Maren Goldweaver's Arc

Chapter 37 of 42

The road bent away with the wagon on it, and Maren turned into the trees with Miller at her shoulder. The bag knocked against her hip with every step. She kept her eyes on the ground and counted her breaths against the count of days. "I just got her back," Maren whispered. Miller pulled her closer under his arm. They walked faster inside the pines, off any path, keeping the road's sound to their left. Six days. A cart moved twice what feet could move. If Gisela and Kato reached the place first and waited, they would be seen. If Maren arrived after, the transfer would pass and the name in the manifest would move to somewhere she could not follow. She had not eaten since the river. Her mouth tasted of metal. The ferns blurred at the edges and the ground tilted. Her boot caught a root and she went sideways. Miller caught her before her knee hit dirt. He swept his other arm behind her legs and lifted her against his chest. The supply bag hung from his fist. She weighed nothing to him. She hated that she was grateful. "Put me down. We lose time." "You need to eat." He carried her to a fallen pine and set her on it. He crouched, opened the bag, and laid every piece out on the cloth between them. Bread. The wedge of cheese. Three strips of dried apple. A stub of hard sausage she had not seen before. He did not choose for her. "Pick." She reached for the bread because it was closest. He tore off a piece of cheese and pressed it into her other hand. Then he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear with two fingers and left his hand at her jaw a moment. "Chew," he said. "Slow." She ate. The bread went down like wood at first, then like bread. The cheese cut the sick feeling in her stomach. She took an apple strip. Her hands stopped shaking. Miller watched the trees while she ate. When she reached for a second piece of bread he shook his head and wrapped the rest. "Save half for tonight," he said. "We push till dark. Then again at first light. No fires." "The cart will beat us." "Not by much. Carts stop. Carts get stopped. We don't." He stood and offered his hand. She took it and rose without stumbling. The trees ahead ran east in long straight lines, easy walking under the needles. Six days on foot against wheels. She had the food in her stomach and Miller at her side and a name held only in her head. She let go of his hand and stepped past him. "Then we walk till dark." He followed. The road kept its distance to their left, and they matched its pace, then beat it.