We leave it at that. While they close the arms dump an say farewell to Slim, I hurry into the trees with a pile of raggedy clothes. Slim’s right. Bram’s right. Lugh’s right. I ain’t nuthin but wrong. About everythin an everybody. I ain’t no judge of character. No judge of my own heart. I’m prideful, arrogant an stubborn.
I rip the buttons open on DeMalo’s hateful dress. I’m about to take it off when suddenly Tommo’s here, his dark eyes intent.I jump, my heart racin, cover myself up agin. Tommo! Don’t sneak up on me like that, I says.
I gotta talk to you, he says.
Not now, I says, this ain’t the time. Later, I promise.
He looks at me a moment. You cain’t put me off ferever, he says. Then he nods. Later, he says.
When he’s outta sight, I haul off the dress an scrabble at the roots of the tree. I stuff it deep into the earth. Bury it. Bury him.
Jest what I need, more trouble. Trouble. Ohmigawd, what if I do have a baby in me? No no, don’t think about it. If I don’t think about it, it cain’t be so. Where’s that Nero got to? As if I don’t have enough to worry about.
Saba? It’s Molly. Yer talkin to yerself, she says. Here. Let me give you a hand.
I jump to my feet. No, it’s okay, I—
But she’s already pullin a raggedy shift over my head. Her eyes flick over the girly skivvies I’m wearin, the boots.
Stand still, she says. She starts to cover up my birthmoon tattoo, dippin her baby finger in two little pots of paste, brown an white, mixin on the back of her hand till she gits the colour right to match my skin. Where you bin? she says. Where’d you git the fancy gear?
It’s Cassie’s. I tell the lie agin. If I tell it often enough, I might even start to believe it.
Fine, she says, keep yer secrets. You smell nice. What is that, juniper?
I dunno, I says.
Okay, that’s covered up. An you look truly wretched in them clothes. You’ll pass. Now . . . She runs a keen eye over me as she rummages in the little bag at her waist. This hair of yers . . . She’s pulled out her comb an started combin an fussin an movin around me. Before I realize, before I can stop her—
Oh! She goes still. She’s seen it. On the back of my neck. My first-time mark. His mouth. His lips.
Above all others, you chose me, Saba. His smell on my skin. His voice in my head. His mark on my body.
She smooths my hair to cover it. There we go, she says. There, now. You look fine.
Tears start at her kindness. I grab her hand, comb an all. Molly, I whisper.
Our eyes meet. Beautiful Molly. So tough, so kind, so sad.
This might not mean much to you right now, she says, but fer what it’s worth, I’ll tell you. Maybe I know it better’n most. Life ain’t black an white. People ain’t neether. Family, friends, lovers. It’s all a lot more complicated. The longer I live, the more I see, the less I know fer sure. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart. So dry yer tears. Whoever he is, he won’t be cryin over you. Men never do. That’s the one thing I do know fer sure. Now, muck up them boots a bit.
She pats my cheek an heads back to th’others. She’s comin! she says.
They’re already headed fer the road by the time I pull myself together. Tommo an Creed lead the horses through the trees, while Bram an Lugh an Ash wrestle the cart along the narrow track. Molly an Maev hang back a bit, waitin fer me.
Ready? says Molly.
Tracker’s tethered to a big tree, on a short rope. Bram decided it’s better that we leave him here. He’s whinin, lookin anxious. This is where we part ways, him an me. I cain’t bear to look at him.
C’mere, sister, says Slim. Give a smelly old man a hug before you go. He hauls me into a awkward one-armed hug. Check my right pocket, he mutters.
I dig into it, outta sight of Maev an Molly. I pull out a tiny brown bottle. The silent enemy, he whispers. It’s called eccinel. One drop in a full cup, a man’ll sleep eight hours. Two drops, he’ll do a whole day, maybe half of the next.
An three? I says.
The longest sleep of all, he says. Use it with a cool head.
I throw my arms around his neck an hug him tight. Thank you, I says. I’m sorry about everythin.
I shall rise agin, never you fear, he says. I seen you fight at Hopetown, heard word of what you did at them other places. You don’t know it, but yer a bit of a legend.
No, I ain’t, I says.
Anyways, he says, when I seen who it was hijackin me, I had this idea you might join us. We’d be able to kick things up an march on to glorious victory. Well . . . I’m jest a foolish old man with romantical notions. I’m honoured to of knowed you. Good luck, m’dear.
An you, Slim, I says.
I give Tracker a last kiss on his head. Molly takes my arm an Slim waves us off. Tracker starts howlin.
I keep lookin back over my shoulder. Till the trees hide ’em from view. Till all that’s left is the sound of Tracker’s distress, ringin among the trees.
I’m next to Ash in the back of the cart. Molly an Maev sit opposite. We’re tied at the ankles an wrists, good enough to pass inspection, loose enough to slip free quick. Creed an Tommo bring up the rear on Prue an Hermes. Lugh an Bram sit tall on the driver’s bench with Bram’s work horse, Ted, in the traces.
We ain’t long on the road, maybe half a league from Bram’s place, when a dot appears on the road behind us. It gits bigger an bigger. Ash leans around me to squint. What is that? she says.
A smile starts to crawl over my face. It’s Tracker, I says. It ain’t long before he catches us up. He’s runnin flat out. Tommo an Creed give him room an he takes a flyin leap into the back of the cart.
What a boy! cries Ash.
He flops on top of our legs an rests his head on my lap. I shake mine as I stroke his ears. The dog that won’t be left behind. When will I learn?
A little bit later, a familiar call has me lookin skywards. It’s Nero, cruisin along above us.
I ain’t seen him fer hours, I says.
He drops down. He’s got the heartstone in his beak. Nero! Come here!
He ignores me an lands on Molly. The furthest he can git from me. He dumps it in her lap.
Well, Nero, hello, whatcha got here? she says. She holds up my heartstone. Did you lose this, Saba?
I give him a death glare. He jibbers at me. Smart-alec crow. That’s what he flew off to find this mornin when he disappeared. It must of washed up down at the rockpool. So, I didn’t imagine him jest outta sight. He’s bin lurkin around all day with it, on purpose waitin till now when everybody’s here.
No, I says. He stole it agin. He’s a thief an a menace an I’m gonna trade him in fer a umberella.
He laughs at me, bobbin up an down. Molly notices the stitches on his breast. She shoots me a quick glance as he takes off agin. Mission accomplished, he settles into a steady pace ahead of us. Molly tosses me the heartstone. I shove it in my pocket.
Scuppered by my gawdamn bird. Not fer the first time. An, if I know him – which I most surely do – not fer the last time neether.
We roll through the warm afternoon. We aim to be in place by curfew. Nightfall. Ready to go. Ready to move. Sadly fer our rear ends, the Cosmic don’t ride no smoother than she did before. Along the dirtpack road we rattle, in an outta the shade of cool, sweet-smellin woodland. Over clear-runnin streams. Past Stewards in their fields who stop what they’re doin to watch us go past.