dull. Juni’s sneakers slipped on one as they crossed, arms windmilling until they found balance again. Maren didn’t turn, didn’t slow. She kept moving with that same relentless, easy stride, like she knew exactly where she was going and had no intention of waiting for anyone who didn’t.
“Careful,” she said over her shoulder, her voice flat, not unkind but not particularly concerned either.
“Careful,” Juni muttered, mimicking her under their breath. The rocks were sharp, the water cold where it splashed over their shoes. “Why’s everything out here trying to kill me?”
“It’s not trying to kill you,” Maren said without looking back. “It’s just here. You’re the one who doesn’t know how to handle it.”
Juni bit back a retort, focusing instead on the market sprawling out ahead of them on the other side of the creek. It was a patchwork of tarps and posts, bright colors stretched over crude frames, with people moving between them like bees in a hive. There were smells—smoke, something roasting—and sounds—hammers on metal, voices haggling or shouting or laughing—and none of it made sense to Juni.
Maren stopped just before they hit the edge of the market and turned to face them. “Alright, rules. Don’t take anything unless you’ve got something to trade, don’t make promises you can’t keep, and don’t drift.”
“Drift?”
“Don’t wander. Don’t get distracted. Don’t go touching things you don’t understand. Don’t eat anything unless you know where it came from or who made it.”
Juni nodded, though they weren’t sure they’d remember half of it. Maren didn’t wait for a response, just turned and walked into the market. Juni scrambled to follow, trying not to bump into anyone or trip over anything.
They caught up just as Maren’s attention snapped to a commotion near the center of the stalls. Voices were rising, sharp and angry, cutting through the hum of the crowd. Without a word, Maren veered toward the noise, her steps purposeful.
Juni hesitated, then followed.
“You call this a saw?” a wiry woman was shouting, holding up a bent, rusted tool with jagged, uneven teeth. “You said you’d bring me something I could use, and this—this isn’t even scrap!”
“It’s what I’ve got,” the other trader shot back, his voice defensive, his stance tense. He was stockier than the woman, younger maybe, though it was hard to tell. “Take it or leave it.”
Maren slid between them, her presence immediately shifting the dynamic. “What’s going on?”
The wiry woman turned to her, frustration flashing in her eyes. “Rye promised me a pruning saw. What he brought me is garbage.” She shook the rusted thing for emphasis, and it rattled like an old tin can.
Rye folded his arms. “I didn’t promise you anything specific. I said I’d find a saw. That’s a saw.”
“That’s not a saw,” the woman snapped. “That’s a joke.”
Maren sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Alright. Let’s calm down—”
Juni barely registered the rest. Their attention had drifted to a man sitting off to the side, hunched over on an overturned crate. He muttered something under his breath, his hands hanging limp between his knees.
“What?” Juni asked, stepping closer.
The man looked up, startled, as if he hadn’t realized anyone was paying attention. “Huh?”
“You said something. About fire?”
“Oh.” He straightened slightly, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah. Wildfires. That’s what she’s mad about, you know. She needs that saw to prune the firebreak. Without it... well. One spark and the whole ridge goes up.”
Juni blinked, glancing back toward the argument. “Can’t someone just... get her a better one?”
“Sure,” the man said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Why don’t you go down to the corner store and pick one up for her?”
Juni frowned, not quite understanding. “I mean, there’s gotta be someone here who has—”
“There’s not,” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. “That’s the point. Tools like that don’t grow on trees, and we don’t have the means to make them. Not out here.”
Juni hesitated, then said, “I could get one.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You? From where?”
“I don’t know,” Juni admitted. “But I could figure it out.”
For the first time, the man smiled. “Alright, then. You find her a saw, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He reached into his pack and pulled out something wrapped in wax paper and handed it to Juni.
Juni took it, peeling back the edges of the paper to reveal a thick, glossy strip of something dark and sticky. It smelled sweet, tangy, unlike anything they’d ever had before. They bit into it without thinking, their eyes widening as the flavor hit them—rich and bright and startlingly real.
“This is amazing,” they said around a mouthful.
“Yeah,” the man said, still smiling. “It is.”
“Juni,” Maren’s voice cut in, sharp and unmistakable.
Juni turned, still chewing. Maren was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
“What,” she said, her tone low and dangerous, “did you just do?”
Juni wasn’t sure if Maren was more furious or tired, but either way, it wasn’t good.
“You promised him a saw?” she asked, her voice tight. “Do you even know where to get one?”
“Not exactly,” Juni admitted.
Maren shook her head, muttering something under her breath. “Of course you don’t. Why would you?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Juni said quickly. “It’s just a saw, right?”
Maren stopped walking and turned to face them fully. “It’s not just a saw,” she said, her words clipped and deliberate. “It’s a tool we can’t make and can’t trade for. They might have one at the city's closest arborist station."
“Then how do you get saws?”
“We don’t,” Maren said. “Unless we take them from the city.”
Juni hesitated. “Isn’t that... stealing?”
Maren’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “They stole it first. All of it. And they’d let the whole place rot before they’d give us a scrap. So, no, it’s not stealing. It’s survival.”
Juni looked down at the strip of fruit leather in their hand, the taste still lingering on their tongue. “I didn’t know it was this complicated,” they said quietly.
“Of course you didn’t,” Maren muttered. “Alright. You made the promise, so you’re carrying the load. Let’s go.”
The arborist station sat on a rise overlooking the creek, squat and gray against the rocky landscape. Its concrete walls were streaked with rust, and weeds sprouted from cracks in the foundation. A tangle of wires dangled from the roof where solar panels once sat, though a few broken frames still clung stubbornly to their mounts.
Maren led the way up the hill, her pace steady and unbothered, while Juni lagged behind, the heavy pack pulling at their shoulders.
“What’s in this thing, bricks?” Juni grumbled.
“EMP,” Maren said without looking back. “Small enough to carry, heavy enough to make you regret it. Don’t drop it.”
Juni shifted the pack, wincing as the straps dug into their shoulders. “You do this a lot?”
“Enough to know what I’m doing,” Maren said. “Not enough to stop hating it.”
They reached the door, a heavy metal slab that had once been painted green but was now faded to a sickly brown. Maren set the EMP device against the keypad beside it, her movements quick and practiced. A faint pop and a flicker of lights later, the door unlocked with a soft click.
“Easy,” Maren said, pushing the door open.
The air inside was stale and heavy, thick with the smell of dust and old grease. Rows of shelves lined the walls, stacked with tools, seed bags, and equipment in various states of disrepair. A small counter at the back was cluttered with papers and empty containers, as if someone had left in a hurry and never come back.
Juni followed Maren inside, their footsteps muffled by the thin layer of dirt on the floor.
“This place looks... untouched,” Juni said, their voice hushed.
“It’s not,” Maren said, already scanning the shelves. “But it might as well be.”
She moved quickly, her eyes flicking over the labels on boxes and crates until she stopped in front of a shelf near the back. She pulled down a case and opened it, revealing a set of pruning saws, their teeth sharp and gleaming.
“Found them,” Maren said, handing two to Juni. “Pack these up.”
Juni hesitated, their hands lingering on the saws. “Why do they just leave this here? I mean, the city has all this—tools, equipment, resources—but it’s just... sitting here, rotting.”
Maren glanced at them, her expression unreadable. “Because they don’t care. Not about this place, not about us. Keeping it here is easier than figuring out who might actually need it.”
Juni frowned, their gaze drifting to the rest of the shelves. Some of the boxes were covered in dust, others still looked pristine, like they’d been delivered yesterday. “It’s not just about us, though. Even people in the arcology don’t have enough sometimes. My neighbor had to wait three months to get her food allotment increased after her kid was born. And this—” They gestured around the room. “This is just sitting here?”
Maren didn’t respond right away. She stuffed the saws into the pack Juni was still holding and zipped it shut. “The city’s broken,” she said finally. “Always has been. You just didn’t notice until you stepped outside of it.”
Juni opened their mouth to reply, but the sound of a faint hum stopped them.
“What’s that?” Juni asked, their voice sharp with unease.
Maren stiffened, her head tilting slightly as she listened. “Backup power,” she said after a moment. “Some of the stations still have it. Keeps the lights on, maybe a few sensors, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure?”
Maren’s gaze snapped to Juni, her expression hard. “Do you want to sit here and debate it, or do you want to leave before we find out?”
Juni swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s go.”
They made their way back to the door, Juni’s steps quick and nervous as they tried to keep up with Maren. Outside, the air felt cooler, fresher, though the weight of the pack on their shoulders seemed heavier than before.
“See?” Maren said as they started down the hill. “Easy.”
“Easy,” Juni muttered, their thoughts still tangled with the image of shelves full of untouched tools, and the quiet hum of power that didn’t feel as harmless as Maren made it sound.
The sun was setting by the time they returned to The Crossing, the market quieting in the dim light. The trader was waiting, his face lighting up as Maren handed him the saw.
Juni lingered near the creek, their shoulders aching and their thoughts tangled.
“Not bad for your first run,” Maren said, dropping onto a rock beside them.
Juni didn’t respond right away. They watched the water flow over the rocks, sharp edges worn smooth by time.
“Do you ever wonder if... we’re doing it wrong?” they asked finally.
Maren raised an eyebrow. “Wrong how?”
“I don’t know,” Juni said. “Like... what if there’s another way?”
Maren snorted softly. “Another way? Sure. Go back to the city."
Juni didn’t answer.
Maren sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “You’re overthinking it. Out here, it’s simple. You do what you can live with, and you keep moving.”
Juni watched her walk away, the sound of her boots crunching on the rocky ground fading into the rush of the creek.
"Keep moving, Juni!" Maren shouted back. Juni stood up, and started walking after Maren.