canica (1/7)

He came with the rain. A thousand fingers scuttled over the canvas and the wind blew warm with the memory of day. I shivered awake. We always imagine ourselves watched; in my long travels I'd made my peace with the feeling, and prying my eyes into a squint I expected to find myself alone.

Moonlight glinted in his wolf's grin. 'Follow me, Canica,' he said. A blackness carved out of the stars he unfolded from his crouch and stalked away.

The shift of fabric as I pushed aside my blanket.

I slept the rest of the night on horseback, waking only once to find us stopped and him off his mount. Dawn peered just under the horizon. It made hunched shadows of the mountains and gilded the edges of clouds. Parchment rustled. He slipped something into his pocket and started to turn. I slumped in the saddle and let my eyelids close. If he heard me stir he gave no sign.

Doors and shutters slammed. Hooves clicked, wagon wheels creaked behind the city walls. Outside Hember’s Mantle I waited with the horses for six hours, seven maybe. As the sun fled and night crept in the bustle of voices tired itself out and the town settled into a restless sleep. Crickets trilled. Wind whistled in the conifers I had tied our horses to. I upended my waterskin and found it dry. My eyes kept wandering to the pack on his horse. It sagged, heavy. I wouldn’t be able to see inside anyway. He had told me no fires.

It was near dawn when he returned. He checked the pack, nodded to himself, and tossed me my pay. We rode far from Hember’s Mantle, and his pace was fast; we reached the anchorage at Salt and crossed the sea and kept on riding. Storm clouds followed us like an evil omen. I became afeared. When I told him he laughed and said to me, ‘The clouds follow no man.’

The roads grew wet and winding. Withered trees slouched out of the earth and drooped fronds like thirsty tendrils into the muck of the swamp. Even the land was tired, but we rode on.