by Alia Hess
“Ha!” Merriweather slapped his knee and grinned.
A hard lump rose in Owl’s throat, and she spit the pear slice in Bart’s face. “Go to Hell.”
Bart grimaced, wiping juice from his cheek. He gripped Owl by the arm and yanked her up. “Then we’ll do this the not-nice way. And if you bite me, you lose your teeth.”
“No!” Owl thrashed, heart in her throat, kicking dirt into the fire and sending embers skyward. His grip tightened as he dragged her away from the campfire. Her boots left frantic zigzags in the dirt, and Dusty and Jon’kin looked on, fear plastered to their faces.
This can’t happen. God, Gentlewave, where are you? We’re really not going to make it out of this. I was a fool to hold onto any hope otherwise.
“Let go of her, Bart.” Merriweather popped a pear slice in his mouth.
Bart paused and scowled. “What? Why?”
“Did I tell you yet that you’ve done a good job? Good enough to have Snarky? I don’t recall telling you that, Bart.”
“I hauled that fucking cart all day—”
“Put her down, Bart!”
Owl flinched, her gaze jumping between the merchant and the guard. Merriweather’s eye twitched, then he smiled and pushed back his blond hair.
Bart loosened his grip, and Owl hesitantly walked back to the campfire and sank onto a rock, unsure who to be more afraid of.
“That’s better. Snarky, you want another pear?” Merriweather held a slice out to her.
Her stomach rumbled, but she turned her head.
“No? Honestly, thinking about Bart’s nether region makes me lose my appetite too. How ‘bout you, Mouthy?”
Dusty opened her mouth as Merriweather offered her the slice, then it slipped from his fingers and fell into the dirt.
“Aww. Damn. Sorry about that.”
Dusty scowled, then grunted as she bent down and retrieved the pear. She didn’t even bother to wipe off the dirt before stuffing it in her mouth.
Merriweather’s eyes widened and he giggled.
Owl bit her lip. Why hadn’t she been able to steal more food for Dusty? She could have been craftier, quicker, or more vigilant. Surely she could have found another opportunity to pocket more jerky.
The merchant pulled out another slice and tossed it in the dirt at Dusty’s feet. This one was even dirtier than the last, and Dusty ate it without hesitation.
“Stop that.” Fire burned in Owl’s chest as she stared at Merriweather. If only she could do something. If only she could claw out the merchant’s other eye, or hit him with a log from the fire. But Brandy and Bart were sitting across from her, and her wrists were taped together. Merriweather hadn’t found his pistol among all the wagon wreckage, but Bart still had his rifle.
“Mouthy, I’ll give you two clean slices if you lick the dust off my boot.”
Dusty’s mouth wavered as she stared at the jar of pears. “Fine.”
“Dusty, no! Don’t do that.” Owl scooted closer to her. “Don’t play his game.”
“I’m hungry, Owl. Besides, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve done as a trade. Far from it. Gimme your boot, wolfman.”
A huge grin spread across Merriweather’s face. He propped his foot on Dusty’s knee. She scowled, trembling, then licked the top of his shoe. Merriweather crowed with laughter and sat back. He dug two pear slices from the jar and pushed them into Dusty’s mouth.
“Mouthy, I’ll give you three slices if you’ll—”
Owl kicked a log laying in the fire, shooting cinders into the wolfman’s lap. He jumped up, brushing off his pants and nearly knocking over the jar of pears. “Dammit! Brandy, put some tape around that bitch’s ankles, will ya?”
Brandy ripped off a long strip of tape and grabbed Owl’s legs. Owl struggled, but Brandy grimaced and held firm until Owl’s legs were tightly bound.
Merriweather narrowed his gaze. “Snarky, lick my boot and I’ll give Mouthy a pear.”
Owl’s chest heaved, her eyes tearing up. “No.”
“Come on, Snarky. I’ve still got a dirty boot and Mouthy’s hungry. Look at her.”
Owl kept her eyes locked onto Merriweather’s.
“I said look at her!” Merriweather gripped Owl’s jaw and jerked her face toward Dusty. Dusty quivered, her cheeks wet and eyes wide. “Look at your friend. She’s pregnant and tired and hungry. Hasn’t eaten anything in about two days.”
It’s my fault she’s so hungry. I promised Gentlewave I’d keep an eye on her. I fucked that up big time.
“Do you love your friend, Snarky?”
Owl’s lip trembled. “Yes.”
“Then lick my boot. I’m not really asking that much, am I? Mouthy did it. I’d ask Jon’kin to do it, but he’d probably bite off my toe with his pointy teeth.”
Bart stood. “I’m going to take a leak.” He left the campfire, heading for the trees.
Tears rolled down Dusty’s cheeks as she stared at the jar of pears. “I’ll do it again, wolfman. Gimme your other boot. For two more slices, okay? And then—and then if you’ve got something else you want me to—”
“I’m glad you’re so eager to lick things of mine, but it’s Snarky’s turn. Snarky, you lick my boot and I’ll give your poor, hungry, pregnant friend a pear slice. Look at her—she’s begging for it.”
Dusty wiped her face on her coat, bits of dirt clinging to the corners of her lips. She turned her pleading eyes to Owl.
I don’t want to play his game, but if I do, he’ll give her food. I’d be helping.
Owl stared at the merchant’s dirty, scuffed boots, caked in mud, gnats, and bits of dried marsh plants. He grinned at her, his blue glass eye slightly askew.
Dusty needs me.
Owl nodded and Merriweather propped his boot on her knee. She drew in a deep breath, staring at his filthy shoe, then froze, vomit rising in her throat. It wasn’t even about licking something dirty. It wasn’t about the boot at all.
Her chest hitched and she let out a loud sob. “I can’t.”
Merriweather huffed. “You lick my boot right now or I’ll split Mouthy’s lip open. Don’t think I won’t.”
Owl’s breath caught. She bent down, tears distorting her vision, then licked the top of his shoe. She gagged and wiped her mouth.
Merriweather clapped vigorously, laughing. “I knew you could do it! Two clean boots for Max.”
Owl bawled, hot tears running down her face. This guy is just going to have his fun with us until he gets bored and kills us. She sobbed harder and it was almost loud enough to drown out Merriweather’s laughter. Almost. She wiped her snotty nose on her coat, then glowered at the merchant.
“You’re a psycho. If I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d turn your face inside out worse than I already did.”
Merriweather grinned and stroked his moustache. “Snarky, I’m positively shaking in my clean boots.”
“I hope when you get to Hell, there’s a—”
A whine pierced the air, then Owl winced as something hot splattered her face. Merriweather stared at her, wide-eyed, an arrow through his neck. He blinked and tried to speak. A bubble of blood popped on his lips, then a red stream ran from his mouth. He stood on unsteady feet, and took several lurching steps for the trees. Another whine cut through the stunned silence, and two more arrows found their target in Merriweather’s back, the wooden shafts quivering. He fell on his face in the dirt.
Brandy screamed, launching off her rock and heading for the trees. Jon’kin let out a whoop and was answered by a louder one. Dorhn’li.
Owl’s heart sang, and she bawled, clutching Dusty. Suddenly, arms were around her, hugging and peeling the duct tape from her wrists and ankles.
Gentlewave threw his arms around them. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. We’ve been searching for days. Are you okay?”
Owl whimpered in response, too choked with the tangle of her failure and relief to say anything.
Dusty said, “Wait, what about Bart? The guard. God, he could—”
“He’s dead.” Gentlewave was stone-faced. “I strangled him with a wire.”
Without her fear to hold her up, Owl sank to the ground. Mothwing helped her up as Dorhn’li pulled the last of the tape from Jon’kin.
Dorhn’li grinned, his black teeth glowing orange in the firelight. “Got’m, Owl. Got’a wolfman.”
Fresh tears ran down Owl’s face and she nodded.
Jon’kin kicked Merriweather’s corpse and whooped.
“He go’ broke face, yeah? Ya do? Or pre’pinkcoat?” Dorhn’li asked.
“Owl did it.” Dusty gave Dorhn’li a hug. “Owl had all kinds of good ideas. It was great. She got the idea to destroy his wagon, beat his face in with a metal bar, scared ‘em with talk about Sasha’s cult, left broken branches and plants for you guys to track, and even managed to steal some jerky for me to eat.”
Owl’s voice came out watery and feeble. “But all of those plans backf—”
“Great job, Owl!” Mothwing crushed her in a hug. “I don’t know how you stayed level-headed enough for that. I would have been a bawling mess the whole time.”
Owl’s lip quivered. “I didn’t do good. I didn’t—”
“Of course you did, sis.” Dusty hugged her. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
Gentlewave frowned, looking around the clearing. “I really don’t want to ask this, but where’s Auth’ni?”
“Dead,” Jon’kin replied. “Wolfmen kill’m. Sara too.”
Mothwing stiffened. “But… Wait. Then how are we supposed to…”
Gentlewave’s nostrils flared. “So we failed. I don’t know what this means for our mission, then.”
“I don’t know either,” Dusty said. “But there’s nothing we can do about it. After all this crap, I’m ready to just sail our ship straight to that Tam beach and bust Sasha and Corvin out. To hell with it all. We’ve gone through too much—bending over backward for Palesun and his ridiculous demands—for us to go back and have him tell us ‘too bad.’ I’m sorry his son is dead, but that’s not our fault.”
Gentlewave stared into the fire. “We’ll worry about it later. We’ve got over a month of walking ahead of us to figure it out. Let’s find someplace safe to bed down for the night. Do you think we need to worry about that Brandy woman?”
“I doubt it,” Dusty said. “She already took off once. Didn’t seem like she was too loyal to Merriweather, and I’m sure Dorhn’li’s arrows are a good deterrent.”
Dusty still had bits of dirt around her mouth. Owl stared at the jar of pears, her face contorting. She stepped around the fire and kicked Merriweather in the side, but was rewarded with nothing but a dull thud. He needed to feel it. He needed to suffer.
My time to help has passed, and what did I do? Did I protect Dusty? No. I let her eat pears covered in dirt.
Owl kicked him again. “You piece of shit! You should have been the one eating dirt! You should have been the one licking people’s shoes! You piece of shit! You piece of—”
Gentlewave pulled her back. “It’s okay, Owl.”
Owl balled her fists, more curses on her tongue, then sank into Gentlewave’s arms and sobbed. “It’s not okay. If I was stronger, or if I had come up with a better plan, we wouldn’t have been in this situation. I was supposed to look out for her, Gentlewave. I let you down. And you had to see us licking that horrible wolfman’s boots—”
He pulled back and looked in her face. “Owl. You see weakness and failure when you look at yourself? None of us see that in you. You did what you could in an awful situation, and it sounds like you improvised like hell—used the tools at your disposal the best you could. No one expects you to be a superwoman. You’ve been a great addition this whole trip. We’ll figure things out, and everything will be alright. Now why don’t we get out of here, okay?”
“Amen. Let’s go.” Dusty kicked dirt onto the fire, then rifled through the contents of Bart and Merriweather’s bags on the ground. She nodded. “Some good stuff in here. Somebody help me carry them. Might be things we wanna take off their cart too.”
Owl clung to Gentlewave as they left the fire. Dusty eyed her.
“Hey, sis. It’s over. It’s over.”
Owl wiped her face and nodded. Dusty gave her a hug and said, “We’re okay. Everything’s okay now.”
It’s over.
“Give it a break, Sasha. You’ve been at it for days. Have you even slept?” Corvin stood at the open window, favoring his broken leg. He rested his elbows on the sill, shutting his eyes as the breeze ruffled his hair.
Sasha took a sip of cold coffee, then looked at his tablet, zooming the repaired drone past mountain meadows. “Barely. Can’t sleep knowing Dusty is out there with my baby in her belly, chasing after kidnappers.”
“Gentlewave is with them. And one of the Maralti men. Remember when Gentlewave had to get us past that highwaymen bridge, and they shot at us and we had to run all the way to Battlebury?”
“That is not helping. Don’t want nobody to shoot at my baby… Both my babies.”
Denial hadn’t worked. Sasha was able to access a recording of the first drone’s footage before it died, playing the conversation of the Maralti men over and over. Corvin hadn’t heard wrong.
It drove him crazy wondering if Dusty knew she was pregnant before leaving Nis. Was that why she’d been picking fights with him, because she was upset and didn’t want to tell him? But why would she leave, if she knew? Dusty would never put a child in harm’s way—not even an unborn one. She’d never wanted kids, and he hadn’t really either, but if she had known, surely she would have stayed. Poor Dusty, out there without him and unable to tell him their little family was about to get bigger.
The idea of being a father scared him, as though someone had just thrust a ticking bomb into his hands and told him to disable it. Snip the right wire or we all go boom. But no pressure!
He didn’t remember a lot about his own father—just bits and pieces: Dad helping him after he’d crashed on his bike and scraped his knees; Dad yelling at him for smashing plants in Mom’s garden with a plastic baseball bat; Dad buying him cotton candy and ice cream at the carnival, letting him ride a big-kid ride, then cleaning the vomit off the front of his overalls. There were just enough memories of Mom and Dad to make him ache inside when he thought about their absence.
He would be a good dad too, however one did that, exactly. His first order of business was finding the retrieval party, and he would be damned if he fell asleep when he could be searching.
He took a large gulp of coffee.
“I wish that other drone still worked,” Corvin said. “You could have taught me how to fly it, and I could be searching too.”
Sasha’s eyelids sagged, his chin hitting his chest. He jerked up. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Take a nap. It’s not going to hurt anything.”
His ass had fallen asleep ahead of him in the hard wooden chair, but if he sat in bed, Sasha knew there would be no hope for him staying awake.
With his eyes unfocused and full of sand, he almost missed the strange animals prancing down the broken highway to the northwest. He rubbed his face and frowned, zooming closer. They looked like gazelles, or antelope maybe, but bigger, with long, spiralling horns. People were riding them. One had on a bright pink coat.
“I found her!” Sasha launched out of his chair, knocking it over.
“You did?” Corvin hobbled to the table. “What are they riding on?”
“Don’t know, but it’s them for sure.” He laughed and gave Corvin a squeeze, then sped the drone toward the group. Sasha turned on the microphone, ready to shout his joy to his beloved.
But what if doing that startled those animals and they bucked everyone off? That would be a fine start to his role as father.
He kept stealth mode on and slowed the drone. The animals’ hooves clacked against the asphalt as they trotted down the road. Owl doubled up with Mothwing, holding tightly to his waist, while Dusty sat in fro
nt of Gentlewave. Two Maralti rode the third animal—a younger man and a boy.
Yellow and brown bruises colored one of Dusty’s eyes and clustered around her nose. Sasha had seen those particular patterns on himself enough times to know that meant someone had punched his beautiful wife. She stared ahead, the hood of his pink coat covering her auburn hair like a neon halo.
He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and whispered into the tablet. “Dusty.”
She whipped her head around. “Sasha? I heard Sasha!”
Gentlewave frowned, cocking his head.
“I don’t want to scare your antilopa, baby, and make it run away, so I am whispering. I am flying stealth drone. I finally find you.” He moaned. “Oh, my beautiful Dusty.”
She bounced up and down, her hands to her mouth. “I can’t believe it’s really you! I’ve missed you so much!”
“What happened to you? Who done that to your face?”
Dusty scowled. Oh, how Sasha had missed that expression. “A dead man. Gentlewave took care of him. The other asshole is dead too.”
Gentlewave pulled on the reins of his animal, slowing to a stop. The others followed suit, dismounting and leading them off the road. Sasha deactivated stealth mode and turned on his screen’s camera.
Dusty’s eyes welled with tears as she focused on the drone. “Sasha!” She planted a kiss on the screen.
“I’m here too.” Corvin smiled.
She laughed. “Hi, Corvin. How did you guys smuggle a drone into the detainment center? And where did it come from?”
“We aren’t in the detainment center,” Corvin replied. “Long story.”
Mothwing and the Maralti man tethered the animals, who seemed happy about the break, guffawing and sticking out purple tongues.
Owl peered into the screen, her chocolate eyes big and sad. “I’ve missed your faces. But you guys look awful. Do you have food?”
“Yes. We’re being well taken care of at the moment,” Corvin said, “but I think it’ll be a while before our faces fill out again. And Sasha’s got those bags under his eyes because he’s been searching for you guys non-stop for like, four days, without sleep.”
Gentlewave looked around. “I think this would be an okay place to take a break. Let’s get something to eat and catch up.”