“He’s getting better,” Alex observed. “Another week and he’ll be as fit as the rest.”
“Or he’ll trip and break a leg,” Winter said. “And then we’ll have to carry him. It’s a shame he can’t use his power on himself.”
“I’ve had that thought before,” Alex said darkly. The pair of them had fled across Murnsk together, Winter knew, and hadn’t had an easy time of it. Neither of them liked to talk about it, and Winter hadn’t pried.
“Leti said we’re camping on the other side of the stream, just ahead. Nearly there.” Winter nodded at Abraham. “I’ll go cheer him up.”
Alex grinned. “Cheering Abraham up is like trying to fill a pond with pebbles.”
“I’ll try anyway. You go on ahead.”
“Yes, sir!” Alex managed a reasonable salute, and jogged toward the head of the column, where Leti was talking with Vess in the Haeta language. Winter dropped back until she was walking beside Abraham, who took a few moments to notice she was there.
“You’ve done a lot of these marches,” he said, wheezing a bit. “Haven’t you?”
“I suppose I have,” Winter said. It still felt odd, sometimes, to think of herself as a veteran. We’ve crammed a lot of fighting into the last two years.
“How often does it happen,” Abraham said, “that somebody’s legs actually fall off?”
Winter grinned. “Never, to my knowledge.”
“Then I think I might be a unique case.” He paused, leaning on his stick. “I spent too much time reading and not enough running back and forth in the snow, apparently. Or whatever it is the rest of you did.”
“You’re doing better than half my recruits,” Winter said. “The first serious march of the Velt campaign, we had to send the cavalry back every night to round up the stragglers, and it sometimes took until morning.”
Winter wondered, abruptly, where those recruits were now. The Steel Ghost had told her the majority of the Vordanai army had returned home, but Raesinia would have to respond to the threat Janus posed. Are they marching again? Is Abby with them? Is Cyte? Between the two of them, at least the Girls’ Own would be in good hands. And Marcus will find a way through. He always has.
Abraham had said something, and she’d missed it. Winter blinked and shook her head. “Sorry?”
“I said, tell me we’re nearly there.”
“We’re nearly there,” Winter said obediently. “There’s a stream up ahead. We’ll camp just on the other side.”
“Thank God.” Abraham paused again, breathing hard, then looked over his shoulder. The Haeta rear guard were catching up with them, but the young women were still some distance away. “I didn’t get a chance to ask about the plan.”
“What plan?”
“Our plan. How long are we going to stay with the Haeta?”
“As long as we can,” Winter said. “We’ll be safer from the Beast.”
“We will,” Abraham said, starting his trudge forward again. “What about them?”
Winter grimaced. For all that the Haeta had been enemies of the Vordanai, Leti and her people hadn’t been anything but helpful. It was hard, knowing she might be putting them in danger. “I hope it’ll be safer for them, too,” she said. “I don’t think the red-?eyes will leave them alone if they catch up, do you?”
“I doubt it,” Abraham said. “But they’re still following us.”
They’re following me, Winter thought, but didn’t say it. At least Alex and Abraham got into this with their eyes open. “We can stick together until we make it to the river, at least. Then we can try to find transport downstream, and they’ll want to head north anyway. That might get us clear of the Beast, at least for a while.”
Abraham nodded. Winter couldn’t tell if she’d convinced him, or if he was just too tired to argue. Either way, they walked in silence until they came to the stream, where several Haeta waited to show them the shallowest place to splash across. The water had the bitter cold of snowmelt, and Winter was glad for the thick, waterproof boots they’d given her at the Mountain. On the other side, tents were already going up on a small rise.
Leti has good instincts. The wilderness aptitude of the Haeta extended to building a camp—?they could have their small, steep-?sided tents up in a matter of minutes, and a fire going in a few minutes more. Everyone seemed to know their assigned roles without being told, and performed them with only minimal supervision.
It was all the more impressive because of how young they were. It had taken Winter several nights to realize that Leti, who couldn’t be older than twenty, was easily the oldest of the Haeta warriors. The youngest, gangly, wide-?eyed girls with spots, looked like they were about fourteen, and the majority were somewhere in between. Not that we didn’t have plenty of young ones in the Girl’s Own, I suppose. But we didn’t send them off by themselves.
Alex was already working on setting up their own tent, larger than the Haeta’s and considerably more cumbersome. Winter joined in, letting Abraham sit on a stone and guzzle ice-?cold water. By the time it was up, some of the Haeta had started cooking. They carried rations, dried meat and roasted vegetable cakes, but the advance guard doubled as hunters, and they had considerably more success than Winter and Alex had. A variety of rabbits, squirrels, and other small creatures had been brought down, and the young women now rapidly skinned them and set the meat to cooking. The smell made Winter’s stomach rumble.
Leti and her sister, Vess, sat near the fire, their part in the night’s chores apparently done. Vess was speaking urgently in low tones, and Leti nodded periodically, as though distracted. At Winter’s approach, Vess looked up and said something sharp. Leti turned and beckoned; Vess, disgusted, spat what sounded like a curse and stalked off through the camp.
“Did I do something wrong?” Winter said.
“She doesn’t trust you,” Leti said. “She thinks I am a fool for allowing you to travel with us.”
“That doesn’t seem very gracious, after Abraham saved her life,” Winter said, settling down on a damp stone. The warmth of the fire beat against her clothes, gradually seeping in.
“Do not think ill of her. She worries that you helped her only to gain our trust. She would happily have died if it meant saving the rest of us.” Leti looked into the flames. “In truth, the priests might agree with her. I was the one who acted... against tradition. I could not stand to watch her die.”
“The priests are in charge? When you’re back home, I mean.”
“In peacetime, yes. When we are called to war, the tribe elects a warleader, and each cohort follows suit.”
“Is that how you got to be in charge?” Winter hesitated. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I’m just curious.”