When she peered around the tallest and widest rock she’d sought refuge behind, she was surprised to see that the road leading to the village was quite busy for this early in the morning. There were people walking in groups. Some alone. Some pulling small wooden wagons by hand, others urging a mule forward as the animal pulled a cart behind it.
She swept a glance over the village below and saw various booths set up, people already putting their wares on display and readying themselves for customers. It was obviously a market day in the village, one that drew many from outlying areas.
Allowing a small exhale of relief, she looked for an opportunity to slip from behind her secluded shelter and fall in to the mix of people making their way to the village below. Hiding in plain sight. Her pursuers wouldn’t expect her to openly mingle with others in broad daylight. Not when she’d only traveled by night thus far and had hidden during the day to rest. Or so she told herself. If she dwelled on any other possibility, she’d stay in her current position, too afraid to move, and she’d lose her only opportunity to replenish her supplies before she once more took flight and forged ahead in her quest for freedom.
When there was a break in the parade of people, she hurriedly strode toward the road, taking her place like she was just one of the others on their way to market, but she was careful to assume the stooped-over shuffle of a much older woman. Her hand automatically went to her veil to ensure that it covered all but her eyes, and she kept them downcast so she chanced looking no one directly in the eye.
Then she glanced down at her hands before burying them in the layers of material flowing from her waist. There was still swelling, and dirt covered the cuts and lacerations, only giving the impression of a woman who’d worked a lifetime with her hands. She’d been careful to wash away any dried, crusted blood; her fingernails were broken to the quick and dirt covered them, embedded around the cuticles, coating the area where they’d been ripped away from her skin.
She was near the outskirts of the village and she could hear sounds bursting from the small populace. There was even music in the distance. Already haggling had begun and the booths were alive with people seeking to barter for items or buy them.
“Good day to you, sister.”
Honor stiffened but forced herself not to overreact to the man who’d slipped up beside her undetected. She’d been too focused on the goings-on in the village and hadn’t paid her fellow travelers the attention she should have. The man had spoken in one of the less common dialects. Had it been a test?
Before she could summon a response, he continued in a low voice, as if not wanting to be overheard by anyone. “There are outcasts here. They look for something. The villagers are wary. They surround the village and are searching the village thoroughly. A woman alone cannot be too careful. If you wish, you may travel with me. It would be an honor to aid an elder of our people.”
Did he know who she was? How could he? Had she not been as careful as she’d thought? Was he warning her because he knew she was the one whom the militant faction searched for? And was he merely offering her reassurance that he wouldn’t betray her by playing along with her disguise and calling her an elder of their people? Or was there something more sinister at play? Was he one of the very men she had to evade at all costs?
There was little she could do. If she suddenly fled, she’d certainly draw attention to herself. And again, she doubted the assholes hunting her thought she would have the balls to go into that village with them there, so close she could smell them. And if she traveled with this man who looked to be older, it would only add credibility to her disguise.