Orin Wanderwood's Arc

Chapter 13 of 26

They ran south through the trees until Lily stumbled and Kate caught her. Orin stopped and listened. No tapping. No stride. Just their own breathing and the last of the rain in the leaves. He put his hand in his pocket and closed it around the two firecrackers. Two small paper tubes. Damp. He pulled them out. The fuses were dark and soft. He rolled one between his fingers and it came apart. Wet powder stuck to his skin. He looked at Mr. Echo. "These are done." Mr. Echo took the ruined tubes and dropped them in the mud. "The box is empty too. I used the last of it on the hare thing." He said it flat, like naming a fact on a page. "If she comes back, I have nothing loud to give her." Marrow crouched and pulled Lily against her side. "Then we don't let her come back on us," she said. "We move. We stay quiet. We get to the chalet before she finishes with the shoes." She looked at Orin. "You lead. You're the only one who remembers the way." Orin started south. The ground climbed. He kept his steps on moss where he could. Kate walked behind him with Lily's hand in hers. Behind Kate, Mr. Echo. Behind him, Marrow with her knife out. They went that way for a long time without speaking. Then Orin heard something come up beside him on his left and he stopped hard. A dog stood in the ferns. A collie, long coat matted with mud, one ear torn. It looked at Orin and did not bark. Marrow made a small sound in her throat. She went past Orin and dropped to her knees in the wet leaves and put her hands in the dog's ruff. "You came out," she said. Her voice broke on it. The dog leaned into her and licked her jaw once. Then it turned its head south and its ears went up. "He hears something we can't," Mr. Echo said. He watched the collie's ears. "He's been in there. He knows what she sounds like when she moves." He looked at Marrow. "He can walk point. If he stops, we stop. If he runs, we run." Marrow wiped her face on her sleeve and stood. She did not answer. She put her hand on the dog's back and nodded once at Orin. They went on with the collie ahead of them. It moved low and sure, nose to the wind, ears turning. Orin still had nothing loud in his pockets. He knew that. But the woods felt different now. Someone else was listening for them. When the collie's tail dropped and it froze in the path, all four of them froze with it, and Orin heard, far behind them in the dark, the first light tap of a heel on wet ground.