Sara Ashland came from behind a fir.
Her taut eyes flicked over him. She turned to start running, but he stopped her.
‘Wait.’
We ran for maybe a mile. The bank is behind us. We’re running parallel to it.
‘That way,’ he pointed in a direction away from the bank.
‘That’ll take us towards them,’ she objected, even as she broke into a lope.
‘Behind them,’ he corrected.
‘You can carry all those?’ She asked over her shoulder, referring to the killers’ belongings.
He didn’t answer. Followed close behind her, occasionally looking back.
There were no signs of pursuit. He didn’t think there would be.
Namir will take stock. He has lost three men. He will take some time to strategize.
In his mind, he pictured a map of the wilderness.
They were between the Middle Fork Salmon and the mountain range.
They were heading into a trail-less area.
Firs and pine extended as far as the eye could see.
If this is new country for me, it’s even more so for Namir. He will not follow blindly.
He could hear the girl panting ahead, but she didn’t slow down.
Left, then right, straight ahead occasionally, running where the ground was harder, where no tracks could be left.
He brought them to a halt after ninety minutes of bursts of running.
She leaned against a tree and slid down as if her legs had turned to jelly.
She drank greedily from a canteen he thrust at her, drops trickling down her chin and falling to the ground.
She returned it with a whispered thanks and closed her eyes, her chest heaving.
‘Why did we stop?’
‘We were making too much noise.’
‘Won’t they catch up?’
‘No. They won’t resume the hunt for a while.’
‘How do you know?’
Because I would have done just that.
‘What’s your story?’ he asked instead.
Her eyes flew open. ‘You mean, how did a Yazidi end up in America? With her father dead?’
Bitterness in her voice. The previous night returning to her, now that the adrenaline of flight was wearing out.
‘You first,’ she challenged him. ‘I need to know who I am with. No hiker I know does that.’
Her hand waved in the direction of the bank.
‘Are you a killer and rapist? Like them?’
He kept his face expressionless even though his insides tightened.
‘What do you think, ma’am?’
‘I stopped thinking since I watched my father die, Mr. Carter. Just last night.’
‘Right now, I am just being.’