Fall

Atlas

In Atlas’s opinion, the South had too many sand cows.

It was one matter to see them penned beyond the city, and another to successfully round them into a protected, movable herd while keeping the seventeen towns appeased.

Seventeen counts and recounts were included to make sure the town’s livestock was accounted for. At least seventeen panics from each town when accusations of theft were thrown into the mix. Theft of sand cows could mean a death sentence for the guilty.

Milla was currently in the midst of sorting out another argument while Atlas and Skye looked on from a dune.

“Can we go?” she said. A wavering pitch entered Skye’s voice, threatening to dip into a whine.

“Can Milla make a new record for breaking up a fight?” Atlas said. He watched Madoc wilt on her shoulder as Skye sighed.

The ever-present sand swirled around them. Behind them, Chesa could be heard. It was significantly quieter than days past. Firstly, because the grand meeting was now over.

More importantly, because the majority of the city was in front of them.

Atlas sighed. This is harder than convincing them to join us in the first place.

The war will be over by the time we leave, Hudson agreed.

They saw Milla bark a Chestic curse, and physically separate the two cow herders she was dealing with. To each, she gave stern words and pointed looks. Atlas could hear the words “adults” and “sand cows” in the mix. Each of the herders bowed their heads. Milla grew softer, coaxing them to shake hands.

And then she was back, dusting off her Northern blue shirt and buckskin pants.

“Fifteen minutes. She didn’t break her record,” Skye mumbled.

“What was that?” Milla said. She went to June and took a swig from their water gourds. Soon, Atlas would have to refill them again at Chesa.

“Just keeping track of your hourly pay,” Atlas said lightly. He adjusted his cap that blocked the already-burning sun.

“Retirement is looking better every day.” Milla rubbed her shoulder. “You know, I’m not the one leading this mission.”

Atlas knew what she meant. “Do you think I can settle fights with the vocabulary of a seven-year-old?”

“When I’m gone you’ll have to. Life knows you have the best grasp of it after me.” Milla rummaged through June’s saddlebags, then snapped them shut. “Do you recall the term for immersion?”

“Learning through living,” Skye chirped.

“I recall it.” Atlas sifted his boots to the top of the sand. Hudson copied him with his paws.

“Then stop being afraid of what you don’t know,” Milla tossed him a water skin, “and help me figure out which cow brand belongs to the town of Pike.”

Piper

Piper was awoken from her daydream by a smack in the face.

Reine sniggered beside her. I was wondering if that branch would catch you.

Thanks for the heads up! Piper thought.

I cannot help if you can’t see what’s in front of you, the fera purred.

I was thinking about why the East hasn’t harvested this, Piper explained. She let a passing vine drape luxuriously across her arm. You think this would be on every soldier, and with this much, in every home. A conservation effort, perhaps?

Reine gave her a sidelong glance. I don’t think the territory trying to destroy everyone would be concerned about plant life.

Finch was close to the ground, examining another set of tracks. “I think they’ve come this way often. Or there’s a stampede of big cats around.”

That would be a prowl, or a pride, or a streak, or a leap, Reine said.

Piper gently corrected him. Finch rolled his eyes. “Of course. I forgot I was talking to Miss Cat.”

“You mean Reine. The leopard,” she said curtly.

“Whatever you call it, they went that way.” Finch pointed ahead. “I don’t know how close we are to them, but I hope they have food.” They had used the last of their reserves for breakfast. Lunch would be boiled swamp water and anything Reine caught.

Reine sniffed the tracks. Still no scent. The vitrum really did absorb their trail.

That’s when her ears pricked. She became rigid, her neck bent forward.

What is it? Piper held her breath, and listened through her fera.

Far away, with a noise fainter than the morning birds around them, there was a short melody of two notes. It sounded once more, and then was still.

The noise could only be the attempt of music, or a signal. Either way, it was manmade. And where manmade things were, there were people to go with it.

Piper took Finch’s hand, and raced after Reine.

They followed the shadow of what was once music, using Reine’s memory to pinpoint it. Piper bobbed, wove, and occasionally was taken down by branches and roots. Finch fared better, sometimes having to double back to help her up.

“No,” Piper said after the second time. “Follow Reine. I’ll know where she is.”

Finch nodded, and continued the chase. Chip still hovered in the trees, fluttering in the canopy to check her progress. Piper smirked. For all his indifference, he couldn’t let her fall behind. They were a team now.

Reine was too focused to comment. She was aware of Finch stumbling after her, and that Piper was growing further behind.

Piper sent her a quick thought. Keep going. I’m fine.

Her fera scrambled like a natural, jumping over roots and propelling herself over the gaps of water as if she had grown with the vitrum vines. If she were larger, perhaps she could pass for an Eastern leopard. Perhaps that’s why they hadn’t been caught yet.

A root caught the tip of her boot, sending Piper into a sprawl. She spat out earth, and propped herself on her elbows.

Piper. Reine’s voice was faint.

What? Piper said. Why had they stopped?

You should see this. Reine sent her an image through their link. It was a hovel—a house draped in vitrum.

Someone lives here.