“It’s part of a song I wrote.” Ora smirked. “‘The Traveling Bard of Hallisville.’”
“You wrote that?” I’d heard it before. “Though it was called ‘The Wolf of Hallisville’ when they performed it.”
“Must’ve been a servant at some Wolf fete, then.” Ora huffed. “The Wolves always steal our songs and make them their own.”
Mina signed something I guessed was about Wolves and Ora chuckled. I looked at Malou to translate.
“Esh,” Malou muttered. “The Wolves killed a few monsters hundreds of years ago and now they think everything belongs to them.”
“The humans granted the Wolves their sovereignty for their protection against monsters and magic wielders,” I said, garnering a snort from the twins.
“I didn’t realize the humans of Damrienn cared for their Wolves so much,” Malou jeered. “If the Wolves were our protectors, they would’ve dealt with Sawyn, but they all turned a blind eye to the suffering of the Olmderians,” she hissed. “Because it didn’t affect their crowns or their gold.”
Ora shook their head. “Maybe their ancestors had good intentions, but the Wolves haven’t cared a crover about the humans in a long time.”
I bobbed my head along in agreement, trying to blend in. This was how humans talked. I sounded too much like a Wolf—an unwelcome guest in any human troupe. I made a note to be more careful with my words and reactions.
Mina stood, bringing her empty plate to the basin.
Malou nodded. “Go swap with Navin before the stew goes cold.”
My eyes tracked Mina as she climbed toward the front of the wagon, and I realized I’d only seen a small part of this giant structure. “Do the oxen never stop?”
“They don’t need to,” Ora said, “but we like to give them time to rest and graze anyway.”
“That’s how you joined us,” Malou said, laughing.
I laughed as well, then whispered, “This place is amazing,” looking around the space again. Little details covered every corner—buttons and velvets and potted herbs. I could spot influences from every kingdom, from the dented copper bowls and colorful rugs of Valta to the fur-trimmed hats of Taigos.
“You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” Malou said. “You want to have a wash?”
“A wash? On a moving wagon?” I dropped my spoon into my empty bowl with a clang.
She pushed back from the table and beckoned me to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
I bowed my head to Ora. “Thank you for this delicious meal . . . and all of your kindness.”
Ora bowed. “It’s a pleasure, Calla.”
They said it with genuine warmth . . . and it still befuddled me. Why would anyone be nice to me when I had nothing to give them in return? Surely humans weren’t this kind to strangers. Unless they had some sort of ulterior motives . . .
I would keep my guard up, just in case.
I followed Malou toward the back of the wagon. Twisting down the narrow corridor, I had to shuffle sideways to fit. She reached a low cabinet door and opened it, revealing a hole with a ladder.
I gaped. “What in the Gods’ names?”
“There’s a water basin that sits under the firebox. It keeps the water warm for a little while after dinner. If you go now, it’ll be lovely,” she said. “There’s soap and towels down there already. You’ll have to duck down. It’s pretty crammed, but it’s something.”
“It’s amazing,” I whispered again. I reached up to my bunk above and grabbed out my spare chemise.
She gave me a wink as I slid feet first into the hole and down the little ladder. I crouched into a squat, waddling forward off the landing and onto an open grate. Cold air rushed up through the floor as the heat from the metal box above my head radiated downward. I watched the road whizzing by between the slats in the metal. Beyond the grating were rows and rows of wooden dowels, washed clothing hanging on them.
They made use of every inch of Galen den’ Mora. Built along the wall were baskets of soap and hand cloths. I picked up the first square of soap and smelled it—citrusy and fresh.
The wagon rocked and I tipped forward onto my knees, laughing despite myself. How did they not topple over all the time? What had Ora called them?
Ah, yes: sea legs.
I hung my clean chemise on a hook by the footwell and disrobed. Leaving my dirty clothes below me, I turned the little spigot above and warm water sprayed out. The fine misting was perfect, just enough to wash without wasting the entire basin in one go. I selected a cloth and scrubbed myself clean, rivers of brown water and dried blood tracing down my bare skin. I raked my fingers through my hair and squeezed the dirty water out of my clothes.
As the warmth washed over me, that tight knot in my chest eased, giving way once more to sorrow. The quiet moments were the hardest. When I was safe, warm, and fed, I couldn’t ignore what had happened. I had abandoned my pack, my mate, in order to save my sister. I had thought I knew loneliness before, but I had no clue. It felt like my soul was bursting out, desperately trying to pull that feeling back into me, and I knew I couldn’t go on this way.
I scuttled back to my bunk, deflated, murmuring a quick goodnight out to the wagon before climbing onto the thin mattress. The bunks weren’t stacked one on top of the other, but rather scattered throughout the wagon, creating little nooks. Mina slept between two shelves of books and folders of sheet music. Malou slept above her to the right, where another bunk notched above storage cupboards. Each one had a thick velvet curtain that pulled across to give the sleeper privacy.
Soft candlelight peeked in as I stroked my hand down the curtain. The sheets were smooth, the pillow soft, and I thanked the Gods I was exhausted enough to be given a reprieve from my churning thoughts.
I closed my eyes, thinking of what badge I would want to hang on the ribbons above the dining table. My gut clenched, thinking of what they had said, because I couldn’t even pick a color, let alone an object that symbolized me—mostly because I didn’t know any of those things about myself. Briar would have a badge in mind in a heartbeat, but me? How do you depict a shadow? Would they even let someone have a blank black badge? Besides, if they knew what I truly was, they’d kick me out, or worse. No, there’d be no badges, no memory of me. I’d travel with them to Olmdere and then become a shadow once more.
Sixteen