Chapter 11

A New Shoot

Some more time passed like that.

One day Eren took Nova into town again for work. Partway along he glanced back—Nova was gone.

His stomach dropped. Railton was not a big place, but the streets had every sort of trouble. He had heard plenty about kidnappers and swindlers. Nova was small; one careless moment and he could vanish into a crowd. Where was Eren supposed to look?

He doubled back to the last corner and called twice. No answer. He shouldered into the market crowd, asking along the roadside—two stalls, still no sign. Near the far end he finally caught sight of a small thin back, crouched before a stall, staring at a one-legged tin dog toy as if nothing else existed.

Eren crossed in a few strides, grabbed Nova's arm, and hauled him up. Anger flared so fast it startled even him, though he had to keep his voice down: "How many times have I told you—stay close. I turn around and you're gone. Where am I supposed to look?"

Nova staggered from the pull. He looked up at Eren's face, went blank for a second, then his eyes reddened. His lips moved; he curled his hands to his chest, knuckles white.

Someone behind the stall was watching. Eren let go and drew a breath. The rage drained, leaving a hollow ache.

Maybe he had been pushing Nova to grow up faster because of the shoot—but some things could not be rushed.

They walked half a street in silence. Eren slowed, throat dry. "...I was sharp back there."

Nova kept his head down, swiped quickly at his eyes with the back of one hand. Voice thick with hurt: "...I was only looking."

"You can look. Tell me next time."

Nova hmmed, stuffy-nosed.

They walked on without much talk, all the way to the notice board. Eren found a delivery job—salt and cloth to a hamlet south of town, a full day's walk, fair pay. He had worked for the client before; reliable, no tricks. He had meant to go alone, but after circling the board once he called Nova along anyway—to get the boy used to how deliveries worked.

The load was heavy. Eren rented a chest-high pack rabbit in town and lashed the freight on. People here kept rabbits for hire; a pack animal saved your back on a run like this.

The weather held when they set out—light wind, sun behind cloud, pale shadows on the sand. Nova walked beside the rabbit behind Eren, ears flat, thick paw pads silent on the gravel. Partway along Nova reached up and stroked the rabbit's back; its ears twitched. He smiled briefly and kept walking.

Not long after, a stretch of ruined fencing appeared along the roadside—wire rusted through in most places, posts leaning every which way, ringing an empty lot with no way to tell what had stood there. Nova peered in.

"What's this place?"

"Used to be a farm, or a warehouse—hard to say." Eren did not slow. "Places like this—don't just wander in."

"Why?"

"Someone might be hiding inside. Or a beast might have made a den."

Nova glanced back once more and caught up. "How do you know if anyone's in there?"

"Fresh tracks on the ground, or soil that's been turned. Check the corners—food scraps, wrappers, things people leave behind. Beasts, you smell for."

Nova swept the lot the way Eren had said, silent. His feet edged half a step wider around the outside.

Near the ruins the wind picked up again, carrying rust and scorched earth. It drove into their faces until they could barely lift their heads.

The road narrowed. Crumbled adobe walls ran on both sides, dry grass on the parapets pressed flat by the wind. The rabbit's ears pricked, then dropped again.

Eren's hand went to his belt. He lightened his step.

"Don't talk."

Nova shut his mouth and took two steps closer.

Past a strip of broken road, three men stepped out from behind a shattered wall and blocked the way ahead. One carried an iron pipe. The other two had short knives at their belts. Ragged clothes, eyes red with hunger.

Eren sized them up. Improvised weapons, ragged dress, no common mark—drifters, nothing more.

"You there—leave the freight and walk." The man with the pipe shouted from where he stood.

"I'm hauling this for someone else," Eren said, showing no tension. "It doesn't get through, I eat the loss. Not worth your trouble. If you're hungry, I've got hardtack in my pack."

The three exchanged a look.

The one on the left slid half a step sideways.

Eren shoved Nova back behind him, dropped his shoulder, and shifted aside. The pipe man lunged—all at once, pipe coming down on his head. Eren's right hand swept behind him; the faceted war hammer was already in his grip, raised crosswise to block.

The pipe struck a ridge on the hammer head. The metal bent in a dent. The wielder's palm went numb; he stumbled back.

Before Eren could recover the hammer, the man on his right was already at his side, knife low at the hip, half a step from contact.

He meant to swing with his left—and found it moving faster than he had planned.

Something like current burst from his left arm. Heat under the skin, the whole limb driving sideways, and the man at his hip lifted clean off the ground and flew. He hit the gravel two meters out, rolled once, and did not get up right away.

The pipe man froze.

Eren froze too.

The third man took two steps back, knife in hand, too scared to move.

The three looked at each other, hauled up their still-dazed companion, and retreated behind the ruined wall without a backward glance.

Eren did not chase.

His left arm was going numb.

Not ordinary numbness—from the wrist bone upward, as if someone were stitching under the skin with thick needle and thread.

He looked down. Along the edge of the cloth wrap the pattern's color had shifted—pale gray giving way to dark yellow creeping up the skin. Like sparks in dead embers, climbing past the elbow, toward the shoulder.

He tried to raise his left arm and could not. Flesh felt pinned from inside.

The lines did not stop. They crossed the shoulder, crept up the side of his neck. Burning under the skin, like hot oil poured on.

His left eye blurred. The broken wall doubled—no amount of blinking cleared it.

The shoot. Something had gone wrong with the shoot. He remembered Old Qin saying some people were gone in two months. He did not know if he would be faster.

He wanted to crouch, but the three might still be watching from cover. He braced his right hand on the pack and leaned against the rabbit. It did not panic—only lowered its head and nudged his shoulder.

From the shoulder down, the left arm might as well have belonged to someone else—it would not answer.

Nova ran up in front of him, mouth moving. The words seemed to come through glass, far away and indistinct.

Eren could not hold on much longer. He sagged sideways and slid down the rabbit's warm flank to the ground.

The sky overhead was still pale gray, wind still blowing.

Nova's face hovered at his side, eyes wide.

Eren tried to say something. His mouth moved. No sound came out.