Her feet ached. Every morning, when Sojo woke, her feet -

“Wait.”

Sojo rolled out of bed and opened the flap a hair. She held her foot up to the scant light and poked it. “What.” She poked it a little harder. “…ow?”

Her foot… didn’t ache. Much. For the first time in far too long, Sojo stood up and found it pleasant. Sure, there was still tenderness, but in the morning light she could see the broken blisters beginning to heal, the raw patches scabbing over. She curled up in her tent for a few minutes to keep from disturbing her dream. If she woke now, it just might break her.

Soon, though, the smell of breakfast started to intrude, and she roused herself from the bedspread. She could tell Mirrel was being clever again; whenever he was proud of his morning meal – or just tired of waiting for the group to wake up – he would flick a pinch of spice into each tent. The smell alone usually roused them within moments.

She crawled slowly out of the tent, each motion a glorious victory over the road. “Brehen!” she called out, “I think I need to give that salve one more chance.”

Brehen blinked at her. Distracted as he was by sleep and the dawning sun, it took him a moment to realize he was blinking aggressively at the cookpot. He turned his head towards her. “Ehn?”

“My feet are finally patching themselves up,” she said, reaching for Mirrel’s stew like a hungry bird. “I think now they might- mmmph.”

Mirrel hummed happily at the sight, and passed a bowl of stew to the others, refusing to let go of Eyn’s until she had it firmly in hand. “Well that’s good to hear,” he said. “Any other excitement, or should I share my news?”

Seeing nothing, he continued. “Take a gander, then,” he said, pointing to the horizon beyond the wagon. They dutifully stared at the sky, empty save for a wispy cloud near the horizon. “There was a plume of smoke over there a little while ago. Good size too. Close as we are to the road-end, I think we might run into the Scouts soon.”

Brehen yawned, passing his bowl back to Mirrel and picking up Eyn’s from where she’d dropped it. She blushed, and turned away to start taking her tent apart. Sojo smiled. “Looks like we’ll get a chance to harass them for ourselves. I, for one, have an assortment of questions for them.”

Mirrel frowned, brushing dirt off of the bowl bottoms. “What do you hope to get out of them, really? I don’t expect they’ll be eager to share. At best we might get them to direct us to the furthest of the settlements so we have a last chance at restocking.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Brehen cut in, surrounded by the wreckage of his tent. “I could certainly use some advice on their grazing practices. It’d be a relief to know of anything toxic to Sow and Fallow before we find out for ourselves.”

“What about you, Eyn?” Sojo asked, trying to entice her into the conversation.

“Nothing to ask them,” she replied.

Sojo frowned. She was normally one of the more energetic of the party in the mornings. Never very conversational, as a rule, but this was odd. “Did you sleep alright?”

Eyn’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I… might have been fiddling with those two puzzles a little later than I should have,” she said. “You really delivered with them. I’ve barely been able to put them down.”

Sojo nodded, breathing a little easier. “I’m glad. There are worse things to be losing sleep over.”

“And maybe you’ll stop dropping my dishes if you give those hands some more exercise.” Mirrel said with a grin. Eyn looked down at her slender hands, outraged.

-

Mirrel and Eyn were almost back on polite speaking terms when the Scouts passed by. For a moment, Sojo was worried they weren’t stopping, but the back half of the company peeled off to meet them while the rest continued on.

Even at half-strength, the riders made a show of circling the group before coming to rest a dozen paces away. The leader of the group - or so Sojo assumed, having a fancier hat and shiny sword belt - dismounted and walked over.

“Good morning, travellers!” He approached at a measured pace, creases of worry on his face testifying to a habit of vigilance and forethought. “We saw your hail, is there some trouble we can help you with?”

Sojo smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand. “No trouble, but we were hoping to take a bit of your time if we might. We have a few questions about the land up ahead.”

Again, she saw worry. Sojo glanced around at the other riders and saw similar expressions. Some of the horses were riderless, she noticed.

“I can leave a few folk with you to answer some questions, but the most of us will need to be getting on if there’s nothing urgent.” The well-dressed man turned back to his company and gestured at three of the riders. “I’ll pass the word along to the next group heading out, they might find you along the way.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Moments later the company was thundering off, three souls fewer.

Sojo turned to study the riders left behind. Brehen was moving toward one of the two women; she was shorter, her slight dimples and soft expression lending her a kind air. The other woman had rough leather armour and stood apart, keeping herself between the party and the horses, Sojo noticed. Her expression wasn’t unkind, but everything about her, stance, tense posture, and fidgeting hands gave an impression of distrust. Eyn gave her a wide berth, almost shielding herself behind the last rider. He was tall and thin with a gaunt face, but seemed friendly enough. His eyes, however, were bloodshot.

“Is it alright that we’re keeping you back?” Sojo asked the riders. “If there’s trouble starting, all we’d need is reassurance we’re headed for the next settlement.”

Tense looks were exchanged before the scout in rough armour answered. “No, it should be fine. There’s nothing pressing now that we’re this far back from the edge lands.” She sighed, shifting from foot to foot.

“I noticed some of the horses were riderless,” Sojo said slowly. “Is that something we should be concerned about?”

“Oh, I’d sure think so-” the male scout started, but the armoured woman’s sharp glance held him back.

“You’re right to be cautious, but so long as you’re in a settlement I wouldn’t fear. It’s not until you get well into the Sink that things get rougher.” The armoured woman was starting to calm, Sojo could see. Her stance was opening, and her voice didn’t sound so brittle. The tension was bleeding into her own party, though, if their quietness meant anything. “We think it was animal attacks,” the rider continued. “Can’t blame beasts for being aggressive when they live in such a barren place. Anything looks like food to a starving wolf.”

“The riders weren’t killed, mind you,” the kinder-seeming woman cut in. “They were in the wagons that didn’t stop with us. That’s why the Captain was in such a rush. He didn’t want to leave them.”

“If you’ll indulge us, then, we might as well be acquainted. I’m Sojo, leader of this expedition. Brehen’s our master of horse, Mirrel the head chef, and Eyn is our problem solver and scout, of sorts.” Sojo said, gesturing at the others in turn. Something was pretty clearly being held back, she thought, but there were easier questions first. And seeming amiable would help loosen tongues, in the end.

“I’m Sergeant Garnet, of the 12th Company Scouts,” the shorter woman replied proudly. “Those two are Harran and Martre. You’d’ve had a Lieutenant to speak with, but half of ’em were in the wagons. Still, we can probably answer whatever you need.” The Sergeant paused, taking a moment to collect herself. “So what can we do for you?”

Brehen stepped forward. “As I was saying to Martre, we’d heard the grazing gets worse when you get further into the East. My worry was that, not knowing the local grasses, there’d be something toxic to our horses.”

The scouts nodded unhappily, Martre patting her horse’s neck. “There’s a small yellow-green plant that grows out there, gets to ankle-high. Don’t graze the horses once you start to see them. We haven’t figured out what it is, but something growing around there upsets them, and they’ll take ill if they eat for more than a couple weeks. Until then, though, it shouldn’t be an issue. You won’t see it before Eastgate.”

“Is that the next town out, then?” Sojo asked.

“It’s the last town,” Harran replied. “A few have tried settling past it, but nothing’s growing fast enough to hold them through winter.”

Sojo gestured to Eyn. “Would you mind getting the compass bearing for Eastgate, then? I don’t want to miss it. You said you wouldn’t need to ask anything…?” Eyn nodded and brought Harran over to their maps. The riders seemed to have tensed up again, she noted, frowning.

“So, what brings you here?” Sergeant Garnet asked. “Seems a little odd not to know the name of the town you’re headed for.”

“Oh, well, we aren’t planning to stay.” Sojo said. “We-”

“Not us, no. We’re travellers!” Mirrel interjected, and Sojo winced. It seemed he’d warmed up to the scouts, then. “Voyeurs of the horizon! Couldn’t stay cooped up like that, with walls and ceilings blocking out the glorious empty view.” He grinned. “No, we’ve come to this empty land to find something worthy of being stared at, and we aren’t going home until we’ve seen it!”

The riders’ expressions had turned stony at Mirrel’s outburst. It could still be salvageable, Sojo thought. They shouldn’t distrust explorers, even if they might dislike them on professional grounds. He’d managed an impressively awkward phrasing, though.

“We’re explorers,” Sojo said quickly. “We were hoping to enter Eastgate to restock, but we’ll be heading beyond there in a day or two. We want to map out the Eastern edges, and maybe find something worth telling about back home.”

She’d expected that to pacify the scouts… It didn’t.

“Go home.” The Sergeant ordered. “You aren’t prepared enough for the Sink. Not nearly.”

“We weren’t even prepared for it,” Harran said. “We weren’t ready for poisoned horses or wolf-mangled officers, but that doesn’t cover it by half.”

“It’s parched soil and useless land for another 50 miles, and then you get to the Sink proper. Nothing but sand and sun for all the days we spent there,” Martre concluded.

“How do the animals survive, then?” Brehen asked.

“Are you sure it’s wolves attacking?” Eyn looked from one soldier to the next.

“Oh, we’re sure,” the hard-eyed Sergeant replied. “I pulled an inch-long wolf fang from my Lieutenant’s shoulder. Hard to miss, that.” The Sergeant and Eyn locked gazes, and Sojo could tell something was amiss. “We Scouts have had to deal with their kind before, it’s part of the profession. But I’ve never seen beasts plot ambushes, or disappear so quick without finishing off their hunted meal. Something’s wrong with the land out there and it’s no place for amateurs. Or pretenders.”

She was nearly spitting her words by the end of her speech, and the Scouts closed ranks by their horses. “If you’ve any sense, you’ll turn back. Anyone in Eastgate’ll agree with me, I assure you. Now, unless there’s anything else you need, we’ll be heading off to rejoin the company.”

Sojo glanced at Eyn, who was nearly steaming with anger held in check. Mirrel seemed no better, unable to tolerate disdain at the best of times. Brehen, at least, was calm. She hadn’t seen him upset yet on their trip, though, so it was hard to judge. It was a moot point to delay: the scouts wouldn’t be sharing any secrets over lunch regardless.

“No, but thank you for taking the time,” she said. “I hope your fellows have an easy recovery.”

Sojo saw a last twist of grief in the riders’ eyes. “They won’t.”