Chapter 25 — The Path Out

By noon the sun reached the ravine floor, pale and washed out. Smoke from my small fire hung thin in the air. Elira rose, brushing crumbs from her hands, and looked toward the bend where she had come.

"You can't stay here," she said. "The grask won't be the last thing to sniff you out. Ravines are larders for worse."

I kept my expression guarded. "Why do you care?"

She tilted her head, braid swinging, eyes amused. "I don't. Not the way you mean. But I know what happens when strangers vanish in these valleys. The caller's reach grows, the roads choke tighter, and honest traders like me starve." She patted the basket at her side. "So yes—I've got a stake. Keep you breathing, keep him breathing—" she ruffled Merlin's ears, earning a tired wag—"and maybe the scales tip one grain against him."

She didn't speak like a rebel. No banners, no oaths. Just a woman trying to survive a crooked system by making the crooked a little less sharp.

Still, it was more than nothing.

"And what do you want from me?" I asked.

Her smile was dry. "Nothing yet. If you're half as stubborn as you look, you'll stumble into usefulness soon enough. Until then, I get company on the road, and I don't leave a man and his beast to rot in a hole."

Merlin nosed her hand, tail sweeping the dirt. He trusted her without question.

I pressed my palm to his fur, silent, weighing.

Elira slung her basket back over her shoulder. "There's a goat track east of here. Steep, but it leads to the high forest. Safer than sitting still. You coming?"

I looked at the shelter I'd built, at the carcass bones, at the fire dying low. Then at Merlin, who pushed against my leg, eyes bright despite his weakness.

I gripped my club, stood, and nodded once.

Elira smiled. "Good. Let's see if we can't cheat death a little longer."

She set off toward the bend, humming the same careless tune. Merlin limped after her. And me, with no choice worth naming, followed.

— Tenth day, morning, leaving the ravine with Elira —