Lyra Stellwyn's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

By late afternoon the truck was half loaded and the sky had gone the color of wet slate. Lyra stood on the porch with a coil of rope in her hand and watched the clouds stack over the water line. Rei made a low noise on her shoulder. Noel came out behind her, counting the crates on the boards. He got to four and stopped when he saw her face. "Storm," Lyra said. "Coming in tonight." Noel squinted at the sky. The green squirrel on his collar burrowed under his coat. "The little one won't make it," he said. "Not in an open bed. Wind like that on a splinted wing, it'll tear the joint open again." Lyra already knew. She had known since the first gust bent the grass flat. Leaving at dawn meant the hatchling died in the truck. Waiting meant losing the last day of her window before the lab noticed the fox was gone. She went inside. The hatchling was curled in a nest of towels by the stove, silver scales dulled, the green ridges along its spine barely lifting with each breath. Its bright eyes tracked her across the room. She crouched and put a finger near its snout. It pressed its head into her hand. "We can't go at dawn," she said. Noel stood in the doorway. "Then when." "Tonight. Now. We beat the storm to the ridge and hole up on the far side. The wind cuts once you're past the pass." He stared at her. "You want to drive into it." "I want to drive under it. There's a difference." She was already moving, pulling blankets off the cot, wrapping the hatchling tight enough to hold the wing still. "Load the fox. Water. The notebook. Leave the rest." He did not argue. He counted the water jugs out loud as he carried them, three, four, five, and his hands shook on the fifth. Rei flew to the truck cab and waited on the dash without a sound. Lyra drove. Noel held the hatchling against his chest inside his coat. The fox slept in a crate behind the seat. The first rain hit the windshield as they climbed the ridge road, hard drops, spaced. Then the wind came, and the truck leaned, and she gripped the wheel until her knuckles paled. They cleared the pass in the last gray light. On the far slope the wind dropped off the way she'd promised. She pulled the truck into the lee of a rock face and killed the engine. Noel opened his coat. The hatchling was breathing steady. The splint had held. Lyra let her head rest on the wheel. She had bought the hatchling one more night. She had also burned her cushion. The lab would notice the fox tomorrow, and she was still a full day short of the coast.