“IT WON’T take long before they discover we’ve gone,” said Michael in thought-shapes. “And they’ll expect us to take this road. But don’t worry, I have a plan, if we can hold out for the next two miles. I just hope my friends are OK. It was very brave of them.”

They soon heard horses’ hooves some distance behind them, but they did not seem to be gaining on them yet. But that would not last—their horses would tire before their pursuers’. He was desperately looking for a spot he had discovered years before, during his school­days, somewhere where he knew they could safely turn off the road. Fortunately there was a full moon.

At length he pulled up his horse. Rippling across the road was a narrow stream flowing over a bed of stones and gravel. Quickly he turned his horse to the left and picked his way carefully along the stream bed, urging Rachel to do the same. In a minute they were out of sight of the road. They stopped.

“With any luck they won’t have seen where we left the road: the stream will have covered our hoof-prints. And also there are so many other hoof-prints on the road, that they won’t guess that we’ve turned aside here.”

They were in luck. In a few minutes they heard the sound of several horses galloping towards the stream, then splashing across it and continuing along the road.

“But where do we go from here?”

“Not back to the road, that’s for sure. They’re sure to realise they’ve lost us, before long, then they’ll turn back. We need to steer to the north—or at any rate to the north-east. The land is less populated in that direction, and there are fewer roads.” This was the kind of travel more suited to Michael—more like his expedition to the Fringes, all those months ago. But the going would be tough: winter was fast approaching and there was every chance of snow. That would be a serious problem for them: their hoof-prints would not be clearer if they’d been cast in stone. And the distance was daunting. It was a full 300 miles from Kentak to Rigo by the road, but for them it would be more like 400. On poor tracks and in poor weather, it could well take them at least two months…

For the present, they picked their way along a narrow stony track. Luckily their horses’ hooves made little mark. Michael was hopeful that they had thrown off the pursuit, for now. There was plenty of water, in the form of streams crossing the track, but Michael was beginning to worry about how they would manage for food. Although they had started with full packs, that would soon be exhausted. Also they would need warmer clothes.

At least they seemed to be safe from pursuit for now. So now Michael had time to reflect. Rachel seemed to be reflecting, too. She it was who came up with the obvious question, in thought-shapes:

“How did they know we were at that flat? What brought them there so quickly?”

“I wish I knew,” replied Michael. “They must have guessed that we were making for Kentak. Maybe that farm-boy was able to point me out to the Inspector after all. If so, why didn’t they act there and then—at Waknuk church?”

“I think they were afraid to,” put in Rachel. “Amongst all that crowd of people—and remember the Inspector doesn’t stand in as good stead there as in the days of Strorm. Many folk in Waknuk seem to be—well if not exactly rebelling—in doubt about the Purity laws. It’s possible that if he’d come straight at you, he’d have been lynched…”

“Well, it didn’t take them long to get on the chase. How they found the flat is anyone’s guess. Perhaps, once they’d got my name, they asked at the school. They could have found out who my friends are. Oh! I’m hoping they’re all right. But for now, I’m hoping we can get far, far away before they pick up the trail. But I’m not going to deceive you: this is extremely dangerous even without pursuit. We are going well away from the road. There are few townships where we’re going. There may be wild beasts—not only Deviations—but other animals: bears. And if we don’t find food soon, we shall starve. Will you be able to face that?”

“Michael, if we’re facing death, I want to face it with you. If we die, we die together.”

Michael could think of nothing to say to that.

It was still dark, and the moon was setting. They decided to make camp, where they were, for what was left of the night. It would be madness to try and pick their way along the trail in pitch-darkness. They had brought blankets, but the night was still bitterly cold. They huddled together in their clothes, for warmth.

“Not much of a wedding night, is it?” said Michael, in words.

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They had had little sleep when dawn finally broke.

Michael rose first. Now that it was day, he decided to explore a bit around their camp. About a hundred yards off, he found a fairly deep rock pool. Testing the water, he found to his surprise that it was slightly warm. Every other stream and pool they’d passed had been bitterly cold. He guessed that this one must be fed from underground by a hot spring. Enthusiastically, he stripped off his clothes and plunged into the water.

As he came up for air the second time, he saw Rachel at the poolside. She too had stripped off, and she plunged in to join him. Laughing, they came together in the middle of the pool and hugged one another.

“We could resume our wedding night here, couldn’t we?” said Rachel, in words, coyly.

“It’s not night any more,” said Michael, unable to avoid being reminded of the early-morning romp in the washtub, with—with Stephanie. He was a bit reluctant, but Rachel was determined. He was delighted to yield, this time. Afterwards, having dried himself and dressed quickly, he surveyed the narrow trail that they were following.

It seemed to have been little used, but it was quite distinct, winding its way amongst the terrain that was getting steadily more rocky, with many streams and pools. They resolved to follow it as far as it would take them. But before they set out, they had an urgent task to perform, as Rachel reminded Michael.

Rachel volunteered to have first go, this time. Putting out all her strength, she issued the thought-shape: “Mark? Are you there?”

Nothing.

Then Michael had a try. Same result.

“What do you suppose? Shouldn’t they have reached Kentak by now?” said Rachel in words.

“If they have, they should be in range. We’re still only a few miles from Kentak, even now.”

“Oh dear!” cried Rachel, and burst into tears—the first that Michael had seen her shed. He remembered how she thought she’d lost Mark, all those months ago, when he had simply ceased to communicate. But he had come back. Nevertheless, was her earlier premonition now coming true…? He could only put his arm around her, lamely remind her that they still had each other, and still had a dangerous journey to undertake: together. Mark—and Stephanie, if she was still with him—would have to look after themselves.

“Rachel. They might simply be asleep,” he finally came out with. Rachel checked her sobs, and threw her arms round his neck.

“Sorry. Sorry! I’m such a fool. I shouldn’t have… It’s just so like—so like after that—I was left so alone…” Her disjointed words seemed to confirm Michael’s fears. She slipped into thought-shapes: “Please forgive me: I was just thinking about that first time…”

“Of course,” Michael replied, soothingly. Then, in words, “Question is, what do we do? Wait for them another day, and risk the pursuers getting on to us—or press on?”

“Oh Michael! I’d love to stay here a while! That pool was so lovely! But…”

“We have to move on, Rachel. Even if it means losing contact with Mark for good. We’ll give it an hour, then we’ll move. It’ll be some hours before we’re out of range, if Mark has recovered at least most of his former strength. There’s still a chance…”

They saddled the horses, which looked in better shape after their rest. Michael wondered how long they would last. What he wanted was to come to a village or township—somewhere where they could perhaps buy provisions—or more.

They picked their way slowly along the trail. There was still no word from Mark. They passed many streams and rock pools—some of them evidently warm, like the one they had bathed in, some even hotter, with curls of steam rising from them. They seemed to be passing through a region of volcanic activity; at any rate, they could avoid freezing whilst they were on this path! For the whole day the path wound its way across almost barren country, just a few scrub bushes, and they saw no-one. In the evening they sought out another warm pool and camped beside it for the night.

They continued like this for another four days. By now they had given up contacting Mark. Rachel was clearly still upset but managed to compose herself. On the fifth day they noticed a line ahead, cutting across their path. It appeared to be a road. They stopped a few hundred yards short of it.

“Wait here with the horses,” said Michael, and stealthily approach­ed the road. At the moment he could see no-one on it. He wished he had a map—but maps were hard to come by in Labrador, except in Rigo. He tried to recall what he had seen on the maps at the school, and with the sun shining, he took bearings as best he could. He returned to Rachel.

“I’m not certain, but I don’t think this road leads back to Kentak. I don’t remember the layout too clearly, but I think it heads west and a bit to the north—not the direction we’ve come from. And the other way, east, is definitely the way we want to go. If we meet people, they’ll just assume we’re ordinary travellers. Or so I hope.”

The road, when they started upon it, seemed to be in a poorer state than the one they had taken from Kentak. It had lots of deep ruts and potholes; certainly if they had had a cart, they would have had some difficulty picking their way along it. This encouraged Michael: he said that, with luck, it would lead to less populous parts, but hope­fully still to a village of some sort. They did pass several travellers on this road; mostly on horseback, a few on foot. They were ignored: clearly they were taken for just another pair of travellers.