Waverly's Arc

Chapter 11 of 13

Waverly woke before dawn and checked the loft window. No pigeon waited on the sill. She walked to the post office and lit the lamp, then sat at the counter and watched the east window for movement. The sky turned gray, then pale orange, then gold. Still nothing. The bird arrived just after sunrise, three hours late. Waverly untied the message and spread it flat on the counter. It wasn't written in Silas's hand. Someone had cut words from different papers and pasted them together—mismatched ink, crooked edges, letters that didn't quite line up. The message read: "Shipment stays until you deliver the soil sample. North camp. Noon." She turned the paper over. On the back, in Silas's cramped writing: "They know about the burial ground. They want proof it works. I'm held here until you decide." Waverly folded the note and put it in her pocket. The riders weren't blocking the route to control trade—they wanted the secret itself, and they'd taken Silas to make sure she brought it to them. Waverly walked to the greenhouse and dug up the glass bottle Lovelock had buried beneath the workbench—the last sample of burial ground soil they'd kept hidden. She wrapped it in cloth and rode north alone, reaching the camp twenty minutes before noon. Two riders stood at the boundary with rifles across their backs, and a third man in a long coat and wide-brimmed hat sat on a crate near the fire, watching her approach. Silas was tied to a post behind him, unharmed but silent. Waverly dismounted and held up the bottle. The man in the coat stood, took it from her hand, and examined it against the light. He nodded once, then cut Silas loose and pointed south. Waverly and Silas rode back without speaking. The shipment would go through now, but the riders had what they wanted—and Waverly had just handed them the one thing she'd promised to protect.