The moon was midway up the horizon when they reached the next branch in the trail. The left-hand track—the one that Caelym guessed and hoped would take them around the edge of the marsh and into the forest—dropped abruptly down an incline and into a morass of grass and brush. Again, Annwr had her doubts, wanting to keep to the road they were on, which was admittedly more exposed but was high and dry—and empty, as far as they could see ahead.
The debate between them took place in complete silence. Caelym edged to the left and looking meaningfully toward the silhouette of treetops just visible across the expanse of ferns and gorse, while Annwr lowered her eyebrows and looked down at Caelym’s soggy sandals.
Their stalemate was broken when Lliem whispered, “I hear horses! Real horses!”
Before Arddwn could say that he heard them first, his father had swung him down to the ground, and Annwr had grasped hold of his hand and was pulling him after her down the track toward the woods.
Caelym tried to take Lliem off Aleswina’s back but couldn’t break the stranglehold he had around her neck, so the three of them descended the first steep section of the path together, with Caelym gripping his arms around Aleswina to steady her and keep her upright. Once they reached level ground, he let her go, and she raced after Annwr.
On the verge of dashing after them, Caelym stopped. He didn’t have his healer’s bag or his staff and, except for holding onto Arddwn, Annwr had been empty-handed too. He dropped to his belly and wormed his way back up to the road, intent on retrieving the satchel and the staves before the oncoming riders saw them. The sound of the galloping horses grew louder as he got to the top. Pressed flat against the ground, he could feel the pounding of their hooves and knew that any moment they’d come over the rise. The satchel and one of the staves were close enough that he was able to grab them without leaving the cover of the brush. The other pole lay farther off and was practically pointing to the trail’s entrance. He lunged forward, seized the end of it, and scrambled back into the underbrush—pulling the tip out of sight just as the horsemen thundered past.
Still keeping his head down, he tucked his bag under one arm and the staves under the other before scuttling, crab-like, down the slope and across the meadow, not straightening up until he reached the cover of the trees.
“You could have been—” Annwr gasped as she brought Aleswina and the boys out of hiding.
“But I wasn’t!” he handed over her staff and added, “now if you will follow me.” Buoyed with the satisfaction of having successfully dodged disaster, he started jauntily off, leading the way into the forest.
If he’d been alone, Caelym would have walked on through the night, breathing in the scent of pine and reveling in the bright dots of the moonlight that danced along the trail ahead of him. But with the women and children to think of, he had to find a safe place to stop and rest—preferably, a place where he could set a fish trap to catch their breakfast.
As if in answer to his thought, the path took a dip into a ravine and wended its way downward, coming to the edge of a fast-flowing stream. The main trail went straight into the water—meaning, most likely, that it could be forded. Realizing that it would be safer not to suggest to Annwr that they attempt another risky crossing in the dark, Caelym took the side track along the bank.