Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 111 of 150

Ben came out of the pines onto open grass with the wolf on three legs. It had been favoring the back left since the switchback climb. Now it dragged the paw. He knelt and felt the joint. Hot. Swollen wrong. The animal did not growl. It leaned into his hand and closed its eyes. He looked east. The sky had gone from black to the color of old iron. Dawn was maybe an hour off. Once the light came up he would be a single figure in open country with the ridge behind him, and the two hunters would find the burned house empty and start walking outward in circles. He could not carry the wolf. He could not leave it in the grass to be found and followed. At the far edge of the field a stone tower stood alone. It leaned. Vines wrapped the base. The upper windows showed no light, but the shape of it was wrong for a farm building. It had the look of something built to watch a road that no longer ran. He went toward it because it was the only door in sight. A man stepped out of the tower's arch before Ben reached it. Thin. Gray suit gone at the cuffs. He carried a burlap sack. Ben knew him. Tim Burr had taken the painted chest and seal down to the mill for twelve coins and walked north with his pay. He should not be here. "Your wolf is done," Tim said. Flat. Same voice he had used about the coin. "I know." "Inside. There's a stall. Straw." He tipped the sack. A shed antler, a boot, a ring of iron. "I use the tower. No one comes." Ben carried the wolf through the arch. The floor smelled of cold ash and rot. In a corner stall the straw was clean and stacked. He laid the wolf down. It sighed once and did not lift its head. A girl sat cross-legged on the far stones, small, red hair, yellow eyes on him. Ella Vator. She held her palms open on her knees. A dull heat came off them without flame. She had walked ahead of him from the burned house. He had not seen her leave. "Sit," she said. "Count with me." "Hunters are working the ridge." "I saw. They're going the wrong way." She did not blink. "Stone walls. No door on this side that shows. You breathe. You wait." Tim set the sack down and pulled the arch shut with a plank. "Wolf stays. I'll feed it. You go at dusk." Ben looked at the wolf. Its ribs moved slow and even. "Why," he said to Tim. "You paid me twelve coins. This is the rest." Ben sat against the wall. Ella began to count. He counted with her. Outside, the field turned pale, and no boots came.