Androkles leaned on his spear, exhausted, and said, “Get moving. Garbi, pick up those blankets. Flower, get the pot and bring that firewood you picked up. Agurne, are the horses ready?”

  “Where are we going?” asked Agurne.

  “Does it matter?” he snapped in frustration.

  “Yes,” said Agurne levelly.

  He huffed and said, “Southeast, of course, since that’s where Wolfscar was headed.”

  “He said there were mountains.”

  “I know. I was right here when he said it. And besides that, there are mountains most directions from here.” Turning, he said, “No, Garbi, don’t fold it. Just throw it in there. We don’t have time. We should already be moving.”

  The camp was all back on the cart faster than he expected. Flower thought tossing the bread pan in the snow to cool it down was a good idea, but it didn’t crack. Other than that, everything went smoothly.

  Agurne took her seat on the driver’s bench, and Garbi went to climb up with her before Androkles said, “Garbi, I want you riding on Poppy. If you have to get away, get away. Got it? Just go, if that’s your only choice. Flower, you sit up with Agurne and help keep watch.”

  “Do we need to help you get in, Papa?” asked Flower dutifully.

  “No, I’m going to walk. I might have to fight in a hurry, and it takes too much effort to get in and out of that gods-cursed thing.”

  Flower gave him a look that had way too much fear in it and said, “But you look so tired! Will you be okay?”

  Androkles scowled, trying to look annoyed when that’s not what he felt. Poor kit. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse, and I’ve been worse.”

  The boy considered that for a moment, his white ears twitching. “Maybe, but you’ve never been so old.”

  Agurne cackled loudly at that, and Flower put on a little smile like he’d meant it as a joke. Androkles tried to fight his own grin down, but lost. The humor seemed to rejuvenate him, just a tiny bit. And only for a moment; just until he heard the things howling in the woods, still coming.

  Androkles tried to come up with a good retort, but everything felt like it might cut a little too deep for his tender kitten. I’m not too old to get a better son, you rat. Or maybe, If so, it’s because I’ve been aging at twice the normal rate since I found you. No, something about a milk-fed babe?

  Before he could find a good one, Flower said, “Then can I walk too? I’ll… I can hold your spear.”

  “You hate walking.”

  Flower just looked up at him, his pale little face fraught with emotions he was trying to hide. Then he reached up and grabbed the spear, gently pulling it out of Androkles’ grip. Androkles watched his son’s face harden with determination as the boy steeled himself for the task.

  “You know what? Carrying anything at all hurts my ribs. Just stay close so I can take it in a hurry.”

  “Yes, Papa,” said Flower. He held the spear over his right shoulder, and with his left hand, he reached up and took Androkles’ right. Then he refused to look up, choosing instead to gaze out manfully into the distance, as though nothing unusual was happening.

  Agurne said, “Make sure he doesn’t wander off, or it’s your fault.”

  “Yes, Mama,” said Flower. He stood so close his tail brushed against Androkles’ calves and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

  Once Garbi was comfortably seated on Poppy’s back, sitting with both legs to one side and looking as solid as if she were on a chair, Agurne snapped the reins and the cart creaked into motion. She rode slow enough for Androkles to keep up, and probably would have anyway, since she had to keep an eye out for anything the horses might stumble on, or an incline the cart might slide down, or any of the other innumerable dangers of trying to navigate a vehicle across untamed wilderness. He was glad the path wasn’t too rough, because each step jostled his ribs and they hurt.

  A dishearteningly short time later, the army scouts ran into whatever beasts were coming, back at the camp site. First the men shouted, then the beasts screamed, sounding almost like women or foxes, their howls punctuated with snarls. The men’s shouts became cries of pain and fear, and soon it was over. From the sound of it, a beast or two was put down, but the soldiers were getting the worst of it.

  But soon more soldiers arrived, and the tides began to turn. The whole army wasn’t about to ride up there and crowd the spot, but they could certainly ride up in pairs; it was only a short distance from the road. Not only soldiers, but more beasts and monsters gathered as well. Androkles was sure that he heard more humanoid sounds, as well as the disgusting cries of the man-faced panthers.

  A flash of hope got his heart beating faster. The more the men and monsters fought each other, the longer it would take them to start following the obvious trail leading along the hillside through mud and snow.

  The forest cover broke before they’d crossed so much as a mile and the King’s army spotted them. For a time, they all simply stared at each other across the large, impassible field of thick brush, rocks, and rough ground. The major part of the army had spread out along the road, all the way from the pass down to where Androkles had turned off-road. Not even a half mile away, and they couldn’t come get him directly and everyone knew it. They sure sounded mad about it, though, from what sounds made it all the way across.

  Flower only gripped Androkles’ hand more tightly. “How far do you think we’ll get, Papa?” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

  Androkles glanced down at him, then across the way at the hundreds of soldiers atop their horses. Flower had only given them the briefest of glances, choosing instead to keep scanning for things hiding closer. The boy kept his chin up and his chest out, walking tall. His courageous little kitten, the uncoordinated and gentle-hearted Flower.

  “You make me proud, my son,” said Androkles quietly, a flash of pride and affection filling him. “But we will get all the way to Dikaia, and anything that thinks otherwise will regret it.”

  And it was true—Androkles could feel his killing intent drawing itself back into him to fill the void. It seemed to enter with his breath, to soak in through his skin, or up from the ground into his feet. And unlike before, it circled all throughout him now. The blockage of miasma over his heart was completely gone. What that might mean in a fight, he couldn’t say quite yet; but one thing was sure—he didn’t feel any weaker. Just very, very sore.

  Another quarter mile and they were back in the trees again, and a quarter mile after that, on a muddy pass between two hills. The inclines all ran together, leaving Agurne with fewer and fewer places to try and drive the cart, and it was slowing them down. They all felt it.

  They felt the enemies behind them, barely heard, creeping ever closer. The slow pace loomed over them like a wing of carrion birds.

  Not much farther and the hills began to roll upward more steeply as they weaved into mountains. The terrain here was mostly clear of vegetation, a muddy dirt-wash where rain runoff came down off the heights and flooded the area below.

  Androkles saw the cart start to slide sideways before Agurne could call out to him. In a rush, he let go of Flower’s hand and jumped over to grab the side, hoping to keep it stable long enough for the horses to pull it to better ground.

  But the screaming pain in his broken left ribs made his arms tremble and weaken, and he nearly lost his grip. As it was, he couldn’t pull it back like he needed to, and for a long, perilous moment, Agurne stood at the driver’s bench and screamed at the horses to pull.

  The wheels slipped farther sideways, inch by inch, even as the cart drove forward. Almost! he yelled in his mind. Just get onto the grass there!

  The horse on the right side stumbled and slid, then fell to its knees and struggled to get up. With the sudden loss of power, the cart slid backwards as well as sideways, and Androkles had to jump out of the way as it nearly rolled back over him.

  An instant later, the cart upended itself and toppled sideways, tossing everything into the shallow snow and thick mud. The horses screamed, and Agurne leaped off and darted forward just in time not to get crushed as the horse on the right got tangled up and driven into the ground.

  Everyone heard the pop of its legs breaking.

  Garbi started a slow-building hopeless cry, and soon hugged the neck of her stag and wept. Flower stared ashen-faced at the mess, still holding the spear and looking like the life might just fly up out of him at any moment.

  Androkles darted forward and helped Agurne to her feet. When the cart had tipped, it had spun on the shaft, leaving the yoke upright. The horse on the left was miraculously uninjured, but the one on the right was beyond hope, crying in pain and unable to move. Androkles retrieved his spear and stabbed where he thought its heart was, over and over until it died. No reason to let it suffer, and plenty of reasons not to let it suffer loudly when he was trying to get away.

  There was no time to waste, no time to dwell on how fast their fates had just turned. “Agurne, get the good horse undone from the harness. Garbi, get down. Garbi! Get down. Flower, Garbi, here’s the list. We get two blankets. One bag of meal. The sparker. The water skins. The hatchet. One knife. One bear skin. My silver. The horse carries some. Poppy carries some. We carry the rest on our shoulders. Then we get moving. Go!”

  Everything went quickly, despite shaky hands and hearts. Agurne put three blankets over the horse along with two bags of meal instead of one, but she probably knew better than him what it could carry. The children took the tools and put them in a bag, which Garbi slung over her shoulder. Flower took the little bread-pan, which Androkles had forgotten to mention, and the knife, both of which he carried at his sides like weapons with stern resolve set in his brow.

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  Androkles tied the waterskins together and set them across Poppy’s rough, dirty back, scowling and daring the beast to complain. The stag snorted but gave no other indication it was concerned, the blasted animal. It hardly even deigned to look in his direction.

  Once everything was sorted, Androkles took up the silver and slung the offensively heavy sack over his shoulder, on the side opposite his broken ribs. A whimper escaped his lips, but he disguised it behind a fake cough. It was going to be excruciating, but what else could he do? Put it on an animal that might run off? Drop it into Garbi’s skinny little arms?

  Garbi touched Poppy on the shoulder and the animal knelt for her to get on. She beckoned Flower, but he gave it a nervous look and shook his head.

  “I’ll walk again,” Flower said, swallowing against a dry throat.

  “No, this time, I want you up there. You need to be able to get away if you have to,” said Androkles, taking the pan. “Put the knife in your belt and climb on.”

  “I’m not going to run, Papa. No matter what happens,” said Flower.

  “I didn’t say anything about fleeing like a coward. I know you wouldn’t. I’m talking about escaping. Get up there.”

  “Come on, Flower. If you hold on to me, you won’t fall. I promise,” said Garbi, holding out her hand. Even in circumstances like this, she had a soft voice and kind face for her poor brother. She knew he had a fear of horses. Deer must fall in the same category.

  “I’m not scared, Garbi,” said Flower somewhat unconvincingly.

  “Of course not, my sweet brother. But I am,” she said, the slightest catch of emotion in her voice. She fixed her powerfully feminine stare on him, her large blue eyes shining from beneath wild locks of her wheat-golden hair, her face challenging and pleading at the same time. By the gods, who could resist that? Did she have any idea how much trouble she was going to be when she got older?

  Deciding that riding was now an appropriately masculine thing to do and he was running out of excuses, Flower reluctantly climbed up on the beast and hugged his arms around Garbi’s torso. To his credit, he did a good job hiding how nervous he was. Once he settled his arms around her, he took on the same graceful, weightless quality that she had when riding the beast. He noticed the change, and his eyes widened. Androkles resolved to ask her what the trick was someday. Maybe it would let him ride a horse farther than a mile.

  Ashe the Wolf trotted behind, her yellow eyes wary and unnerving, and that was it—they were off, heading farther up into the mountain hinterlands with no guide and no road. Without the noise of the cart, they had little to listen to except the faint sounds of the army and the occasional bestial screams from any number of directions. What manner of creatures those sounds belonged to, Androkles couldn’t guess.

  It only took him twenty paces to realize that carrying the silver was going to be extremely unpleasant. The bag’s weight meant that he tweaked his broken ribs twice as hard and twice as often, and the rough ground wasn’t helping. The snow was damp and heavy, but only a few inches deep in most places. Elsewhere, the ground was mud or slippery rocks, and each time he stumbled he had to stifle a moan of pain. Had it been his old friends around instead of his children, he would’ve complained the entire time, and been mocked in return. Rough joviality always took the bite out of a wound.

  In fact, Arkoleos had once stubbed his toe after a battle and then cried about it, exhausted beyond all reason by a brutal day of hard combat. Androkles had knelt and anointed the injured toe with the last of his scented oil, kissed it, and declared it sacred. Everyone else around had laughed until tears dripped off their beards. Arkoleos had turned as red as his hair, sat down in embarrassment, and promptly fallen asleep. The poor man awoke to find a garland tied around his ankle, which he’d worn for months afterward.

  Poor Arkoleos. He’d been a gentle soul, which meant that Androkles had teased him mercilessly right up until he tried to swallow an arrow and choked to death on his own blood. Losing him had been like losing the taste of honey. Why was he coming to mind now, of all times? Androkles had important things to worry about.

  Shaking away the nostalgia from his mind, he took a deep breath to refocus and surveyed the scenery. There were any number of ways to go from here, most of them rough, twisty, and uphill. The horse and stag would most likely have no trouble, but he might. And Agurne might. She had grown thinner after the last few months, but she was still plenty plump.

  Actually… “Agurne, turn the horse up that way, along that little rock ridge there, the narrow one. We’ll go that way.”

  “Are you serious?” she complained, but after a moment’s consideration and a quick glance downhill, she sighed and turned uphill.

  “The army won’t be able to—”

  “Yes, I know, you braying mule. The army will have a harder time following us on bad ground. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it,” she said, not even glancing back at him.

  “I see you’re learning from the best,” he said.

  “A child could figure that out.”

  “Perhaps. But I also have another reason I want you to lead us uphill.”

  “Oh? Let’s hear it. Shed your words on us like light from the gods.”

  “It improves my view.”

  Agurne didn’t respond to that, although it looked like she started trying to walk without letting her hips sway. She failed in the attempt.

  His amusement was short-lived, however. The path she took was rough and steep and each step caused a shock of pain in his broken ribs, exacerbated by the heavy silver he carried over the opposite shoulder. Not far uphill and he found himself panting heavily, each breath redoubling the pain and bringing stinging tears to his eyes. He hadn’t realized it until now, but nearly the entire time since being kicked by that gods-cursed horse, he’d been breathing as shallowly as he could. That was no longer possible—the effort of carrying himself and his wealth straight up a mountain left him breathing sucking in air like a runner.

  The worst of it was when he had to cough. He must have been collecting crud in his lungs on top of everything else and all this panting was shaking more and more of it loose. Each cough made every muscle in his torso go rigid, and there was nothing he could do about it. The pain from that was bad enough he saw spots and grew nauseous.

  Only the faint sounds of men’s shouts and horses and weird howls from the wilds kept him going. Surgery had still been worse, he admitted, and he made it through that just fine. The pain of surgery had been about this bad, and just as unrelenting; but the helpless fear that went along with being cut open and played with was what made it truly unbearable. Arkoleos had sat at Androkles side, holding his hand, wiping sweat from his brow and offering words of comfort; if not for him, that arrowhead would still be in there. Or more likely, in a tomb with the rest of him.

  That must be why the man was on Androkles’ mind. Surgery pain.

  Travel had slowed considerably, especially when they were forced to cross slopes of rocks and sand where nothing could grow and hold it all in place. Each step there was a danger. The constant blinding pain in his ribs and the quieter, burning ache in his arms left him feeling weak and womanish, fearful that if he slipped and rolled across the boulders he might shatter and never get back up again.

  Moving ever uphill, they crossed one mountain-face, then another, and came at long last into a high, narrow canyon. The snow here was deeper and mostly unbroken, and hopefully wouldn’t be too deep after they got higher. A hundred paces farther on, he spotted a deer trail leading up and over the canyon ridge, and they could walk on that.

  Not twenty paces up the canyon, Agurne yanked the horse’s reins to stop it, turned around, and said, “How far are we going? Are you looking for somewhere to make a stand, or are we trying to get away?” Her face was flushed and she sounded ornery and tired, justifiably so. “It’s going to be dark soon and the animals need a rest.”

  “The animals need a rest? Just them?” he said, trying to grin. He wasn’t sure if he did; it might have been a grimace instead.

  “Yes, the animals including you, you stupid rod blister. You look like someone stuffed a fat snake into a leather sack and rolled a boulder over it. Except hairier.”

  He stared at her, his mind rubbed too raw by pain to find a good reply.

  “By Mari…” Agurne started, then realized what she said, “and may her grave be pissed on, you’re done, aren’t you? We’re taking a break. No, we’re stopping for the night. Garbi, come here. Hop off Poppy and come here, my darling.”

  The stubborn woman stepped around Androkles, careful not to bump the spear he was leaning on, and lifted Garbi from the flea-ridden stag. “See those pines up there? That big fat one? Go run up there and see if it’s open underneath. Remember how we slept underneath one after Dyana came to rescue us? Go look if that’s a good spot. If not, find one for us.”

  Garbi nodded resolutely, gave a concerned glance at Androkles, and began making her way through the knee-deep snow to go check.

  “Do you want me to go?” asked Flower.

  “No. Come here and help me get this sack of silver off this giant.”

  Agurne stepped around behind Androkles and said, “Ready? Alright, drop it.”

  “I’m not that bad off,” he said, scowling. He let the sack slide off his shoulder and held it out for Agurne to take, trying not to let her see him react to the waves of pain the movement caused him. Gods, he needed to lay down. Riding in the cart, shaky as it was, had been like resting his head on the bosom of Mother Laophilea compared to this.

  Agurne took the sack of silver, but nearly dropped it and had to regrip it to lift it over her shoulder, at great effort. “Gods, Androkles, what were you thinking, carrying this?”

  “I was thinking I should be more sparing with my oaths,” he said. “This one has gotten me into a lot of trouble.”

  “You should have been a lot more sparing with your grunts and moans for the last two hours if you want me to think you’re energetic enough to joke around. Alright, rest your arm on the boy’s shoulder. Flower, stand right there and hold up your father’s arm. It’ll help to take some of the weight off.”

  Androkles said, “I’m fine. I’m sure he’s tired after that ride anyway.”

  Agurne whirled and pointed her finger at him. She said, “He’s tired from watching you stumble, pant, hiss, moan, and suffer since we were all the way down there! Now rest your arm or I’m grabbing that knife and taking it off!”

  “It wasn’t that bad!” he protested.

  “Yes it was,” said Flower, lifting Androkles’ arm by the wrist and placing it on his shoulder. Surprisingly, it cut down quit a bit on the pain that breathing caused him, although part of that might have been that he was breathing easier after starting to catch his breath.

  “I meant it wasn’t that bad for me,” said Androkles.

  “Yes it was,” said Flower.

  They waited for Garbi like that, watching her trudge up through the snow, which got up past her knees by the time she got to the tree. The entire time, Poppy kept a judgmental eye on him, huffing its disapproval every so often. Androkles knew he must look silly, propped up on his spear and a boy like a feeble, doddering old man, and the hateful beast wasn’t about to let him forget it. Androkles relished the day he would finally get to kill and eat it.

  Soon enough Garbi returned and said, “Okay, Mama, it’s big enough underneath for us. And there’s not much snow there, so you can see the needles on the ground, so I think it will be a little warmer.” She spoke as it to Agurne, but her eyes were on him.

  He smiled, a bit more sincerely this time, and told Garbi, “I’m fine. How many times do I have to say it? I’ve been through worse. Recently.”

  No one saw Ashe’s dark-furred head turn suddenly to face something she heard downhill. No one but him.

  Androkles removed his arm from its perch on Flower’s shoulder with a sigh. He took a deep enough breath to get another flash of pain but kept it out of his face. “I feel better after resting a bit. You all go on ahead. I’m going to catch my breath a bit longer, and then make water. A lot of water. I’ll be up in a moment.”

  “I’ll stay, Papa,” said Flower.

  “No, you go help Agurne get our beds ready. We’re going to be sleeping all bundled together since I don’t want a fire tonight.”

  “Because they would see it,” said Flower.

  “Smart boy. Now go on.”

  Ashe fixed her gaze on something downhill, her body growing taut and ready. She sniffed the wind and bared her fangs. No one else saw it, since they were all just watching him.

  “Stop standing around and get moving. We’re not done yet,” he grumbled. “I’ll be right up. Agurne, get ready for a shield as well, in case we need one tonight. And now that I think about it, we’ll need a small cookfire. All we have is meal, so children, get some wood together. Hurry, so we can be done before it gets dark.”

  Agurne gave him a long, considering look. Then she said, “I’ll have that shield ready. Hurry up with your piss and come cook us dinner.”

  He heard movement downhill just out of sight, some slight crunching in the snow. Any further sounds were soon swallowed by his family treading up toward the fat, tall pine.

  Ashe stayed nearby, standing warily just out of reach of his spear, staring downhill. Garbi looked at her but left her behind with feigned nonchalance. As if one wolf could protect him.

  Still, no sooner than his family were out of earshot than he muttered, “All right, wolf, let us see what thinks it can sneak up on Androkles.”