Maud used the chair to climb out the window, landing softly on her feet and what was left of the aloe plants. She looked up to the window just as Alden leaned out it with the small fish knife for her. She took it and tucked it into her dress pocket. She glanced at the house up the hill. Across an open, muddy field. She had to go into the woods and around to behind it.

  “Here’s the basket,” Alden whispered down to her. He slid the basket of wraps and salve out the window and slowly lowered it to her. Once she had tucked the woven basket handle into her elbow, she looked up to see him hold a hand out to her. “Don’t take too long. Unless you have to. If you see them coming across the stream…”

  “Please stop talking like that,” Maud grabbed his hand and gave it a jerk to make him look into her face, “I’m not leaving you no matter what happens. I’ll be back, I promise.”

  “I know,” Alden squeezed her hand and then pulled it back into the window. “Go, I’ll keep watch.”

  She drew in a long, deep breath. The Kelger house had never been further away. A distant silhouette in the light of the rising sun that had yet to lift itself over the hill. She had never been so small. She tried to steady herself. She just needed to get there. Change his wraps. Help him saddle his horse. She had put socks in with the wraps, too. He’ll appreciate that. He’s always appreciative. He’ll save them. He’ll protect them and get them out of there. Her pauper knight. I can do this.

  She hesitated. The window was too high for her to crawl back in. But if she got a running start…no, Alden was right. They needed to know what was going on. Maybe in his charge, they had wounded him and he didn’t tell them. Why didn’t he just stay? She could have tended him, whatever it was. What if he’s dead from it? Bled all over his floor and his horse is just standing there? What if they came for him through the woods and already killed him? And the horse? It was so far away. Too far.

  I can do this. I can make it. I just need to use the woods.

  She went to the corner of the house and peered around it toward the village. The stream was rushing water, higher than it had ever been. The village beyond was mostly bits of walls sticking out of water between piles of crumpled wood and roofing. There were a few fires here and there, some bigger than others. She couldn’t see if anyone was at the fires or somewhere else. Are they already crossing the stream? She could be leaving Alden to die. What kind of sister would that make her? Like Uncle—no, just Balian now—if he were a woman. She’d rather die.

  “What are you doing? Will you go already?” Alden whispered from the window over her bed at her.

  “I’m scared, Aldy,” she whispered back as if she were yelling. “I don’t want to do this anymore. Come get me at the window.”

  “No. Stop being scared and go.”

  “If it were that easy, why don’t you come out here and you do it!”

  “Because I have to protect ma and pa. We already talked about this.”

  “Convenient for you, isn’t it? Some brother you are.”

  “Will you just go!”

  “I’m trying! I’m scared, okay. Where are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Maud fumed. When she can finally get a hold of him… “You can’t see them? You plowing lied to me!”

  “They’re probably sleeping.”

  “Probably!”

  “Sssshh!” He shook his head at her with wide eyes, “Are you mad? Shut up and go already. I can see into the woods and no one is there.”

  “How do you know if you can’t see them? I want back in. Come get me. Now.” She stomped.

  “Will you go already?”

  “Ugh, fine.” She took another fleeting glance toward the village and drew in a breath. Her heart was already beating like she had been running all night. Her eyes burned and no amount of blinking them made it ease. There was a tingling in her legs. It felt like weakness. She wasn’t going to make it, she already knew. Her legs won’t carry her.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  In her head, she shouted for him to come get her. But her feet moved. She was in the forest in an instant, racing up the pathway between twiggy low branches and patches of thickets.

  She didn’t think. She barely breathed.

  Branches scratched her face and legs, snagged her dress, but she didn’t slow.

  They could be anywhere around her. That’s not a branch, it’s a spear! She ran.

  They’re here already. They’re waiting for her. Dalfur knows the paths, he’s waiting for her. She ran.

  Behind this tree! She held the basket close to her chest to use the hard handle as a shield over her face. She ran.

  That’s Dalfur signaling that he sees her, not a robin singing. Behind that tree! Even when she stumbled, she ran.

  Every twist and turn in the path, she kept running. They’re right behind her. Alden couldn’t see them because they’re already here. They’ve killed him. There was no other explanation why the offlander never came back. She ran.

  Her back pressed against bricks. She doubled over to breathe. To cry. The basket crinkled when she dropped it at her feet. Her throat burned. She sank to the ground and raised her head, forcing her rapid breaths to deepen with dry gulps. Where was she? She put a hand to the bricks. This was Offla’s house. She didn’t completely remember getting there. But she knew those bricks anywhere. She started for the front.

  No, she stopped herself. She had to find the opening to the crawl. Otherwise, they’d see her. They’re here. They’re here. They’re here.

  She slid along the ground like an animal, scraping a nail in the ground along the wall. They’re here. I’m here.

  She found the crease and frantically clawed the mud away from the bottom of the brick she knew could be pushed in. It was larger than the other bricks of the house. If the ground hadn’t risen over the bottom of it, she could have pulled it out already.

  This is taking too long. She wanted to shout for him, but that was too dangerous. She leaned back from it on her hands and kicked. The brick swung inward and toppled to the ground. It was thinner than the other bricks, just like she remembered. She grabbed the basket and climbed in.

  It was pitch-black underneath apart from bits of light between the boards of the floor. Her hands clawed through deep, slick mud. She could feel the basket getting heavier because of the thick mud clinging to it as she dragged it with her. There was barely enough space for her to lift herself up on her elbows. She didn’t care. She could see the change in the patterns of light where she needed to go. Her knees were pushing mud, her stomach felt wet and clumpy from it clinging to her dress in clumps, her face felt like a hand was permanently pressed on it.

  She slid to where there was no light between the boards to guide her. Her head hit something hard and cold. Her teeth rattled. She slid back.

  The gods, they’re under here! She held her breath. No, she told herself, that’s ridiculous. You were the one who opened it. She let out a sigh of relief. She almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous that sounded. Like they’d purposely climb under his house to grab her. No matter how farfetched, the thought alone was enough to make her stiffen. She brushed it away and reached for whatever she had crawled into.

  It was smooth. Metal. She could feel etchings in it, long smooth ones, changes in the textures of the metal. She searched it with her fingertips for an end. She had to be close; that’s why it was blocking her way and the light. The end of it was just within reach, its edge thinned almost like a knife or a sword but not as sharp. She didn’t need to try to lift it to know that it was heavy. She ducked under a beam and slid to the side of it, the light between the boards once again lighting her way.

  In fact, she noticed with a smile, it was right where she wanted to be. This metal plate with belts sticking out of it, whatever it is, was set here through the entrance inside. She dragged herself to her knees and pulled the basket. It thudded against something and tipped.

  “Shit, no, don’t!” She dove to catch it from spilling everything out. She caught it just in time, having nearly planted herself in the mud. And that was when she saw it. At the base of the metal thing was a box half buried in the mud. Perfect, she thought as she shifted herself to over top of the box, something solid to step on.

  She pressed on the floor above her, searching for the loose boards. There was a creaking sound and she lifted herself to use her back to push it up enough to slide it over. Slide? No, she was in too much of a hurry for that. She threw the board as hard as she could, though it was still too heavy to move more than a bit to the side.

  “Offla! Offla!” She called as she climbed out of the crawl onto the floor a few paces from his dark hearth. Still calling out, she reached down and lifted the basket to beside her. “Offla!”

  She stood, facing his empty hay bed. His glistening wet bed. “Offla?” She could hear the tremble in her own voice. Her knees gave out. Her eyes fluttered with tears. He wasn’t there. No boots. No feedbag. No pelts. It was as if he had never been there at all. Just as empty as the day Sadie died. Emptier.

  “No.” She searched from where she sat, hoping that he would appear with that kind smile on his handsome face and somehow use his hands to tell her he was there all along. That it was a game or something. She looked for a sign, any sign that he was coming back, maybe. The hearth was filled with floating sticks and kindling in murky water. The pot hanging from it, their pot that they had brought over, was still hanging there, but was overflowing with rainwater. Water was still dripping from the loose thatching. Everything was wet, slimy with mildew that filled the air with a musky rotting smell.

  “You left us to die.” And she buried her muddy face in her hands and cried.