Brightly Woven(14)

My head snapped back up, the weariness in my limbs and mind suddenly gone. Somewhere in the distance an animal let out a long wail, but it didn’t mask the sound of breaking twigs or labored breathing.

The moon’s full, creamy face gave off more than enough light, yet I saw nothing but the scattered patches of trees around us, just large enough for a man to hide behind.

“North,” I whispered. When he didn’t respond I tried again, this time with a hard shake. “North!”

His head lolled to the side, and I had to check once more to make sure he was still breathing. The sound I’d heard was most likely an animal, but there was no way for me to shake the image of the scarred man in the tavern or the crisp red uniforms of Saldorra’s elite soldiers. It was impossible, though, wasn’t it? For the man with the powder to have followed us all the way into the wilderness—how could he have begun to track us when we had left no footprints behind in our escape from Dellark?

Something touched my back. It lasted no more than a moment, but even half delirious from lack of sleep, I knew I couldn’t have dreamed it. It was a warm pulse through the thin fabric of my dress, there and gone. Then again, and again, and again…like a slow heartbeat.

“North!” I said through gritted teeth, while searching the trees around me. “North!”

There was nowhere for us to hide. I couldn’t lift him into the trees; I could barely climb up into them myself. But we weren’t safe, not when whoever—or whatever—was out here and could hide itself under the cover of leaves.

I was proud of the way my hands didn’t shake or tremble as they slipped under the wizard’s arms. A warm flush seemed to wash through my body, and I was dragging North’s prone form out into the open field, toward the small, trickling creek. I kept my eyes on the trees and my back to the water, but all I could see were the shadows the trees cast, skimming the ground, weaving in and out of one another as if in a game.

I left our bags behind. The rock in my hand would be useless against sword or magic, but it was the only weapon I had. The wind kicked my curls up around my face, but not even its slight push at my back could hide that second pulse against my shoulder.

I dropped the rock onto the soft ground and threw my hands behind me, then turned to see an enormous beetle. It hovered near North’s prone form for a moment, its wings letting off a loud buzz. Its color was the strangest thing about it, a purple so deep I nearly mistook it for black.

“Get off! Go!” I said, waving the beetle off the wizard. It launched itself back up, caught a strong breeze, and disappeared into the night. I laughed then, shaking my head at the thought of being so worked up over such a small thing.

“I’ve completely lost it,” I said, pressing my hands to my face.

I sat beside the wizard until morning, the gray rock still nearby. My dress was uncomfortably damp with the dew, and the morning was cooler than I expected and far quieter. When the sun was finally above us, when the shadows faded into something far less sinister, I was finally brave enough to stand again. North slept on, untouched by the relief I felt when I made out the familiar form of our bags. Everything, even the contents of North’s bag, which had scattered the night before, was in the exact place I had left it. If the intruder had been an animal or a man, he hadn’t been interested in a loom or glass bottles.

I looked around for what else might have fallen from North’s bag, finding a small, nearly empty bottle and a worn-out, leather-bound notebook stuffed with loose sheets of paper and rumpled maps. I took one of the maps in hand as I walked back over to the wizard. The cold wind that whistled through the trees and tall grass tore the frail paper into two neat pieces, and I had to grab them before the wind blew them away completely.

I collapsed in a heap by North’s side, pressing both fists against my eyelids. The exhaustion was back now, worse than before. Every bone in my body screamed for sleep, but my mind was still restless, turning itself in endless circles.

I turned my face toward North, hoping for some sign that he would eventually wake.

“North?” I asked, my voice thick. The muscles in his arms had relaxed, and his face was slack with sleep. He looked as though he was actually resting and would be for some time.

My body seemed to stand again of its own accord. I washed my face in the frigid water of the creek and filled our flasks. It was strange to see water running freely, winding through the countryside with perfect ease.

It was enough to remind me of my morning prayers. I was halfway through the ancient words when I felt something soft brush against my hands. The wind had carried North’s loose blue cloak over to me.

I gathered the rest of the cloaks, separating them to get a better look. There were five in all, including the red one still wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and most were ripped and tattered. I had repaired only the yellow one in Cliffton.

Maybe, I thought, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a few more minutes of quiet.

Some hours later, when the sun was almost directly above us and I was on my third cloak, North sat up suddenly.

“Syd!” he said, on his feet in a moment.

I glanced up from the green cloak. I had liked him much better asleep, tucked away in his silent dreams.

“My name is Sydelle,” I said, snipping off an excess bit of thread. His lips parted slightly, as if surprised to find me sitting nearby. “Syd reminds me of some fat, lazy old man—I knew a Sid, and all he ever did was sit on his mother’s porch and complain about the heat!”