Ellen's Arc

Chapter 43 of 45

Ellen had the spring map now, three wet points burned into her memory. But a map wasn't a plan. Six women rode in two groups, spread wide across the salt. The first group camped a full day north, their barrels nearly dry. Ellen had promised them water she hadn't yet reached. If she guided them wrong, they thirsted out before she found the next dark ground. She sat on the wagon and counted the routes on her fingers. Every path crossed open flats a hunter could watch. A rider came from the west at first light. Chrome helmet, low profile, no wasted motion. Din Djarin. He'd hunted her crew for their needs before, always arriving where they had to go. He reined up close this time, out of the wagon's blind spot. "Your north group turned east," he said. "Away from your route. Two of them can barely stand." Ellen's chest went tight. He'd found them. "You watched them." "I watch patterns." He tilted his head at the map in her lap. "You spread them out. Smart. But you can't be in two places. One group dies while you dig for the other." A second rider appeared behind him. Gray-streaked hair, armor scarred, a pistol already in her hand. Kara Vex. Ellen knew the name from camp talk. The best hunter alive, and she carried a puck with Ellen's face on it. "I got ahead of you," Kara said. She didn't raise the pistol. "Guessed where scared women run. Reached your north group first." Ellen's hands found the reins. Two hunters, one wagon, her women a day off and failing. "Then shoot me. But they're not the mark." Kara studied her a long moment. "They're already at water." She jerked her chin north. "I made them dig. Second wet point, half a mile from where they broke down. They're drinking now." Ellen stared. "Why." "Dead women aren't worth credits. Neither are you." Kara holstered the pistol. "Your puck got pulled. Whoever wanted you can't pay anymore. Same as his." She nodded at Din. Din Djarin was already turning his horse. "No pattern left to hunt," he said. "You scattered. There's nothing here for either of us." Ellen didn't trust it. But Kara tossed the map a folded scrap. New marks in red ink. "Four springs, not three. Vincent doesn't know the fourth. Guide by that. Your groups leapfrog it. Neither one goes dry." She wheeled her horse. "Consider it paid." They rode off in opposite lines and left no dust worth chasing. Ellen opened the scrap. Four wet points, spaced so each group always sat within a day of water. She had her method now. Not a wall. A living web of hidden springs, one hunter's gift she'd never asked for. Her women would drink, and drink again, and no fixed camp would ever burn. But the fourth spring was Kara's secret, and a hunter who knew her routes could return for the mark whenever the price came back.