Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 56 of 150

By the third dawn Ben was forty miles past the barn. The wolf's flanks pumped hard. Its head hung lower than the day before. Ollie had warned him the animal could carry the crate two days at pace, maybe three. They were on three. Ben watched foam collect at the corner of its mouth and knew Ollie's estimate was optimistic. He dismounted and walked beside the wolf through the pines. The crate rocked on its back. Ben counted his problem. If the wolf collapsed here, he could not lift the chest. He could not drag it. He could not leave it. Scouts were behind him somewhere. Winter was ahead. The wolf stumbled at midday on a shallow slope. It caught itself, then stopped. Its legs shook. Ben unbuckled the crate and lowered it to the ground before the animal could go down with it. The wolf folded onto its side and breathed in long, wet drags. Ben sat on the crate and looked at the trees. Smoke rose above a ridge to the north. A thin gray line. Cookfire, not signal. He left the wolf and the crate and walked toward the smoke. Half a mile on, a cottage stood in a clearing. Its roof slanted wrong. Its windows sat tight in their frames. A stovepipe leaned from the shingles. Someone had painted a small worried face on the door, brow furrowed, mouth open. Amber Green stepped out before he knocked. She had a knife in one hand and a strip of dried meat in the other. Her hair was pulled back tight. She looked thinner than at the inn. She looked at Ben's empty hands, then past him at the trees. "You alone?" "Wolf's down. Half mile south." "Chest?" "With it." She cut the meat in half and gave him a piece. "Herbalist?" "East. He thinks." Amber chewed. "I lost the trail two weeks back. Came here to think. Nothing here to think about." She looked at the cottage behind her. "Owner ran. Door was open." "I need to move a chest." "I know what you need." She went inside and came back with a handcart. One wheel was cracked but held. She wheeled it past him without waiting. They reached the wolf together. It was still breathing. Amber knelt and ran a hand along its neck. "Two days rest, it lives. You take it now, it dies on the road." "I can't wait two days." "Then leave it. Ollie will find it or he won't." They loaded the crate onto the cart. Amber took one handle. Ben took the other. The wolf watched them go. By dusk they had the chest inside the cottage, wedged behind the stove. Amber bolted the door. Ben sat on the floor with his back against the crate and did not sleep. He had the chest. He had lost the animal. He had two days before the scouts closed in, and now he was on foot.