The Loyal Ones

Ch 21: The Farm

Though Dally couldn't hear anything, Inka turned and strode away in a random direction.Ansel grinned, watching her go. Then he winced. In the battle one of the Brairi had clawed him across the mouth, and the healing gash still split his top lip unpleasantly deep. "Look at that," he mumbled. "Imagine knowing your whole family, but you still can't even take a compliment for them."

"Mf," Dally agreed. They both thought about that for a second. The Front thralls had lots of ideas like that, about earning respect on your own. That kind of thing mattered if you stayed with your parents the way they did.

"You see how old Auna is, though?" Dally went on. "Maybe she'll keep us alive, when we catch up with the Brairi reinforcements."

"We're still calling them reinforcements, huh?" Ansel asked.

Even Nessie didn't look so sure. "Maybe they really were heading to Provok," they said, "like the Captain thought. To join the main force."

"Or they came to bait us into what we're doing right now."

That was something they all got to think about. The attack had been hard and fast, but it hadn't made a whole lot of sense. The Brairi couldn't have thought they'd beat a whole company with a small force like that.

Somewhere behind them, Sorrel really did let out a wail.

---

After two days, Dally had new blisters from the straps of his new Brairi pack, and another where he leant the harpoon over his shoulder. It was heavy on its own, and he'd slung tent parts and food bags on the end the way Inka showed him.

They'd crossed out of the barren flats into what Inka called 'poison forest'. It was dark, deep and nearly silent. Dally thought not much grew on the Front, but here the plants were thriving. And weird. Defective trees snaked around each other, dappled with vivid green light. It smelled strangely good; sweet and damp.

Inka tried to show them the tracks they were following, but when Dally looked it was just a tiny scuff in the dirt.

"This is from sickle claw, see?" Inka said, digging her own in, then lifting her foot to show the mark. "This way. There's not many." She hesitated."I think further than before."

They didn't find them that day. Or the next.

The trackers spent longer each time they searched for the trail. "I think this is a print...?" Inka said, squatting to stare at what looked like nothing at all.

On the fifth day, it rained. Sheets of water drummed on their backs and shoulders, soaking boots, tents, hair. Everyone stopped singing except Sathia the songwriter, who never stopped, ever. Their high, strong voice cut through the mist alone, tracing the arcs of a wordless new melody.

The auna stopped them all. She stood in a hollow at the base of a massive tree, sheltered in a cave of hardened wood.