Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 108 of 150

Ben went halfway down the slope and stopped. The pine cover ran out below him. Open ground began. He looked back at the burned house on the ridge. The red glow still lived in the seams of the wood. It was the only high point that watched the mill road. If riders came up from the gate, he would not see them from the trees. He would see them from that roof. He climbed back up. The girl was outside now, sitting on a black stone by the door. A small creature stood at her ankle. It looked like a fox cub made of ember. Its edges flickered. Its coat was dark with bright spots that pulsed when it breathed. It watched Ben with orange eyes. "I need to stay," Ben said. "One night. Maybe two. Until I know the riders don't come." "No," she said. "I told you what I saw. That was the deal." "The road curves. From the trees I can't see the gate. From here I can." "From here you burn," she said. She lifted her palm. A flame woke and sat there. "I don't hold it all night. The floor goes hot when I sleep. That's why the roof's gone." The cub stepped between them. It sniffed at Ben's boot and did not scorch it. "He likes you," she said. She sounded surprised. "He doesn't like anyone." Ben crouched. He kept his hands still. "What's in the bucket." A charred wooden pail sat by her feet. Iron bands. Cracks bright with heat. She had been pulling coals from the floor and dropping them in. "Where I put it when it gets away from me," she said. "Wood holds longer than you'd think, once it's already burned." Ben thought about that. "Put me in the pail's corner. The stone side. I'll sleep sitting. I'll leave at first light or when you say." She looked at him a long moment. She counted under her breath. One. Two. Three. The flame in her palm went out. "One night," she said. "You watch the road. I sleep. If the floor lights, you wake me and you run." "Agreed." She pointed at the cub. "He stays with you. He tells me if you move wrong." Ben sat down against the stone wall on the cold side. The cub curled at his boot. Its heat was steady, not sharp. The girl went inside and lay on the beam and closed her eyes. Ben watched the mill road below. The gate lamps were small yellow points. No riders came up. An hour passed. Another. The road stayed empty. He let his shoulders down for the first time in a month. The hunt on his name was ending. He still had eleven pieces to answer for, and a purse sewn into his coat, and a wolf waiting in the pines. But tonight, on this burned floor, nothing was coming for him.