Chapter 33
Prairie Fire
They crossed the ridges through the night. Dawn was breaking when they hit Foothill.
Lila walked point, hood low, half her face in shadow. Eren's head still swam; he trailed her in a shambling step. Cloth wrapped his soot-blackened face, blood not quite washed clean, a sharp burnt smell on him that drew second looks from people on the street. Nova walked between them, collar bunched, soot and tear tracks mixed on his cheeks.
The street was a mess—men squatting at an alley mouth with dry-leaf pipes, someone stacking sacks on a handcart, a few in the middle of the road staring up toward the hills.
Far out, wind had torn most of the gray off the horizon.
Talk kept floating up the street.
"Wildfire burned all night."
"What was that blast—another rock coming down…?"
At the market edge a few young men had bunched up, loud about going up together to "see what the hell happened." One gripped a chopping knife. Another had a coil of rope over his shoulder.
The three of them passed behind the group. Eren didn't stop, didn't turn toward them. He spoke only to Lila—but every word carried to anyone within a few steps.
"Valley was bad up there. Another bunch shoved after us—five of them. Never saw them come back out. You?"
Lila shook her head, eyes empty.
"Could be the vein blew. Get close and if the fire doesn't take you, the smoke will."
Done, he flicked Lila a look. She nodded with him.
If townsfolk went up and ran into that powered-armor unit, most wouldn't come back. All Eren could do was make the hills sound as deadly as he could.
Behind them the young men's voices thinned without anyone quite noticing. Someone slid the rope off his shoulder and held it, not looping it back on.
The three of them didn't look back. They slipped past and kept walking.
Around the south side of the market, miners with shovels and picks stood along the road, empty lunch boxes clinking at their belts. They sat at the roadside, tired and jumpy, staring at nothing.
A short, stocky man who looked like a foreman stood in front of them. When he opened his mouth, it was loud: "Who's going up to scout? Extra two days' pay this month."
Nobody answered.
His face fell. He was about to shout again when the three of them brushed the edge of the crowd. Eren turned his head and laid the mountain talk on thicker, loud enough to cover the brittle edge left in the foreman's bluster.
The miners glanced at one another. Someone in the middle muttered, "Forget it," and the group drifted apart.
The foreman watched Eren's back for two seconds, then turned the other way—probably to take it upstairs.
They didn't linger on the open street. Two alleys later they headed for the quiet shops on the east side of town.
At the back door of Mr. He's mountain-goods shop, Lila knocked three times. A pause. Two more.
The door cracked from inside. Half a lean, dark face showed. When he saw who it was, Mr. He pulled the door wide, stepped aside to let them in, and barred it behind them.
In the back room the curtains were drawn tight. Mr. He fetched three low stools, dug a half-jug of cold tea from under the cabinet, and poured three bowls.
Lila sat.
Mr. He looked at her, then at Eren and Nova. Both looked worse than last time.
His eyes ran from the soot in Lila's hairline to the new wound on Eren's head, then back to her face.
"The branch is gone," Lila said.
Mr. He's hand stopped on the bowl.
"Gone? How—what about the others?" His voice shook with urgency and disbelief.
"All of them."
He set the bowl on his knee and left it there a long time.
"Mr. Shen?"
Lila shook her head.
Mr. He's lips moved. Nothing came. In his mind Mr. Shen had always been a good man.
Lila's voice still shook, so Eren took it up and told Mr. He what had happened in the hills, start to finish—everything but the manuscript.
The hand on the bowl trembled as he listened. A few drops spilled. He didn't wipe them.
By the time Eren finished, Mr. He's knuckles were white, his mouth twitching. His eyes moved across their three faces.
Air in the shop went heavy. Nova curled on the stool, knees against his chest.
Mr. He's throat worked. It took a long time before sound came out.
"Those powered-armor troops you talked about… that true?"
Eren nodded once. "Every word."
"Ah—you lot took too much risk. How could you…" Mr. He's voice tightened.
"Leave it. We're back in one piece." Eren's throat was still raw. "Just wish we'd been more use."
At that, Mr. He's shoulders dropped. He bowed his head, both hands over his face. Through his fingers came a thin hitch of breath, cut short. A long while later he let his hands fall. His eyes were already red.
He wiped his face on his sleeve.
"What now?"
"Lila and I find another branch. Get word out about what happened here."
Mr. He listened. Didn't interrupt.
"Lila says there's a branch around Rusak Town. Closest one from here."
Mr. He rubbed his chin. "Rusak… I've heard that. Their head's supposed to be something."
Lila nodded. She'd heard the same talk. Only now the word didn't land as comfort—it set her mind spinning.
Even a strong branch—could it stop those people?
"Want me with you?" Mr. He asked.
"No need, Mr. He," Eren said. "We'll go ourselves."
Mr. He thought a moment, then gave them what he knew of the road—which stretches were rough, when caravans ran thick, which villages would take you in. Not detailed. All first-hand.
Eren listened and fixed the points that mattered.
He stepped half a pace closer. "Watch yourself too. Shut the shop a few days if you have to. Say you went for stock."
Mr. He nodded. No more than that. He knew the line. He was a shopkeeper who lent a hand to the revolutionaries—not on the rolls. The risk stayed small.
After that the room went quiet again.
Mr. He stood, took an old tin from the top of the cabinet—a few sticks of charcoal and a pinch of dry grass inside. He pushed it to the middle of the table and found a chipped bowl.
"Something to remember them by."
Lila reached into her collar, touched Mr. Shen's letter, then let it go. In the end she only drew a bloodstained strip of cloth from her sleeve. She'd wiped her hands with it coming out of the bunker. The blood had long dried hard into a small lump.
She set the cloth in the bowl.
Mr. He lit it. The flame was small—smoke first, then a lick of dull red. None of them spoke. Nova watched the cloth curl in on itself until it collapsed to ash.
Lila murmured a long string of names under her breath.
"Old Shen, White Wolf, Lin Ce…"
At Lin Ce her voice broke for a beat.
She hadn't seen them die with her own eyes. For her, they had stayed in those hills forever.
When they'd said what they needed to, Mr. He took a lamp and led them upstairs. Same room as before—two bunks where Eren and Nova had stayed last time. He pushed the beds together, smoothed the bedding, added an extra quilt. Room enough for three.
It was the small hours. From the descent through the talk, they'd pushed through most of a night.
Mr. He brought up a pot of hot gruel from below—coarse grain, a few pickled leaves. Nobody ate much, but when the heat went down their throats, a little of the exhaustion went with it.
Eren finished and pulled off his outer coat. Lila checked his wounds first.
She peeled the cloth from his brow. The split still seeped a thin dark red at the edges; the flesh around it had swollen into a bruise-purple ring, and the surgical cut at the corner of his left eye was swollen too.
She looked at the knife wound in his side. It had torn open again. Blood had soaked through in a patch.
Mr. He found a small bottle of rough salve and clean cloth. Lila cleaned the wounds again, put on the salve, and wrapped them.
Nova curled in the middle, clutching the bundle with the manuscript and the letter. Sleep finally took him; his head tipped and he was out.
Eren followed soon after.
Lila lay on the other side, eyes open on the ceiling. Now and then Mr. He's muffled cough came up from below. Outside, wind moved the shop sign; a wood chip tapped the wall. Every tap sounded like a distant shot. Her hand found the short knife at her waist first, then eased off.
Nova twitched in his sleep, brow knotted, as if something had startled him. He made a small sound and burrowed deeper into the quilt.
A good while later, Lila shut her eyes.
When they woke, light was already leaking through the curtain gap—afternoon.
Downstairs, Mr. He had a jar of thin porridge warming on the stove.
They ate, then sat in the upstairs room and talked it through.
"If we leave today—do we make it?" Lila asked.
"Don't push yourself that hard." Eren shook his head. "Those people probably won't chase us down the mountain. We can rest and still be in time."
"I want to go as soon as we can. The sooner the better." Her fists clenched as she said it.
Eren let out a breath. The shoot jumped a few times under his skin. He cinched his belt one notch tighter before he spoke.
"My wounds need a few more days." He touched the cloth on his brow, then looked at Nova. "Nova's worn out too."
Lila knew it was true—and that he was saying it to hold her steady. There was nothing more she could ask of either of them. She nodded.