The Glass Arrow(93)

“Why’s he got this?” I ask. “I thought Drivers were supposed to look out for each other. You said they were supposed to look out for each other!”

He snatches the paper back and stuffs it into his pocket.

“I think … he thought he was,” Kiran says, muttering curses under his breath. “He must have remembered you from the Garden. He saw me with you once, questioned me for days about it. I never told him who you were. When he saw us in the city, he must have thought I broke the rules.” His hands are latched behind his neck.

In my mind I can see it: Aran pulling my poster off the wall, taking it to the Trackers.

“He meant to have you killed,” I say. “For stealing me.”

Kiran’s expression is grim. I look down at Aran again, but any remorse I might have felt for him is gone. He nearly got us killed. He might yet.

“We have to hide the bodies,” I say. We have only a short time left before more Trackers come after us.

He nods. “I’ll do it.”

I shake my head. “It’ll be faster if I help.” I look to Daphne, but she doesn’t need me to say the words.

“I’ll find them,” she says.

“Keep going until you hit the river,” says Kiran. “We’ll catch up with you.”

She goes, taking my hope with her.

*

IT’S SICKENING, BUT WE succeed in shoving Aran’s body beneath an overgrown manzanita bush. The branches grab at his clothes, but eventually we’ve finished the job. Kiran doesn’t say anything, but I wonder if he wants to. My people bury the dead; to leave him like this is the ultimate punishment. If his soul is not sung on it will stay here, wandering, hopeless for another life.

We don’t have time to linger. There’s one more body in the dark nearby that we have to find, not to mention whoever was riding the horse before Lorcan.

“Have you seen Brax?” I ask, knowing what Kiran’s answer will be.

He shakes his head.

My chest is hurting, and as we search through the dark for the other Tracker, I look for any flash of silver.

“We’ll split up,” says Kiran. “Stay close. We don’t find him soon, we’re moving on.”

I couldn’t agree more.

It’s impossible to find anything the forest means to keep hidden. The roots of the trees trip me as I venture further into the shadows, but the body is nowhere. I search around every boulder, trying to remember where that yelp came from, just as I’m trying to remember where the Tracker fell.

I tell myself Brax is fine. When I threw the rock at him in the city he scrammed, and that’s just what he’s doing now. Sulking. I’ll probably pay for it later.

Finally, I find the Tracker. He’s already halfway under a felled trunk, and his arms are beneath him, so bent they’ve got to be broken. I wish more than anything Kiran was with me now. I swallow down the burning bile in my throat and refuse to look at the dead Tracker’s face as I get low and shove him into the brush. In a hurry, I grab some nearby branches and cover him up. It’s good enough for now.

“Kiran!” I call, as loud as I dare.

First there’s nothing, then the crunching steps of someone on foot. He’s moving slowly, and for an instant I consider that maybe it’s not him—Kiran would be in more of a hurry. But then he makes his way into a small clearing, back bowed to support the weight of the heavy load that heaps over his arms.

My stomach twists so hard I almost double over. It’s small enough to be Daphne or one of the twins. I rush towards them, stopping short when I catch a flash of silver in the starlight.

“Brax?”

Kiran meets me in the middle of the clearing and lays the wolf’s long body on the ground. He’s gentle, too gentle, like he’s been carrying a sick child.

I fall to my knees, running my hands over Brax’s long face, lifting his head. His neck is limp. I shake his legs, but he doesn’t pull them back. His silver coat is soiled by slick blood, gleaming black in the moonlight.

“Come on, Brax,” I say, quietly. “Come on, boy.”

I hear a rustle in the trees above us. The flapping of a bird’s wings. I need to concentrate if I’m going to help him, but sounds are too loud and my fear is too sharp.

“Sh-shepherd’s purse. It’ll stop the bleeding. You have to find it. It l-looks like a dandelion.” I use my shirt to stop the blood. “Kiran, please!” I shout when he doesn’t move.

He stands. I think he means to go find the flower, and the twisting in my stomach loosens just a little, but he doesn’t. He crouches behind me, and his arms slowly wrap around my body to pry me away.

“No!” I bury my fingers in Brax’s coat. He’s still warm.

I just need a little more time. I can stop the bleeding. I can heal Brax. I saved Kiran from the wire wound, I can do this. And then we’ll be gone, all of us, safely hidden in the mountains.

“Let me go.”

Kiran’s grip is unyielding. One arm around my shoulders. The other around my waist. I writhe against him. He falls back onto his heels, rocking steadily.

“We don’t have time, Kiran!”

Brax is still.

I see him as a puppy. Hear his proud little bark. He watches over me in the solitary yard. My head rests on his shoulder while we sleep. He keeps me alive so I have to keep him alive.