Aria Nightwing's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

Ben lifted the bar off the shutter only after the street had gone quiet for a long stretch. He waved Aria toward the back of the stall, pushed a crate aside, and opened a low door she had not seen. "My wagon's behind the wall," he said. "I keep it off the main run." Aria followed him into a narrow alley between buildings. The wagon sat there under a sagging tarp, wood scuffed, wheels caked with old mud, a small lantern hooked by the door. A striped horse stood in the traces, orange and black down its flanks, a thick mane the color of fire. It turned its head at her and did not spook at the wings. Ben patted its shoulder. "She's pulled me through worse towns than this one." Inside the wagon there was a bench, a thin mattress, a shelf of tins, and a hatch in the floor. Ben knelt and lifted the hatch. The space beneath was the length of a body and just deep enough. "You ride under here when we pass anyone," he said. "Wings folded or not, doesn't matter. They can't see what they can't see." Aria climbed in once to test it. Her wings pressed flat against the boards. She could breathe. She could draw her sword if she had to. She climbed back out and nodded. They planned at the bench with the folder open between them. Ben drew the route with his finger. Three days east, then south along a dry wash to avoid the main road. He tapped two spots on the map. "Posts here and here. They nail your name to anything that stands." He had seen one that morning, a board with ARIA in black letters tall enough to read from a horse. Aria asked if there were more. Ben said there were always more. They agreed she would stay inside the wagon by day. She would walk only at night, only when Ben said the road was empty. The horse would do the rest. They left before dusk. Ben drove. Aria sat behind the curtain with the folder on her lap and her sword across her knees. An hour out, the wagon slowed. Ben tapped the wall twice. She slid into the floor hatch and pulled it shut over her head. Through the boards she heard hooves, then voices, then Ben's flat answers. A man asked if he had seen a winged girl. Ben said no. The man asked again. Ben said no the same way. Boots scraped. The wagon rocked once as someone leaned on it. Then the hooves moved off. Ben tapped three times. Aria pushed the hatch up and climbed out. Her hands were steady. The road ahead was empty and dim. They had a wagon, a horse, a hiding place, and a direction. The hunters were still on the road behind them, but the road no longer belonged only to the hunters.