“I’m going with you,” he told me.
I didn’t try to talk him out of it. “You know it’ll be a long, sad trip.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
The survivors of the company had split up while I tended Fade, leaving Rosemere in twos and threes, to return to their homes. Part of me wished I could’ve given them something worthy of their courage, but there were only words, and I had never been skilled with those. So it was best they went before I could ruin whatever good thoughts of me they might carry away.
A boatman took us across with an oddly deferential air, and when I stood to clamber out of the boat, he kissed the back of my hand. I pulled away, eyeing him in abject confusion.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you’re the Huntress,” he said. “And you won the War of the River. You made the territories safe again.”
I hadn’t done so without a lot of blood and pain, many sacrifices from people smarter, braver, and better than me. But I was so flummoxed by his words that I let Gavin drag me out over the side, into the water, and all the way to shore. I cast a look back, but the man was already trimming his sail and turning the little boat back toward the Evergreen Isle.
When Gavin and I returned to the battlefield, it had become a graveyard. Row after row of wooden markers stood neatly commemorating where brave men and women died. I stood for a few seconds, my throat too tight to breathe. The brat’s fingers stole into mine, and I squeezed them. It seemed so wrong that we were here when Stalker wasn’t, when Tully and Thornton were probably buried beneath these fresh black mounds.
“Do you ever wonder why them and not you?” Gavin asked.
“All the time.”
The trade routes were oddly clear. Breaking the horde had driven any straggling elders into hiding, where they would doubtless hunt small game until they died. If they grew bold again, the Uroch would send word. Now and then we saw our allies on the road, going about their business. They wore white armbands and lifted their clawed hands in greeting. I wondered if I would ever get used to that.
So blasted strange.
Gavin and I traveled without trouble; and in the fall, it was easy to find forage—berries and nuts, ripe fruit on wild trees and fat hares lazy from eating all summer long. In that fashion we traveled from town to town carrying our tidings. Gavin stayed with me as I found the families and told them, one by one. In Gaspard, there weren’t many, but the weeping was fierce in Lorraine. We stayed there for two days, telling stories so that grieving relatives could comfort themselves with the knowledge that their loved ones had been heroes. And they were, of course, every last one of them. It didn’t require daring deeds, only the courage to stand when everyone else was running.
In Lorraine, I also visited Stalker’s grave. As promised, the stone marker had been carved with his name, Stalker the Wolf, and I touched the letters with reverent fingertips. Gavin watched me in silence for a few moments.
“Do you miss him?” he asked.
“Every day.”
We won, my friend. I wish you were here to see it.
We went to Otterburn next, and it surprised me a little because I hadn’t expected them to send anyone, ever. The counterman had been so definite about the tithe and their determination not to get involved in the war. But there were fifteen names on my list, men and women who decided they’d rather fight than cower.
“This is an ugly town,” Gavin said, as we approached.
Though I agreed, it wasn’t polite to say so where the residents could hear. I shushed him. People were already gathering; at first I didn’t understand why, but then John Kelley called, “I wondered when you’d get here.”
As he had before, the trader must’ve carried word about my mission. So the people were already braced and waiting. Without further delay, I read out the names, and two women fell to their knees crying. Others comforted them. I was tired of walking, tired of bearing bad tidings, but I still had Winterville before I could return to my family in Soldier’s Pond. Rex, Fade, and Spence should be there by now.
I hoped so, anyway.
“Thank you,” I said, striding through the dispersing crowd to meet the trader. “The only reason we won at the river is because you blackmailed the towns into sending help.”
The trader grinned. “Not just me. Vince Howe and Marlon Bean got in on the action too. We all did some shooting that day. Haven’t felt so alive in years.”
“It was a day to remember all right,” I admitted.
Not just in good ways. But I wouldn’t spoil the moment with my dark memories.
“Where are you headed next?”
“Tomorrow, we’re off to Winterville,” I said. “Then Soldier’s Pond.”
“I’ll buy you a round at the pub, if you like.”
I shook my head. “There’s somebody I need to find, here.”
“Who? I might know him. Otterburn’s a pretty small place.”
I tried to picture the girl Szarok had put in my head, then I did my best to describe her. “I’m not sure of her name … and she’d be older now, maybe by as many as ten years.”
“There aren’t too many black-haired, blue-eyed girls living here. Let me ask around.” Before I could say this was my responsibility, John Kelley took off.
And, honestly, I was weary enough that I didn’t mind. I opened my pack and ate some nuts and berries we’d picked on the way to town. Sitting nearby, Gavin devoured his share; I’d noticed how he always stayed close enough to touch me, nothing obvious, just a bump of his foot or an awkward jab of elbow. At some point over the last few weeks, we’d become family.
A bit later, John Kelley came back with news. “There are two girls that could be who you’re looking for. Should I send for them?”
“If you don’t mind.”
Confluence
One look, and I recognized the child from Szarok’s memory, so I dismissed the other. She seemed nervous when I did so. She was a year younger than I was, with long black hair and eyes like the heart of a flower. Before I could stop her, she dropped to one knee, like I was a princess from one of Morrow’s stories. Wide-eyed, I glanced at Gavin, who shrugged. He had spent too much time smelling me on the road to think I was special.
A number of Otterburn folk lingered to hear what I wanted from her, and I ignored them. When I pulled her to her feet, the girl was shaking. She kept her gaze turned down.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“Millie, ma’am.”
I debated inwardly whether I should tell her in private, but then I decided such recognition would probably raise her status in town—and she deserved it. “Do you recall tending an injured creature in the woods when you were small?”
Her head jerked up. “Yes, ma’am.”
“She’s always dragging home some wounded thing and doctoring it,” a man volunteered.
“But this wasn’t a rabbit or a squirrel, was it, Millie?”
She paled. “No. Am I in trouble? I never brought it near the village.”
“The exact opposite,” I assured her. “I’ve actually come to thank you. Because what you did when you were a little girl saved our lives.”
By the look on her face, she had no idea what I was talking about … and she suspected I was crazy. So I explained what Szarok had told me—omitting the part where he shared the memory directly—and by the time I finished, everyone in Otterburn was staring at her as if she were the biggest hero they’d ever seen.