WE FOLLOW SOME TRAIL I CAN’T SEE DEEP INTO the woods for hours. In the afternoon we come to a little creek, chattering cheerful-like over a stony bed.
It winds off to the northwest, and Isi climbs into its ravine, beckoning for us to stay on the bank. He stands a moment, looking around. “They followed it.” He climbs back into the trees, and we press forward.
As the day wears on, I can see by the frustrated set of his jaw that we are too slow. He carries Daniel on his good side now and again but often has to put him down to pull aside brush or deadfall or to scout ahead to make sure we’re still following the creek when it winds. I try to carry Daniel but can only manage for a little while at a time.
It’s slow going, and we’re walking so close to the creek anyhow . . . “Shouldn’t we just walk the creek bed?” I ask finally.
Isi shakes his head. “It’s better up here.”
I sigh and turn back to help Daniel over a fallen tree. Suppose being on the creek bed would mean walking more than we need to, with all its twists and turns.
When I turn back around, Isi has stopped and is peering at something in the creek.
“What is it?” I join him and follow his gaze.
There’s a carcass at the edge of the water.
A deer, but not gleaming white like that skeleton I found days back. Patches of flesh and hair are stuck to the body like some sickly patchwork quilt, skull part-desiccated. Its tongue hangs from its mouth, swollen, caked with black blood. Looks as though it’s bled out from somewhere, judging by the stain on the rocks around it, but I can’t see a wound. A cloud of flies buzzes about, feasting on its glassy eyes.
I turn Daniel away and draw him behind me, putting my body between him and the sight. Isi hops down the bank and approaches it.
“What happened to it?” I ask.
Isi takes a stick from the forest floor and prods it, looking it over. The creek burbles cheerful behind him, out of place with the carcass. When he straightens, his face is grim. “It was sick.”
“What with?”
He shrugs, but his eyes flick to the side. The Bleed. Has to be, but I can tell by his face Isi plans on keeping me in the dark. Is the sickness in this creek? How can I find out if he thinks so? “Should—should we move it out of the water?” I ask.
“Why?”
“Just . . . using water downstream from this seems awful.”
“We won’t be drinking this water,” Isi says, answering my question. We don’t have Matisa’s remedy now, so he doesn’t want to take chances. He prods at the deer again. The swarm of flies rises and buzzes noisily, waiting to land.
“There are footsteps here,” Isi says, pointing at the creek. I lean close. The footprint is solid—human. A boot. It rests beside the deer, and the imprint has filled with bloody water. The toe of the boot leaks slow into the river.
“Like in my dream,” I think aloud.
Isi turns to me. “What dream?”
“I dreamt that I found one footprint, bleeding a river. It led to a grove of trees that had green leaves, and snow.”
He looks to the sky like he hasn’t heard. “It’s getting late; we need to keep moving.”
We break at sundown. I’m bone-tired, but I offer to set up camp while Isi goes to find something for us to eat. The food packs were on the horses; the pots and utensils, too. Isi doesn’t seem too fussed about this, but I have no idea how to manage without our effects. He heads off into the woods with his slingshot and knife. Got no idea where that rifle ended up in the chaos, and I don’t want to ask him about it—don’t even want to think about the homestead.
I busy myself with doing the one thing I can: making a fire.
“Em?” Daniel says. I look up from the small bundle of twigs. “When will we see Kane and Nico?”
“Soon,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “They’re probably wondering about me.”
“Course,” I say. “But they know you’re with me and Isi. They know you’re safe.”
He nods. His brow crinkles. “Who were those people? At that big fire?”
I blow and fan, coaxing the flames. “Those men weren’t like anybody we know. They were bad men.”
“But what if we see them again? What if they find us again?” He’s shifting from foot to foot now, looking around at the trees. He’s working himself into a state—
I hop to my feet and take his hands in mine. “You don’t need to worry about that. You’re safe. Isi and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He stares up at me, his dark eyes unsure.
I try to smile, but it occurs to me this might become pretty regular, him getting riled. I didn’t have brothers or sisters, so I’m not used to soothing them. The only child I ever had underfoot was Edith, Tom’s little sister. She liked songs. And I used to sing my ma’s song when I was scared, when I was alone.
“Hey,” I say. “Did your ma ever sing you songs? At night?”
He nods.
“Which was your favorite?”
“The rabbit song.”
Got no idea what that is. “Sing a little bit for me now.”
“Don’t remember the words.” His face crumples like he’s going to cry.
“That’s all right!” I say quick, squeezing his hands. “Just hum it.”
He frowns, thinking. Finally he starts in a halting little melody. Full out of tune.
“That’s so pretty,” I say. “I bet you felt real good when your ma sung that song, all safe and snug in your bed?”
“So here’s what you do. Anytime you’re feeling scared or nervous, you just close your eyes and hum that song. And even if you can’t hear her, your ma will be humming it along with you from her resting place.”
His eyes widen. “Truly?”
“Course. And then you’ll know everything’s going to be all right.” I jostle his hands, tugging at him, playful. “Now come on.” I point to the packs. “Let’s see what we’ve got for eating tools.”
As we look through the packs, I realize Daniel isn’t the only one who’ll need a song to hum. Been trying not to think about Kane all day, but now that we’re stopped and dusk is falling, a panicky little fluttering is starting in my chest.
Where is he right now? Did he get away? Was he taken by those men? Is he still alive—
Stop it.
Kane is all right. I’d know if he weren’t. I’d feel it.
Wouldn’t I?
The partridge roasts slow over the campfire, letting off a mouthwatering smell. The dark woods are quiet, but Isi hasn’t stopped making quick tours of the outskirts of our camp. He returns now and again to turn the meat.
“I can do that,” I say. Daniel is huddled in my cloak in the crook of my arm.
Isi waves me off and pulls the spit away from the fire. “It is ready.”
We tear into the flesh before it’s cool, burning the tips of our fingers and roofs of our mouths. When we’re done, the ache of hunger has dulled.
Isi stokes the fire high and Daniel falls asleep straight away. I pull off my ceinture and wad it up, tuck it under the side of his head.
Isi watches the flames.
“Thank you,” I say. “For the partridge.”
He shrugs. I look at the fire and study him from under my brow. He led at a determined pace today, stopping only when Daniel complained or I asked for a rest. It’s clear he believes we’re on the right trail. Somehow . . .
I poke at the fire, look over at Daniel, sleeping quiet beside me. Clear my throat. “How can you . . . track them?” I ask.
Isi raises his eyebrows. “There are many signs if you know where to look.”
“What are they?”
He shrugs. “Broken branches, footprints. There was blood in places, from the one man’s wound. They stopped to tend to it.”
“Oh,” I say. All I saw was that bloody footprint. That footprint. Isi ignored me when I talked about my dream earlier. Like it meant nothing. But I know different. Could feel someone waiting in those trees. “My dream . . .” I hesitate. “It was the strangest thing. Tall green trees—like in summer, but capped with snow.”
Isi squints. It’s slight, but it’s a tell: I’ve spoken something significant.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head like he doesn’t know, but he’s not being truthful—I can see it.
He shrugs. “Our purpose is Nico.” His eyes shift. He’s keeping something from me.
Off in the trees, a night bird calls.
All at once I’m uneasy. Isi’s sudden change of heart, us following a trail I can’t see, this snowy forest. None of it makes any sense. My skin prickles. “Why?”
Isi’s gaze snaps up.
“Why are we coming after Nico? Why are you helping us?”
He studies me a moment. “You don’t trust me,” he says.
“It’s not that.”
He’s giving me that look I hate—that hard look that makes me double-guess my own thoughts. Well, so what if I don’t trust him now? Why should I? “You were ready to leave Daniel and me. You would’ve if he hadn’t woken. And you were planning to leave us at that homestead and go after Matisa yourself.”
“So?”
“So what changed?”
He looks away into the trees. “Matisa’s dream,” he says.
“Beg pardon?”
He’s quiet so long I wonder if he’s heard me. I’m about to ask again when he sighs deep. “She dreamt that I was following a tree seed—drifting on the breeze. In my hand I held a bird with a broken wing.” He stares into the fire. “Follow the seedpod . . .”
Take the injured bird.
Matisa thought the injured bird was Nishwa. I look at my foot. I’m the injured bird. Least, Isi thinks I am. My cheeks flush. I’m not worried about how people see me anymore. Haven’t been for months. So why’s my face getting hot?
“Matisa was sure the seedpod was one of the little boys. She made me promise to follow that path if it were set before me.” His eyes are unhappy. “When you told me the men took Nico, I saw it clearly.”
I study him, sitting with his arms on his knees, his face grave. Seems like he’s telling the truth. And if he is, his change of heart and constant prickly manner make sense. Besides, what reason could he have to drag me and Daniel out here?
Still, he’s keeping things from me, too. He knows more about my dream than he’s letting on. I want to press it, but there’s no way to force him to tell me; Isi is not the sort. He’s the sort who goes the opposite way you’re hoping, just to show you he can.
“So here we are,” I say. “Because of Matisa.”
“She asked me,” he says, like it explains everything.
Something in his voice makes my heart race, and I realize I’m wrong: Isi goes the opposite way when certain people press him. Matisa is another matter.
She asked me.
Desire tugs at me. What on earth? Can’t be desire for Isi—that’s addled. Desire for someone to feel the same about me—do whatever I ask? Kane hovers at the edges of my mind. I wanted him to be sure about me. I was so hurt when it seemed he was choosing his ma and the boys over me. I won’t have to worry about him choosing his ma anymore.
The thought makes nausea rise in my throat, smothering the desire.
I push it all away and keep speaking to distract myself. “You don’t think you’re doing the right thing, though.” I don’t tell him that I understand. Doing the right thing isn’t always clear; it doesn’t always feel good.
He shrugs, but his eyes shift. I can see he feels guilt over the way he was with Matisa these last two days.
“You’re so sure of everything else,” I say. “So sure what happened with Charlie at that homestead.”
Isi’s face darkens. “Anyone could see what happened there. Charlie is exactly what I warned you he was,” he says.
“But—”
“He has every reason to betray you. Kane killed his father. And you are the reason his family was sent out to starve.”
I pause. “But we showed him mercy.”
“That was why you helped him?”
“Y-y-yes.”
Isi looks at me hard, that bleedin’ look that asks me to think again about what I’m saying.
And now, of all foolish things, Brother Stockham’s gray eyes surface in my mind. The scars on his bare shoulder, stretching across his back. I knew about his father’s teachings branded there.
I swallow hard.
Stockham’s pa showed him no mercy at all, and Brother Stockham ended up harboring that awful secret, and dying because of it. Charlie had to shoulder his own pa’s transgressions when he was cast out of the settlement. But me showing him mercy could save him from repeating his pa’s mistakes. Couldn’t it?
I flush and close my eyes, trying to focus on the matter at hand, but all that comes out of my mouth is “It’s not what I thought, out here.”
Silence.
I open my eyes and find Isi looking at me. He frowns and hops up. “I’ll take first watch,” he says, and stalks away into the woods.
I watch him go, knowing full well he won’t wake me for “second watch.” We aren’t in this together; I am his burden to bear, and he’s bearing it for Matisa. I settle behind Daniel and curl my body around him, shoving aside the hurt that rises in my chest. What matters is that Isi’s sudden change of heart makes sense. He’s helping us for Matisa. Doing what she asked. But—
Take the injured bird.
Why did she have that dream? Did she know what was ahead for us? Did she know that not five days into our journey, everything would go to hell? If that’s true, why wouldn’t she tell me? She would. Unless . . .
Unless she’s keeping more than the remedy secret. Mayhap there are lots of other things she didn’t tell me.
The frozen feeling in my chest throbs and the dull ache of my foot echoes into my hip. I pull up my head and look around at the dark trees. Used to find them so beautiful. Used to think they hid secrets I couldn’t live without.
Now they hide enemies. The long branches are pressing on me, trapping me here, in this unfamiliar land. Bloodied carcasses, madmen appearing from nowhere, horrific weapons.
I wish with every part of me that Kane were here, but the thought of him starts an ache in my heart so painful—
I search for something, anything, that might ease me and find myself repeating the virtues ritual. I am Honesty. I am Bravery. I am Discovery. These things have had new meaning for me ever since last fall, but the chant itself feels familiar, comforting. I am Honesty. I am Bravery—
My thoughts stop there. I’ve never been Honesty. And telling myself Kane’s all right . . .
Well, mayhap I’m lying to myself, like I lied to myself about Charlie. Mayhap instead I should be preparing myself for the worst: that we’ll never find Kane again.
Least, not alive.
My breath leaves me in a rush.
Stop it.
Can’t keep on like this, I’ll go mad.
I take the image of Kane and wrap it in the threads of my mind and bury it deep, deep in my heart. He’s safe there. I’ll take him out again after we find Nico.
I feel Daniel’s little chest rise soft. I send a prayer to the Almighty that he has a dreamless sleep.
Don’t bother doing the same for myself.