She stood and took a few steps, drawing up her pants so she could see her feet. “They’re good,” she said, surprised.
He swept the leftover scraps of leather cord into his satchel. The covers made perfect soles, just as he’d thought. Tough but flexible. Best use he’d ever seen for a book. They’d last a few days. Then he’d have to come up with something better. If she lived that long.
If she didn’t, he’d already decided he would take the eyepiece to Marron’s alone. He’d find a way to send a signal to any Dweller who’d hear it. He’d offer himself and the eyepiece in exchange for his nephew.
She lifted a foot and looked at the bottom. “How fitting. Did you choose this one on purpose, Outsider? I’m not sure this bodes well for our journey. ”
Perry snatched his satchel. Took up his bow and quiver. He didn’t have a clue what book he’d chosen. He couldn’t read. Had never learned no matter how many times Mila and Talon had tried to teach him. He walked out of the cave before she could see that and call him a stupid Savage.
They spent the morning crossing hills Perry had known all his life. They were nearing the eastern edge of Vale’s territory, rolling land that climbed out of the Tide Valley. Wherever he looked he saw memories. The knoll where he and Roar had made their first bows. The oak tree with the split trunk that Talon had climbed a hundred times. The banks of the dry creek that first time with Brooke.
His father had walked this land once. Longer ago still, his mother had as well. It was strange missing a place before having left it. Unsettling to realize he had no loft to climb back into when he tired of being in the open. And he was walking with a Dweller. That cast the day in an odd light as well. Her presence made him shifty and irritated. He knew she wasn’t the Mole who took Talon, but she was still one of them.
She jumped at every small sound during the first hours. She walked too slow and made more noise than someone her size ever should. Worst of all, she’d begun to put off a thick black temper as the morning wore on, telling him that grief had followed him. This girl he’d somehow struck a bargain with had suffered and lost and was hurting. Perry did his best to keep upwind from her, where the air was clear.
“Where are we going, Savage?” she asked around midday. She was a good ten paces behind him. Walking ahead held another advantage besides avoiding her scent. He didn’t have to keep seeing the eyepiece on her face. “I think I’
ll call you that since I don’t know your name. ”
“I won’t answer. ”
“Well, Hunter? Where are we heading?”
He tipped his chin. “That way. ”
“That’s helpful. ”
Perry glanced over his shoulder at her. “We’re going to see a friend. His name is Marron. He’s that way. ” He pointed to Mount Arrow. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” she said, frustrated. “What is snow like?”
That nearly stopped him in his tracks. How could a person know about snow without knowing it was pure and silent and whiter than bone? Without knowing how the chill of it stung your skin? “It’s cold. ”
“What about roses? Do they really smell so great?”
“See many roses around here?” He knew better than to give a true answer. From what he could tell, she’d never heard about Scires in her stories. Perry wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t trust her. Knew she wasn’t planning to help him. Whatever double-crossing she meant to do, he’d figure it out.
“Do the clouds ever clear?” she asked.
“Completely? No. Never. ”
“What about the Aether? Does that ever go away?”
“Never, Mole. The Aether never leaves. ”
She looked up. “A world of nevers under a never sky. ”
She fit in well then, he thought. A girl who never shut up.
Her questions continued through the day. She asked if dragonflies made a sound when they flew and if rainbows were myths. When he stopped answering, she turned to speaking to herself as though it were a natural thing. She talked about the warm color of the hills against the blue cast of the Aether. When the wind kicked up, she said the sound reminded her of turbines. She stared at rocks, wondering at the minerals that made them, even pocketing a few. She’d fallen into a deep silence once, when the sun appeared, and it was then he’d wondered most what she was thinking.
Perry couldn’t figure out how a person could be grieving and still manage to talk so much. He ignored her as best he could. He kept an eye on the Aether, relieved to see that it moved in pale drifts above. They’d leave the Tides’ land soon so he paid close attention to the scents carrying on the wind. He knew they’d meet with some form of danger eventually. Traveling outside tribe territories guaranteed it. Hard enough to survive alone in the borderlands. Perry wondered how he’d manage it with a Mole.
Late in the afternoon, he found a sheltered valley to lay camp. Night was falling by the time he got the fire going. The Dweller sat on an overturned tree examining the soles of her feet. What healthy skin she’d had left that morning had blistered.
Perry found the salve he’d taken from the cave and brought it to her. She unscrewed the small jar, her black hair spilling forward as she peered at it. Perry frowned. What was she doing? Was her eyepiece some sort of magnifying glass?
“Don’t eat that, Dweller. Spread it on your feet. Here. ” He pushed a handful of dried fruit at her along with a cluster of thistle roots he’d dug up earlier. They tasted like uncooked potatoes, but at least they wouldn’t starve. “That you can eat. ”