by Crissy Moss
“Go on, girl. What did you need?”
“A…a waterskin, sir.”
“Is that all? Horas, give her yours,” he said, letting go of the drunk.
Horas looked from the captain, to me, and back at the captain.
“Mine, sir?”
“It’s the least you can do for all the trouble you’ve caused her,” the captain said.
The man yanked the waterskin off his waist and threw it at my feet, a sneer curling his lip. I carefully retrieved it, never taking my eyes off him, then clutched it to my breast. I could smell stale wine and ale coming out of it, but it didn’t matter. I needed something to carry water, and stale wine would wash out.
“Now then,” the captain said, “go back to the ship and get some sleep, Horas. I don’t want you out here bothering the young girls anymore.”
“Yes, sir,” he said then slithered back to his cabin.
“I’m sorry if my man upset you,” the captain said, holding his hand out to me.
I looked at his hand, fear getting the better of me. The last time someone in the village had touched me, I had been thrown into a fire to be burned alive. I clutched the stinking waterskin to my breast and took a step back. “It’s no trouble,” I said, hearing the tremble in my own voice. “It was an easy mistake to make. Thank you for the waterskin and…everything.”
I could feel my knees weakening. Perhaps he noticed it, because before I knew it he had gently gathered me up in his arms and placed me on a crate to sit.
“There now, it’s okay,” he said.
It struck me as funny, and I had to stifle a giggle even as I felt my hands trembling.
“Oh? What’s funny?”
“That’s the same voice I use when I’m trying to calm my horse,” I said.
He chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. It looks like you’ve been having a rough day and could use a softer voice.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
I looked up and found warm green eyes looking down at me. Like summer grass waving under a bright blue sky.
“I’m Captain Jules,” he said, holding out his hand again.
I couldn’t ignore him a second time, so I gingerly took his hand in mine. He gave it a small squeeze then a delicate shake.
“Thank you, again,” I said, but I didn’t give him my name. It didn’t matter. We wouldn’t be seeing each other again, but I still didn’t want to risk him knowing about the banished girl from the local village.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, standing. My knees were stronger now, though my heart was beating a steady tattoo against my chest.
He put his hand on my elbow, and I felt a blush warm my cheeks.
“I could see you home,” he said.
“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m already in enough trouble as it is. My father…”
He nodded. It wasn’t difficult to make assumptions in a small village like ours. I knew a few of the young women who had married sailors in the past. There were stories of one father who tried to hack a hole in the side of a ship to keep his daughter in Brefalls. I didn’t know how true it was, but I was sure the captain didn’t, either.
“Well then,” he said, taking a step back and bowing. “I’m sorry, again, for that buffoon. Be sure that he will be punished for his behavior. Take care.”
I nodded, giving him a small smile, then turned and ran from the docks, not daring to look behind me. But I could feel his eyes following me.
Theft
I silently made my way away from the wharf. The captain had done much to calm my nerves after being harassed by the sailor, but I still felt eyes watching me. At the edge of the docks I broke into a run, darting back into the trees at the edge of town and heading south.
I ran past the far row of houses. I kept running, my legs beginning to burn and my chest screaming at me for air, but I couldn’t stop. Not until I couldn’t see the wharf beyond the trees, couldn’t hear the lap of water on shore or the men calling to one another on the dock. Couldn’t feel the embarrassment burning my skin as I thought of begging for a mere waterskin.
I ran and felt the stresses of the last few days melting away. Fear, hatred, despair, and sadness, their memories lost as I gasped for air. My muscle searing, feet jarring every time they slammed down on the ground.
I kept running until I could no longer see the shipyard. No longer hear the men working on the dock. No longer smell the wet mist of the river or the cooking fires from the village hearths. I ran until I was deep in the woods and the darkness safely hid me from everyone around.
Coming to a stop, I took long gasping breaths, trying to suck in as much air as I could, my stomach clenching, but there was nothing in it to release. A stitch in my side ached, the pain lancing through the fog of fear to bring me back to my senses.
The fire lifted from my muscles, and my lungs began to clear. With it came a clarity.
I knew this place.
As a child, I’d played under the same trees, swinging from the lower branches and gathering fallen feathers from the nesting birds. I was home.
Or rather, I was in the place I use to call home. It felt strange and alien, less welcoming than it once had been. A darkness hung in the branches that once had been filled with sunlight and warmth.
Moving into the clearing just beyond the grove, I could see the dim outline of my home. A candle burned in my old window. Beyond the house sat the dark outline of a shed where Gracy would be waiting for her evening brushing. It was easy to work my way around to the far side of the house, using the cover of darkness to hide me from anyone inside. At least I hoped I was hidden. Although I knew all the stories of stealthy rogues slipping in through windows, I had no idea what I was doing. But I did know the yard. I’d been walking through that grassy patch my entire life. I knew every branch, every root, every hole in the dirt path. And even on a moonless night I was able to make my way to Gracy’s stall without tripping over anything.
Gracy must have caught scent of me as I got near because I heard her snorting inside the stall.
“Shhh, Gracy. Keep it down, would you?”
Maybe she didn’t understand me, but she could read my tone of voice. It must have been enough because she quieted down almost immediately.
I worked open the latch and swung the door open just wide enough to slip inside. As soon as I let her out, there would be no turning back, so I needed everything to be set in place before that.
I quickly worked to throw on saddlebags, a blanket, and a harness. The saddle wouldn’t be as useful, so I left it behind. We needed to travel quick and light, and once we got far enough away I would be walking. But we would need grain, which wasn’t light. It didn’t matter, though—Gracy would have to eat. I could supplement her grain with grass for a while, stretching out what little we could take, but without the grain Gracy wouldn’t make it over the mountain.
I filled both saddlebags with as much grain as I could. I grabbed a second bag and shoved the waterskins, small pot, and Gracy’s brush inside. There were also two small bags of hardtack on a shelf above the feed. I had been keeping it there for days when I knew it was best to avoid my father, and now seemed a perfect time to use it.
Everything together, I gave Gracy a final pat and leaned against her flank.
“Gracy, I hope you understand,” I whispered. “This won’t be easy, but at least with you I’ll have a better chance.”
I patted her flank again then turned toward the gate.
The next few moments happened so quickly that I barely had a moment to think about it. I pushed open the gate then swung up onto Gracy's back. A second later, we were out the gate and riding across the yard.
A flicker of shadow let me know that we hadn't gone unnoticed, and before we could get cover in the forest the front door swung open. My father stood in the doorway, silhouetted in flickering firelight. For one brutal moment, we stared at one another across the small yard, then his jaw dropped open and a scream o
f utter rage echoed across the field.
I dug my heels into Gracy’s flank, and she gave a loud whinny as her hooves tore into the ground. Dirt and mud flew up around us, the screams behind us starting to fade away.
But I had another problem. We were running directly to the center of town.
The clatter of hooves and Gracy’s cries were enough to have people coming out of their homes. I saw faces, heard whispers and more shouts as we moved. Gracy’s hooves hit cobblestone as a trio of men emerged from the inn, their mouths dropping open in shock. I reined her in just in time to stop her going over the railing then managed to pull her to the side.
“Sybel!”
I looked over my shoulder and saw James pushing between the men on the inn’s porch.
“Sybel, wait!” he shouted.
I didn’t wait any longer. I dug my heels into Gracy’s side again and started her down the main road. Her hooves clattered against the stones, pushing us faster down the lane. She ran through the center of the village, the alarm ringing out around us. I could feel their eyes on us, but I didn’t dare turn around.
We hit the far north of town and dashed out between two buildings and into the forest.
I let Gracy slow to a trot, trying to keep her on the path as long as I could. The path was relatively clean of debris so she wouldn’t twist her ankle if we were careful, but it was dark beneath the canopy.
They were taking up the chase. I could hear their horses and the stomp of boots on the ground. They were calling my name.
What would they do with me if they caught us?
I could hear the clomp of boots on dirt and the whinny of a horse in the distance. My heart was pounding so hard in my ears that it drowned out most of it. Beneath me the chuff and stamp of Gracy drowned out the rest.
I pushed her harder than I should have. I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t let up on the reins, or keep my heels out of her sides. My fear was enough to send her into a spiral of fear all her own.
Worse, it was night, and I don’t know how we missed every hole or root that could have tripped Gracy up, or broken her leg, but we did.
We rode until my thighs hurt and Gracy’s sides were heaving. We rode until the lights of the town lay far below, a distant blot of yellow on the horizon. We ran until the white birch of the lakeside gave way to the conifers and saplings of the mountains. Only then, with the sound of our pursuit long gone, did I let up on the reins and let Gracy slow.
I wagered on getting our tracks lost amid the deep night of the forest; it was the only way we could get away. Gracy wasn’t a young foal, after all, and some of the men in town were accomplished trackers. I hoped they weren’t as interested in catching a banished girl as they were a stag, but I still had to do everything I could to hide us.
I pushed Gracy deeper into the woods, letting her slow her gate till she was going at a walk. The shadows lengthened, the path disappearing into the thick undergrowth.
I slipped from Gracy’s back and pulled her reins over her head, walking in front of her to find the path. I’d rather be the one to trip over roots and holes in the ground than her.
I didn’t let her stop for another hour, letting her walk off the adrenalin that both of us had been fleeing with, and slowly picking our way through the forest.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, with the moon high above us, I found a small clearing with a large patch of grass and tethered Gracy to a nearby tree. Only then, with her safely tethered and the town far to the south of us, did I finally sink to the ground with my blanket wrapped around me. Sleep claimed me seconds later.
Pass
Morning came before I was quite ready. The sun’s rosy glow crested over the mountains and woke me from the deepest sleep I’d managed since the night of my mother's death.
My body was sore, my thighs burning, but I could hear Gracy clattering around just beyond the tree, her lead still dragging along the ground.
I did it. I had Gracy, and that meant I had a chance. Not only Gracy but three waterskins, a small pot, and a long knife. All of them would be quite useful during my journey no matter how far I made it.
I got up and stretched, realizing with some relief that my body didn’t feel as sore as it had on the nights before. I could move easier, my neck turning without pain. Perhaps I was getting more accustomed to sleeping on the ground. Then again, it could have been the release of a mountain of stress now that I had Gracy with me. The fear of crossing the mountains, of being stranded in the snow and ice of winter, had all but melted.
I rolled up my gear—what little there was of it—and slung it over Gracy’s flanks. I laid the woolen blanket across her back.
Riding bareback for long periods of time wouldn’t be good for me or Gracy, so I’d have to switch from riding to walking, giving her and my aching legs time to rest. A necessary accommodation. Even with that liability she could still carry food, water, and the little bits of equipment I had with me and double the miles I could travel each day. I could even craft a basket for her to carry any food I managed to find, which would help both of us stay fed while crossing the mountains.
But having her to talk to, the sound of her hooves clopping across the packed earth, and her soft hair beneath my hands did more to lift my spirits than any other thing. Gracy wasn’t the fastest or strongest horse out there, but I knew her. I’d been there when she was foaled, I’d watched her take her first steps, I’d fed and brushed her every night. That connection was worth more to me than her ability to be a pack animal.
***
Making a fishing pole and catching fish hadn’t been as easy as I thought it would be. I could make a barb from a twig with a few careful cuts of a knife, but the hook I made was only suitable for large bottom-dwelling fish that couldn’t see well in the murky depths of a lake. The mountain rivers ran cleaner, and all the fish were quick to avoid any line I tossed out.
I gave up that pursuit after half a day, leaving the useless pole and vine near the stream.
I did manage to find some small crustaceans in pools at the river's edge. The crayfish weren’t large, but they did give me something other than berries and hardtack to eat. I boiled up a dozen of the small creatures with a few leaves, giving a tangy bite to them.
Small comforts on the trail—that’s all I could ask for.
Gracy and I made our way up the ever-winding trail, the edges getting steeper and the trees thinner. Beech and oak gave way to pine and other evergreen saplings clinging to bits of dirt nestled between large rocks, their trunks bitter and twisted against the cold of winter.
With the thinning tree lines came less grazing for Gracy. I had to supplement what she could forage with the bag of grain. The nearby streams became farther apart, and we had to forage farther for that as well.
For a week, we traveled like this. Sleeping out in the open. Waking early to gather what little I could to go with the hardtack. Drinking from the streams we passed. I brushed Gracy down each night and nestled into my blanket, happier with the company. And we were always moving upward.
As we neared the upper reaches of the mountain pass, I began to wonder about the wisdom of stealing her. Yes, I had a companion and yes, she helped by carrying extra food and water for both of us, but was she really making the passage faster? Or would I have been better off carrying my own food and supplies?
I did manage to gather several bundles of long grasses for her, and they now sat upon her back. But they, along with the grain, were running low. So was the water, and there were fewer streams this high in the mountains.
It no longer mattered if stealing Gracy had been a good idea. She was here, and I couldn’t really set her loose on the mountain. We’d stick it out together.
Late on the seventh day, we crested another rise, passing between two great walls of stone. I stumbled through beside Gracy, hoping to see the path beginning its long road down the far side—and was met with another path leading up yet another cliff. Another crest, another small mount
ain to climb. It felt like there was no end to the mountains.
I heaved a sigh, leaning against Gracy’s side and patting her.
“We’ll stay here for the night, girl. I don’t have the heart to go on anymore.”
Gracy gave me an unconvinced snort, twitching her ears at me.
“I know, I know,” I said, patting her flank. “There’s still daylight. But where else are we going to go?”
She flicked an ear again, turning away from me. I scratched the back of her ear, but there was nothing to say. I knew we should keep pressing forward, but I couldn’t go another step.
To add insult to injury, a light mist began to fall. I looked up into the heavens, cursing my luck. We were on a mountainside with nothing but rock around us, nowhere to take shelter, and now it decided to rain?
With the rain, it would be impossible to light a fire, which meant cold hardtack for me and dry grain for Gracy.
I found the driest place I could. A small alcove against the rock wall where a slight overhang protected me. It wasn’t much, but it did shelter me from the worst of the rain.
After eating a handful of my supplies and making sure Gracy had a bag of feed, I hobbled her. There wasn’t anywhere for her to go, but I still tied a lead to her bridle and tied the other end to a rock as far from the cliff edge as possible.
With as much done as possible, I settled down against the wall of the mountain pass, trying to find as much shelter from the rain as possible, and fell into a troubled sleep.
***
The sound hit me first.
I woke to lightning flashing across the sky. The crack of thunder not far behind. I could feel the rumble in my chest, hitting mere seconds after each flash. And it was getting closer.
There was nowhere to hide from the impending deluge. Gracy started whining, throwing her main back and forth as she stomped about, just as worried as I was.
“It’s okay, Gracy,” I said, patting her withers. “We’ll find some shelter. I hope.”