Would the airship return? Were the RECOs hunting for Roz? Was it only a matter of time before she was caught? It was impossible to know. So our friends tried not to worry about those troubling questions, and they continued sneaking through farm country, from one wooded area to the next.
Roz wore a disguise of mud and weeds and bark. At the first hint of trouble she would freeze—and instantly become a rotten old tree trunk. Then she’d wait for Brightbill to tell her that it was safe to move on. If there were humans or robots nearby, she might have to wait for hours.
Back on the island, Brightbill had practiced flying like hawks and owls and sparrows and vultures. He couldn’t fly exactly like those other birds, of course, but he was an expert at diving and swooping and darting and soaring. Now he used those skills to secretly scout out the countryside for his mother. He’d fly up from her shoulder and return a short time later to share his findings.
“We’re coming to another farmhouse. Let’s avoid it by cutting across this field.”
“Beyond these trees is a highway. Stay here and I’ll tell you when it’s safe to cross.”
“Straight ahead is a small town. But I can lead you around it.”
Brightbill’s advice was always good, and Roz always followed it, and together the travelers safely made their way through farm country.