They arrived at the banks of the Great Ribbon, as Eli had predicted, late the next morning. The hills fell away swiftly to a broad, flat stretch of land on the near side of the river. Across the water, steep cliffs cast a shadow that reached the near bank even with the sun so high overhead. Mara had seen the river before, of course, but out west it was just a tumble of white-blue rapids, cutting a path through green farmland. Here, it was swollen and winding, still a powdery white-blue and swift moving, but calmer. In the midday sun, it resembled the ribbon it was named for, snaking through the broad white-pebbled shores along its banks.

Eli held them back in the hills to make camp until nightfall, as there would be no way to stealthily cross that great flat expanse during the day. Mara couldn’t sleep, in part because of the bright sunshine, in part because of the looming task ahead of her.

Nick napped contentedly, head on her lap, while she sat and stared at the glints of silver through the trees. Eli had left as soon as they were settled, taking only the bow. When she asked if he intended to hunt, the answer was a single shake of his head, eyes flicking to Nick, and a low, “Not for food.”

He didn’t return until the sun cast long, red-lined shadows and painted the river crimson. His posture was tight, expression grim. It lightened when Nick ran up to hug him–a habit he’d formed near the eastern boundary of Loftland–and show off the worms he’d dug up beneath a nearby tree. As soon as Nick wandered back off to keep digging, though, he tightened back up.

“More Order patrols than I expected,” he told her before she could ask.

“Can we still cross?” She knew she oughtn’t hope for ‘no,’ but she wouldn’t mind taking the long way if it meant taking a bridge or a boat instead of whatever cold, frightening method he had in mind.

He sat beside her, stretching his legs out with a sigh as he dug through his pack for a water flask. She didn’t care for the knowing glance he shot her over the top of the flask. “Yes, Mara.”

“Oh. Good. So…” she rubbed her sweaty hands down her thighs. “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll wait until dark. Move down to the water. There’s driftwood all up and down the banks. We’ll find one decent-sized. Lash the packs to it. With your permission, I’ll have Nick sleep. You’ll hang on to him and the driftwood. I’ll tow you across.”

“You’ll tow us across,” she repeated, disbelief souring her voice.

He frowned at her. “I’m a strong swimmer.”

Mara squeezed the bridge of her nose and tried not to scream. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was doing everything right. He was keeping her and Nick safe, taking them where they needed to be. But she was just so tired of being so useless. His entire plan for the river crossing was for her to flop about behind a piece of driftwood while he towed her across!

“Is there…” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Is there anything I can do? To help? I can’t swim, but I could… I could…”

She couldn’t do a Depthsbound thing.

“You’ll be hanging on to Nick. It’s too dangerous to tie him. And you’ll be holding on, yourself. And you’ll be kicking.”

“Kicking?”

“Yes, kicking. Helping to propel us forward and keep yourself warm.”

“Is the water cold?” She was watching his face and caught the subtle wince.

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“Very.”

“What about Nick?”

“I can use magic to keep him warm. You too, if the exertion isn’t enough.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And that won’t be too much? You’ll still be able to swim?”

He tsked, dropping his head back against tree with a long-suffering sigh. “Your lack of faith is getting hurtful.”

“You’re not the one about to be towed across the river like a sack of flour.”

“I wouldn’t transport a sack of flour this way. What use is wet flour?”

“Oh, good. So I’m heartier than a sack of flour.”

“With respect to waterproofing, anyway.”

“Oh, ha,” she drawled, tossing a spiny pinecone at him without much velocity. With a bracing breath, she pulled her pack toward her and rummaged through what few supplies they had left. “You hungry?”

They ate a small, cold meal while the sun faded, which Mara barely tasted. When Nick’s eyes grew sleepy, she tucked him in with a shower of extra hugs and kisses, trying not to let her fear show in her eyes or come through in her voice.

Once Nick had fallen asleep naturally, she let Eli put some magical weight behind her son’s slumber and they set about packing up their hasty camp. They waterproofed their bags as best they could, transferring everything they didn’t want to get wet from the outer pockets to the insulated interior, protected by oiled canvas, and Eli explained that the bags would float on their own if they did the job properly.

He kept a spare waterproofed sack free for their boots and outerwear, the implication being that she would have to remove her boots and outerwear, which would leave her in her underwear. She got so far as to open her mouth to ask if that was really necessary before common sense caught up with her. For one, she didn’t have to know how to swim to know that waterlogged clothing would make it harder. She’d done enough laundry to appreciate the weight of wet cloth. For another, if Eli had lascivious intentions towards her, she’d have sensed them long before now, and she hadn’t. For yet another, even if he did want to see her in her underthings, he’d picked a terrible night to trick her into it. There was no moon, and by the time they finished preparing their things, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

Without fanfare, they set off into the darkness, picking their way slowly through the trees. Eli went first, Nick draped over his shoulders, and Mara followed behind him, holding onto his pack so as not to lose him in the dark. He led her around the trees, but her feet kept finding holes and branches to stumble over, and she felt his body lurch a time or two as he stumbled as well.

Then they broke out of the trees and Mara gave up on watching her footing and simply hung her head back on her neck to marvel at the stars.

She’d never seen such a sky. All her life, there had been either buildings or trees to obstruct the view. She’d never seen the scattered stars sprawl from one horizon to the other, forming a perfect, cloudless dome. She felt like a toy, displayed before eyes that saw more than her own. Were the stars laughing as they watched her little drama play out? Did they scoff to see her her traipse about the earth in her soft, perishable body, all worked up about the outcome of her life as if it had any bearing on the way the world turned? Did it bore them, watching her mourn her husband, her precious marriage that had begun and ended in the blink of a celestial eye?

Rocky earth gave way to stones beneath her feet, and she lowered her attention back to her body–a body tense and shivering with dread and anticipated cold. The midsummer air was balmy, but the water ahead was an undulating satiny black amidst the shifting velvet darkness all around. To the depths with the stars and their grandiosity. All she could think was that the water looked frigid.

They stopped near enough to the bank that Mara could hear not just the steady hum of the river but the happy little laps and splashes of wavelets against the rocky shore. Eli gave her Nick, and she fumbled with his floppy body, her balance askew in the darkness.

“Stay here,” Eli whispered. “I’ll be back.”

She waited, standing awkwardly with her feet braced against the uneven rocks, hugging Nick’s warm body to her and yearning more for Davy than she had since she first learned of his death. The dreams, mysterious as they were, had held her grief at bay. It was hard to feel his loss when she passed every night in the warmth of his embrace with his voice in her ears and the scent of him all around. It was hard to feel his loss even during the day, occupied as she was with survival.

But right now, she missed him to the core of her being. She was frightened. She was cold. She was alone beneath a vast and condescending sky. She wanted his arms around her now, shielding her and Nick both. She wanted his voice in her ear now, murmuring reassurances and promises to keep her safe. She wanted him now, on the banks of the frigid river. Not later, when she slept.

Now.