Iris and Clive looked at each other. Iris felt her painfully parched throat and stomach so empty it felt like it was eating itself from the inside. She looked down the dark tunnel, then back outside to the bright grassland.

“Fine,” she said, knowing Clive’s mind had already been made up by his stomach. “Let’s just see where we are. Maybe there’s a river, or some berries or something.”

Clive was already climbing through the hole. She followed him. They glanced around the cave, which smelled funny—so musty that she covered her nose with a hand. Clive stopped at the mouth of the cave, staring at something. Iris followed him and did a double-take—there was an animal carcass on the ground just outside the cave, but not a normal-looking one. It was some kind of deer, but only the front half of it. Its eyes and mouth swarmed with black flies.

“What the . . .” Clive muttered. He crouched closer. “It looks like it was bit in half. What kind of animal could do that? How big would their teeth have to be?”

“I don’t know,” Iris said stiffly, “but I think we might be in its lair.” She glanced back at the hole, wanting to run back inside the safe darkness. But they would be stuck in the same predicament—starving and not knowing how much longer they had to walk, or if they were even going in the right direction.

“Come on,” she said, pulling her brother away from the dead animal. “Let’s get out of here.” She was blinded by the glaring sunlight and had to shade her eyes for a while before she could even see where she was going.

“You think that’s a monster’s lair?” Clive asked, awestruck.

“Monsters aren’t real, it’s probably just some kind of animal,” she said impatiently. They were surrounded by yellow grass so high that she couldn’t see above it, but it was flattened in a rough semi-circle around the cave, like the grass was regularly stepped on.

The grass swayed in the wind all around her, making a hushed noise like a whisper. She got chills. The cave was set into a cliff face, but it wasn’t so steep they couldn’t climb it.

She put a foot up, thinking she could get a better vantage point from above, but the rock immediately crumbled under her, sending her sprawling backward. Clive put a hand on her back to stop her from running into him. “I’ve got it,” he said, and began to climb.

She grimaced at the risk as her brother scrambled up the rocks barefoot, but knew he was a much better climber, and they needed to see where they were. She stood directly below him, watching his ascent carefully, preparing to catch him if he fell.

The wind blew stronger, tasseling her hair. She wished she had something to put it up with, but she doubted that would happen. She blew black strands out of her eyes. The wind whistled through the grassland. She glanced around at the strange noise, which sounded almost like an actual whistle, but quickly returned her eyes to her brother as his foot slipped. Pebbles rained down on her.

“Sorry,” Clive called.

“What do you see? Is there a river nearby? Or any houses?” The whistling noise came again, and she looked around, confused. What was that? It wasn’t happening with the wind this time. Were there people out here? Her stomach knotted at the thought. That would either be very good or very bad, depending on who they were. Surely most people would help two lost children, right? They had nothing to distinguish themselves as royalty, but also no money to buy anything with, unless she wanted to sell Oliver’s dagger.

She suddenly realized the blade was still in her hand—it had become so normal in her grip that she’d forgotten about it. She tossed it into the grass in case she had to catch Clive.

Clive found a place to brace himself against the rocks and looked out over the grass. “Um, yes—it looks like there’s a town over there. Do you think it’s safe to go and ask them for food?”

“Do we have a choice?” Iris murmured. Perhaps they would have to steal food to remain unseen. But she didn’t even know how that was done. Her mother would know; she’d spent years living in the streets of Breden, living off scraps and stolen purses. This adventure would have been far more fun if their mother were with them—then they could have been spending all this time alone with her, and she could tell them about her adventures when she was young.

“Iris!” Clive shouted, looking down at something in the grass. “Iris, it’s the monster! Move!”

“Very funny,” she called. “Come down.”

“RUN!” her brother screamed.

She turned and found the grass buckling as a huge animal came barreling toward her. She froze, not knowing which way to run—and then it was in the clearing with her, an enormous bear the color of the grass, head lowered as it charged her.

She fell back against the rock as images flashed before her eyes—her mother’s smile, her father’s warm hug, swimming in the turquoise ocean . . . she really was going to die.

Just before the bear reached her, she saw something fly through the air and hit the animal right in the face. Whatever it was burst, spilling bright red powder everywhere—some of it sailed away with the wind, but most of it stuck to the bear’s face. The disoriented animal’s charge was interrupted, but its momentum kept it running—and it slammed into the rocks to Iris’s right.

She let out a trembling breath of relief, backing away from the bear as it sneezed and rubbed at its nose with its paw, then sneezed again. It swung its head around to look for her, and she froze. It pawed at its eyes, then ducked its head and turned away.

“Climb!” came a voice from behind her, and she startled violently, but it was just a boy—probably the one who threw the projectile of red powder that saved her. It was funny, though, she mused in her deliriously relieved state—his hair was the same color as the grass, and the bear’s fur, like he was one of the creatures of the grassland. There was a silver whistle stuck in his mouth, tied around his neck by a string.

“Climb!” he hissed at her, holding his hands out as a foothold. She put her foot in his intertwined hands and reached up. He launched her up, which startled her, but in her desperation she managed to find solid handholds, then footholds. Clive, face pale, held out a hand to pull her further up.

A harsh whistle cut through the air, so loud she started again. She’d expected the boy to climb up after her, but when she looked down she saw that he was still on the ground, facing off the bear that was approaching him.

“What is he doing?” Clive demanded. The whistle had made the bear hesitate, but then it stood up on its back legs and roared at the boy, snapping its teeth. Foam dripped from its mouth. The boy stood his ground, eyes not leaving the bear.

Some of the powder must have gotten into Iris’s eyes, because they burned like they were on fire. She blinked and wiped at them, tears forming, but forced herself to keep them open to watch.

The bear swiped a huge paw, which should have torn the boy to pieces, but he ducked under the bear’s arm at the last second and danced away from it. The bear snarled and landed back on all fours so hard Iris could feel the thud.

She thought for sure this boy would now run to the rocks and climb, but instead he stood on the opposite side of the clearing. “Over here!” he shouted. The bear turned in his direction but kept pawing at its eyes, and Iris wondered how much it could see. “Come on, Tanter! I’m right here!”

“He’s mad,” Iris observed. Clive nodded slowly, mouth open.

The bear charged. It was even more terrifying from above, watching that bulk of fur and muscle run so fast. Iris’s nails dug into Clive’s arm. She turned her head to the side and half-closed her eyes, just in case this got bloody. But once again, just at the right moment, the boy jumped out of the way, dancing on his toes out of the animal’s reach. Then, finally, he kept going until he reached the cliffs and began to climb. Iris scrambled to help him, nearly slipping herself, but by the time she reached the point he was climbing toward, he had almost made it up to her level. She took his arm and pulled him up the last step anyway.

They were both panting as they found places to sit on the patchwork of boulders and crumbling rock. Clive started making his way toward them.

Iris and the boy looked down at the bear, who was still raging through the clearing. Then they looked at each other. His mop of pale-yellow hair hung partially down into a long, friendly face with high cheekbones and an impish smile. The fact that he was smiling after all that was so ridiculous that she started to laugh. Her laugh made him laugh, and then they were both doubled over, Iris’s empty stomach clenching painfully.

Clive came to sit by her knee, looking at the two of them like they were insane, and for some reason that made her laugh even harder.

“I thought you were—going to die,” the blond boy said between husky laughs.

“So did I,” Iris replied, and they laughed harder. “And then I thought—you were going to die, why did you keep egging it on like that?”

He was grinning, his laughter slowing back down to heavy breaths. “I just got to use—ten years of training—for the first time.”

Before she could ask what in the world that meant, a whistle in the distance made his head snap around. The three of them were silent as the whistle blew five times, and then the grassland rang with silence except for the soft, ever-present whisper of the grass.

The boy swore under his breath with some words Iris had never even heard before. She realized suddenly that they were lucky they were even speaking the same language. He was speaking the common tongue of the Northeast, which Iris and Clive were very practiced in by now—though it wasn’t very different from the common tongue of the South, which was their first language.

The boy put his silver whistle in his mouth again. “Cover your ears,” he told them, and when they did, he blew it twice. This time it wasn’t the harsh note he’d used toward the bear—whatever that was supposed to have done—but a high, clear note. She looked closely and saw that he was covering one of two holes in the top of the whistle.

No answer came. He got to his feet and blew the whistle twice again, louder. After a few seconds, the whistle in the distance let out a single, long blow. Then other whistles answered, one by one, around different places in the valley. She watched the boy look in every direction that they came from, counting under his breath. Then, after the fourth answer, he blew his own, twice again. Then he turned back to Iris and Clive.

“Who—who is that?” Iris asked uncertainly. She didn’t want a whole valley full of people to know her location. “What did you tell them?”

“That was my cousin. I was letting her know I haven’t been killed by a bear. Who are you?”

Iris didn’t have an answer ready for that one. “We’re . . . we’re lost.”

His blond eyebrows shot up. “I gathered that. How did you get here?”

After a moment, in a small voice, Clive said, “We took a wrong turn.”

The boy stared at Clive, then pointed out into the grassland. “There’s only one entrance to this valley.”

For the first time, Iris looked all the way around, and she immediately sucked in a breath. They were in a bowl valley, entirely full of grass. She could see a town from here, near the center, and a few dirt roads spanning out into the grass.

“Where did you come from?” Iris asked. “Who are you?”

“My name is Lyle. I was up in the rocks over there,” he said, pointing behind her. “I saw you come out of the cave and I ran down here. What were you doing inside a bear cave?”

“What country are we in?” Iris inquired, trying to buy herself time to come up with a story.

He blinked. “The Kailands.” His brows knit together.

“Oh,” she breathed. He had such a peculiar accent, one she’d never heard before, but now it made sense. She’d never met anyone from the Kailands before. It was just an empty territory that no one wanted at the moment. It didn’t have very many resources, and its government was loose because hardly anyone even lived there.

They had simply cut across the mountains. Most importantly, they had moved into neutral territory. Her shoulders relaxed. “Do you know how long it takes to get to Northfort from here?”

“Never heard of it.”

She had figured as much. Being so far out here, it was unlikely he could read or write, not to mention know his geography. He had such an interesting accent. Her father would have been able—and excited—to break down the different linguistic roots that influenced it. What was the native language of the Kailands?

“Of course,” she said suddenly, gesturing to him. “The common language of the Northeast, it’s your native tongue, isn’t it? It came from the Iridian empire. Which means—it’s from the Kailands originally. I’d never put that together before, I didn’t even think about people living here still.” An excited chill ran through her as she wondered, since he was so isolated here, if his accent was how the people of the Iridian empire would have spoken, back then.

Lyle’s frown deepened.

“Do you have any food?” Clive inquired.

Lyle looked between them. “Can we go back to the part where you . . . came out of a bear cave?”

“We came out of a tunnel,” Clive said blandly.

“Shh,” Iris hissed between her teeth.

“What?” her brother demanded. “Do you think he’s an Ordic spy?”

“A tunnel?” Lyle asked, frowning. “What, under the mountains?”

Iris, biting back her irritation, nodded. “We were escaping . . . from somewhere. Look, we just need to get to Northfort, our family is waiting there for us. And we need some food and water. And better clothes, if you have it.”

Lyle was still frowning, but he motioned for them to follow and began walking carefully along the rocks.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He pointed. “Watch place.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but she and Clive started to follow. Walking behind Lyle, she noticed a jagged rip in his trousers. It was on the back of his left calf, and the tattered edges were soaked in red. When had he gotten injured?

“Your leg,” she said aloud. “The bear . . .” she could have sworn the bear had missed him every time.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Lyle looked back at his leg and shook his head. “Rocks,” he said. “Be careful.”

She began to step more carefully. “Thank you, by the way. For saving me.”

He shrugged without looking back at her. “It’s my job.”

“What, to save people from bears?”

“Yes, actually.”

She had so many questions, she did not even know where to begin. But knowing how to get to Northfort was far more important than figuring him out. “Which . . .” She frowned, trying to remember all the maps she’d learned—she’d hardly ever glanced over here. “Which part of the Kailands? Are we north or south of Iridia?”

“I . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Are we closer to Cambria or Slovland?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know even that? How do you not know where you live?”

“Because I’ve never left this valley, so I don’t waste my time looking at maps.”

She blinked. Something happened to her brain, then—like a collapse. Of all the things she’d been through out in the world recently—war, politics, land rights, being separated from her father down south, all of the countries she’d visited along the way, the various cultures, the strange animals, all of the different languages . . .

“What?” she demanded, harsher than she’d meant to.

He seemed more amused than offended, but didn’t answer. Just then, they reached a flat place big enough for all three of them, and she saw a pack, longbow, and quiver that must be his. Lyle dug a water canteen out of the pack and tossed it to Clive.

Clive caught it and took three long drinks from it before passing it to Iris, who drank everything that was left shamelessly. She glanced at Lyle, who was crouched nearby watching them, and he nodded down toward the grass. “There’s a river down there. We can get more.”

She looked out at the valley again, the wind bending the stalks of grass in waves. She felt like they were sitting above a yellow ocean. Indeed, there was a gap in the grass that curved like a river, though she could not see its waters from here. The grass was too tall.

She let out a breath and felt herself almost relax for the first time since early that morning, when she had woken to alarm bells. She hated the way Oliver had yelled at her mother to armor herself, as if in seconds she would be fighting for her life.

Her mother was very good at fighting and even went into battles with her men sometimes. But if enough clansmen forced their way into her room, or they caught the castle on fire . . .

She wouldn’t let herself think that way. Her mother was safe, the fighting was done and the clansmen defeated, and now Oliver was heading to Northfort to find them. On horseback, he would make it in just a few hours. Everything was fine—her mother was more worried about her than she was about her mother.

She knew Oliver would get in trouble for leaving her and Clive alone, especially if they didn’t make it to Northfort soon. Who knew, maybe Oliver would even be demoted—or worse—for disobeying orders, but she doubted that. Her mother would just be furious with him, and that was plenty enough. She was probably yelling at him right this minute. The thought oddly helped.

“If I ask your names, will you just avoid that question too?” Lyle asked, handing them each an apple.

“I’m Clive,” her brother said. “She’s Iris.”

Iris glared at him, then dove into the apple. Juice got all over her face, but she could not care less. She pointed to Lyle’s bloody leg while she chewed. “You should probably do something about that.”

He looked down and sighed like it was a minor inconvenience that his calf was sliced open. He sat down and used a knife to cut his pant leg off above the wound, then tried to wipe away all the blood with the extra cloth. She was reminded of the man that morning, shot through the throat while looking right at them.

She averted her eyes, but it was too late—she gagged and leaned over to spit out half-chewed apple bits.

“Go slowly,” Lyle advised. “You haven’t eaten in a while, huh?”

Iris nodded, then wiped her mouth and stared at her apple for a few seconds before gingerly continuing to eat. Lyle handed Clive some dried meat, and Iris some cheese wrapped in wax paper.

“Lucky I packed such a big lunch.”

“Thank you,” Iris murmured as she unwrapped the cheese in her lap.

Lyle met her eye then, and she noticed his were a greenish-blue—turquoise, like the ocean by her father’s house, where she’d learned to swim. She looked away.

As Iris and Clive devoured all of the food, doing their best to split it half-and-half, Lyle made a makeshift bandage out of the ripped-off part of his pant leg and tied it around the wound.

Iris watched the grass bend and sway. She could hear it from here. It was a huge, but spread-out noise, like the roaring of the ocean.

Just as she was beginning to sweat in the sun, a breeze came to cool her off. It truly was beautiful, here. Peaceful. Quiet, except for the grass and the occasional bird call. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it.

“Why were you sitting up here?” Clive inquired, his tone friendlier now that he’d satisfied his stomach’s demands.

“They’re hunting a bear out there,” Lyle said, pointing. “I’m keeping an eye on the two mother bears that live over here, to make sure they don’t wander too close and attack the hunters. Tanter was the one you met, Lili is down over there. Usually I’m the one guiding the hunters, I’m just on break this week.”

Iris opened her eyes. “This week? How often does this happen?”

“We sell off around five or six bears a year to hunters. Most hunters stay a week, sometimes two or three, it depends.”

Well, Iris thought, lots of things made more sense, now.

Clive looked impressed and intrigued. He was eying Lyle’s bow, so Lyle handed it over to him. “Made it myself. Took forever.”

Clive ran his hands along the smooth wood with wide eyes.

“The red powder you hit the bear with,” Iris said, “what was it?”

He pulled a clay pot the size of his fist out of his bag and handed it to her. She turned it around in her hands. It was sealed by a cork on top. He nodded his head in the direction they had come from. “Dropped my slingshot over by her cave, so let’s not run into any more angry bears.”

Iris handed the pot back to him. He took it, then tossed it into the air and caught it, which made her a little nervous. “The red powder is pepper. We grow the plants in town. It’s a long process, but basically you make them into a paste, then let it dry in the sun. And meanwhile, remember not to touch your face under any circumstances.”

She let herself smile a bit. His easy tone was a relief, and she didn’t know how he was so calm after what he’d done. “I got some in my eye, it was terrible.”

He nodded, then pulled up his knees and rested his forearms on them. He touched the back of his neck. “It’s awful stuff. I got a whole face full of it once. My nose didn’t stop running for two days.”

“Did it blind the bear?” Clive asked. Iris was a bit heartened to hear her brother’s familiar tone of curiosity.

“Oh, no, she’ll be fine. They’re tougher than we are. I just hope she’ll be able to take care of her cub. Poor thing is probably still hiding in the grass.”

“There was half a deer down there,” Iris said. “They already have food.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lyle said, huffing a laugh and leaning back with a self-satisfied smile. “That was me.” At their stares, he explained, “I was giving them something to eat so they wouldn’t leave the cave to look for food. Hope it’s not covered in pepper, now.” He wrapped his arms around his knees again, and she thought she saw his hands trembling. Maybe not so unfazed as he seemed.

“Where did you get a deer?” Clive demanded, still baffled.

“It’s a gazelle, and I shot it.”

“How’d you cut it in half?”

“A knife.”

Clive wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“Yes, it was, actually.”

Iris smiled a bit. “And the whistle?” she inquired.

Lyle looked down at the whistle tied around his neck. “We train them to associate a certain sound with getting hit by the pepper. So if we ever run into a bear or one approaches us, we can blow the whistle and they’ll run away.”

“That’s really smart,” Iris muttered.

He inclined his head. “It works until it doesn’t. Angry mothers are still a problem.”

They all fell silent for a few moments, just breathing and looking out at the grass. Clive picked up a pebble and threw it down the mountainside.

As much as Iris wanted this moment of safety and quiet to continue forever, she felt the flicker of anxiety in her chest at the thought of their time limit. “We can’t get back in that tunnel, can we?”

Lyle shook his head. “She’ll be hiding in her den while she can’t see well. You’d have to wait days for her to leave.”

Iris let out a slow breath and looked at her brother. Clive looked back at her with simple exhaustion. She would have to keep making the decisions. Her whole body felt suddenly weary and heavy at the thought. She had no idea what to do. So she turned to Lyle. “We need to get to Northfort,” she sighed. “Quickly.”

Lyle nodded. It wasn’t just understanding—something in his eyes hardened, as if he took her words as an assignment that he intended to complete.

Curiosity bloomed in her chest—what an odd boy. She wanted to trust him, but she recalled that her first impression of him had been that he was insane, and she didn’t want to put her faith in someone who could be unpredictable.

“All right,” Lyle said, gathering his things, “how about we get down to town and get you some real clothing and more food. Then we can figure out where to go from there.”

“Not town,” Iris said quickly. “We can’t let anyone see us.”

“What? Why not?”

Iris and Clive looked at each other. Could they trust him with the truth? Clive said tentatively, “We’re the children of . . . someone important.”

Iris’s heart contracted at his insinuation of a singular parent. She swallowed it back. “There might be people looking for us. Bad people.”

“I don’t know how far Northfort is,” Lyle said, leaning on his bow, “but I doubt you’ll get there without a single person seeing you.”

“No one can learn who we are,” Iris amended. “Please, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone about us.”

“No matter who you are,” Lyle said mildly, “no one in my town will care, I can promise you that. We can trust them.”

“Please,” Iris said again. Her nerves were shot, her mind still reeling from the Ordics getting inside their fortress—could she trust anyone in this world other than her family? They had no choice but to trust Lyle now, but she would prefer to keep the list of people who knew they came out of that tunnel down to one.

Lyle looked uncertain.

“Our mother is rich,” she added. “If you help us, and don’t tell anyone, she will give you a reward.”

He blinked. “How much?”

“I don’t know how your monetary system works, but—“

“More than you can imagine,” Clive finished for her.

Lyle looked to Iris for confirmation, suspicion lurking in his eyes. At least she knew he wasn’t stupid. “I can’t give you a number,” she told him, “but it would be enough to set you up for a long time—maybe your whole life. I imagine she will give you as much as you want, so long as it isn’t unreasonable.”

“What’s unreasonable?”

“I don’t know, so long as it isn’t a chunk out of the treasury—“

“Our father has money, too,” Clive put in. He didn’t meet Iris’s eye as he said it.

“If you get us all the way to Northfort,” Iris said, “I imagine you could name your price. Anything you want.”

Lyle’s brow furrowed. “Who is your mother?”

Iris took a step closer to him. “Look, Lyle, I know this sounds ludicrous, but we did just come out of a tunnel under a mountain, barefoot and in our nightclothes, so that should tell you something. I just need you to know that it is extremely important that the two of us get to that fort as soon as possible. If the wrong people get ahold of us . . .” She shuddered to think of it. “It would be very bad for our entire country.”

“And us,” Clive added, rubbing his arms. “Very bad for us.”

She thought Lyle would continue to argue, but after a few moments, he said, “All right. I’ll get you to Northfort.”

Iris let out a breath. “Thank you.”

Lyle stood up to face the valley and lifted his whistle to his lips again. He blew it three times. The response came a second later—two whistles from the center of the valley.

“What are you telling them now?” Iris asked.

“That I’m leaving my post.”

“Don’t you need to stay here?” Clive asked, squinting against the sun to look at Lyle. “To make sure the bears don’t eat them?”

Lyle shrugged. “They’re almost done for the day anyway, it shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, Tanter can’t see and Lili is full of gazelle.” He picked up his things, motioned for them to follow, and led them along a barely visible trail down the rocks. “I’m going to take you to one of the hunting cabins,” he told them over his shoulder. “No one will be there, but it will be fully stocked—food, water, wood to burn. You can stay there until we figure out what to do next, or at least for the night.”

Iris’s heart constricted. “Can’t we go now? They’ll be so worried if we aren’t there by tonight . . .”

Lyle glanced back at her. “It would take us three or four hours to get to the nearest town, and even if we were to make it there by this evening, we would just have to spend the night there instead of here.”

“Don’t you have horses?”

“We have one old plow horse, yes. But we all share him, and I think he’s in Brey right now anyway.”

Iris sighed. They reached the ground, then, and she and Clive looked around the tall grass nervously.

“We’re far from the cave,” Lyle assured her. “Just follow me.” He led them to a narrow path that she never would have found on her own. It split the grass just enough for a person to walk through. Grass stalks slid across her shoulders.

“Are there more bears?” Iris asked nervously.

“Dozens. But you can hear them before they get close—just stay quiet.”

Iris and Clive glanced at each other nervously. Iris had even more questions, but she held them off. She found herself staring at the back of Lyle’s neck as she walked instead. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he had scars from a bear claw. She shivered.

They walked in silence for a long time—half an hour? An hour? Iris stopped caring because she found herself feeling rather peaceful. They had a plan, of sorts. They had help, at least.

For some reason, she found she was completely comfortable following Lyle’s steps, watching his back—the way his shoulder blades moved and his head turned from side to side as he listened. She was willing to let him lead the way. Maybe it was because she was exhausted and wanted someone else to be in charge. Maybe it was because she had a good feeling about him.

Lyle slowed to a stop and crouched down, and Iris and Clive quickly did the same. Lyle was listening so intently that his head was cocked sideways.

Heart pounding, she wanted to ask if it was a bear, but remembered to be quiet.

After a long moment, Lyle pulled off his pack and handed it to Iris. She took it, but gave him a puzzled look. He motioned for them to stay low and silent, but he didn’t look worried. Not a bear? He stood up and vanished into the grass.

Iris crouched even lower, suddenly terrified of every rustle in the grass. She and Clive looked at each other and listened hard.

“Lyle?” they heard a man’s voice say, making Iris jump. He sounded worried, but also frustrated. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“What happened? Why did you blow your whistle like that? And then you didn’t answer us until we declared an emergency? For a couple of minutes there we thought . . .”

“I’m all right, really—I’m sorry. Some rocks gave out and I fell—and I ran right into Tanter.”

The man let out a harsh breath. “You what?”

“She wasn’t happy that I was so close to her den and she charged me—I had to use a pot on her, and it worked, but she was still between me and the rocks, so it took me a minute to get out of there. I didn’t hear any of the whistles until the five. I’m sorry.”

“Well it’s no wonder—gods, boy, are you sure you’re all right? Did she get you at all?”

“No, but the rocks did. I was going to stay up there the rest of the day, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

There was silence, then, “That might need stitches.”

“That’s why I’m headed back.”

The man sighed. “I knew something was going to happen. I almost called the hunt off today.”

“Really, I’m all right.”

“I know you are. Go get Jessica to take care of that.” He paused, then said, “Where’s your pack?”

“Oh,” Lyle exclaimed, as if he had just remembered. “I took it off at the base of the rocks—I must have left it over there. I was trying to get the bleeding stopped, I must have forgotten it.”

“Leave it, then. Go back to town.”

“I’ll never find it again if I don’t look now. It’s not far.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. My knife’s in there.”

“All right. After that, go home and take it easy for a while, all right? That will take some time to heal. You don’t need to be walking three hours every day. Raven can switch between her post and this ridge for the rest of the week.”

“But—that won’t be enough.” Iris thought this was the first time Lyle had spoken genuinely. He seemed upset. “They can roam halfway to the cabin before Raven even notices they’re gone. Victoria is still in town, she can take my place.”

“She is?”

“That’s what Raven said.”

The man was silent for a moment, then he said, “Will you ask her when you get back?”

“I will.”

Silence, then, “Lyle, are you sure nothing else is wrong?”

Lyle hesitated for just a moment before saying, “Yes, sir.”

Iris’s stomach was heavy with guilt.

“I did lose my slingshot, though. It’s by Tanter’s cave.”

“All right, you can spend your spare time this week making a new one.”

“I will.”

A few moments later, Lyle appeared back around the bend of the trail. He held out his hands for his pack, and Iris passed it to him. He put it back on. He let out a long breath and motioned for them to sit in the grass. Hesitantly, they did.

“We have to wait for him to get off the road,” he said quietly.

“Who is that?” Iris asked.

“My uncle.”

“Oh.” She felt terrible for making him lie to his family. Maybe this was a bad idea. She examined Lyle’s face, but he was just staring into the grass, still listening. It didn’t seem to bother him as much as it would have bothered her. She wouldn’t lie to her mother for anyone. Maybe he just wasn’t as close with his family.

After a minute of sitting in silence, Lyle motioned for them to wait, then disappeared around the bend again. A moment later he reappeared and motioned them forward. They got up and followed.

Iris had thought ‘road’ had meant another path in the grass, but when she turned the bend there was an actual dirt road lifted high enough up that you could look out over the grass.

Lyle came to her shoulder and pointed to a subtle movement in the grass far to their left. “That’s a bear.” He pointed to some dark spots in the distance in a clearing. “Those are gazelle.” He shaded his eyes and pointed in another direction, toward a patch of grass moving in multiple places. “And those are bison.”

She looked around the valley in complete awe. Clive did the same, open-mouthed. They had been inside a castle for too long, and before that a huge southern city. They had forgotten what the natural world was like. They had never seen or heard anything like this grass before.

She noticed Lyle watching her as she looked around. “It’s—beautiful,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. He started walking.

“You’ve really never left this valley?” she asked him as she followed.

“No.”

“Not once?” Clive demanded.

“I’ve been to Brey, which is the next town, but it’s at the entrance to the valley.”

Iris felt the need to explain to him how insane that was, but didn’t know where to begin. “You’re . . . missing a lot.”

“A lot of war,” Clive muttered. “I’d rather live here.”

“I think,” Lyle said quietly, “that everyone out there is missing a lot.” He was looking out at the grass, and the craggy black mountains encasing it.

“Lyle?” Iris said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“How are you planning to get us to Northfort if you’ve never even left this valley?”

Lyle looked back at her with a smile. “We’ll figure it out as we go, that’s how. Or you’ll figure it out, and I’ll keep you from dying.”

“Again?”

“As many times as it takes.”

She smiled. She liked his walk. It was confident and smooth. His smile was easy, and his demeanor friendly. She wanted to trust him. He had thrown himself between her and a bear before even meeting her, after all. She owed him more than words could express, or money. When they got to Northfort, she would make sure her mother granted Lyle anything he wanted.

If they made it, that was. And if her mother was alive and well.

She looked down at her hand, suddenly feeling the absence of Oliver’s dagger. She’d left it by the bear’s cave. She clenched her fist and let out a long, slow breath, then fixed her eyes on Lyle, on his scars. She found herself whispering a prayer under her breath, to gods she hardly believed in, that the three of them would make it to Northfort alive.