Chapter 9
A New Shoot
Dawn had not fully broken when Eren finished packing.
The fire was out—only a few embers glowed orange in the ash. Wind lifted a thread of white smoke and scattered it into the dark. He stowed his waterskin and dry rations, checked the lashings once, shouldered his pack, and turned.
Nova was still curled against the earthen wall, motionless.
"Time to go."
The child rolled up and sat. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he did not complain—only pulled the half hide he had slept under tighter over his shoulder, stood, and followed.
The sky was deep gray, a cold white line pressed along the horizon. Dew hung on the barrens grass on both sides; wind drove sand against their cloaks with a fine, scraping sound.
Nova walked behind and to his left. His steps were surer than yesterday's, but still slow.
After a stretch of road the child spoke. "You didn't sleep last night?"
"I slept."
"Your eyes were open sometimes."
"Long enough out here and you get like that."
Nova nodded.
Past the old industrial belt the view opened. Bridge-Pier Village showed through the morning mist—the old overpass piers rising well above the mud walls around them.
Back in the village, Eren did not take Nova straight inside.
He led him to Auntie Li's first. Li was sitting in her doorway mending an old garment. At the sound of footsteps she looked up—Eren first, then the child behind him. Her needle paused.
"Eren—you're back. Come in." Her eyes moved to Nova. "Oh, whose child is this?"
"Met him on the road yesterday." Eren kept it short. "Don't know where he's from. No one recognized him. Has anyone in the village lost a kid these last couple days?"
Auntie Li studied Nova, brow creased with worry. "I haven't heard a thing. Wait here—I'll go get Uncle Zhang. He's always hanging around the gate."
Someone brought Uncle Zhang over quickly. He bent to look at Nova, then asked where Eren had found him. Eren told him the essentials.
"Nobody's said anything these last few days." Uncle Zhang scratched the back of his head. "Tell you what—I'll keep an ear out. If someone's looking, I'll send them your way."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet—might not turn up anything." Uncle Zhang turned to Nova, voice gentler. "Kid—you hungry?"
Nova looked at Eren.
Eren said, "If you're hungry, say so."
Only then Nova nodded. "A little."
Auntie Li went inside and came back with a piece of coarse flatbread and a small packet of dried greens, which she pressed into Nova's hands. "Another mouth at your place—you'll need this. And clothes. He can't keep going wrapped up like that."
"Just a kid. Not much trouble. I'll find clothes later."
Auntie Li looked at him. "You always talk like you've got everything handled. Sit tight. I'll dig out a couple of old things and bring them over."
Nova followed Eren through the courtyard gate and stood by the door, looking around.
"Come in."
The room was small—a narrow bed, a workbench, a few wooden shelves, tools and nails and hides piled in the corner.
Eren cleared the clutter by the bed, shook out the half hide from last night, and spread it against the wall. From beside the water jar he scooped half a bowl of water.
"Sit here," he said. "Sleep if you're tired. Don't touch what's on the bench."
Nova took the bowl, sat on the hide, and drank a little.
Once the child was settled, Eren picked up a hoe a neighbor had left for repair—a split wooden handle, iron collar loose. Easy work. He found nails and pliers, sat down, and got to it.
Nova finished the half flatbread and still did not sleep. He sat nearby watching Eren work.
"You know how to do a lot of things," Nova said.
"When you're my size you'll know more." Eren did not look up.
The hoe was nearly done when Uncle Zhang stopped by. He had just asked two men who often ran into town—no one had heard of a child like this lost anywhere nearby. Auntie Li came up behind him carrying a small stack of old clothes—a faded heavy coat, trousers cut down to size, and an old scarf. She did not pry, set the pile by the door, and said, "Get him changed first," then left.
Eren carried the clothes in and laid them by the bed.
"Change first."
Nova looked down at himself, then hugged the clothes and stepped behind the bed to change. The coat and trousers fit well enough; once the old scarf was on, he no longer looked like a child who had slept in the road.
"I might not have family," Nova said. "I don't remember any."
"Just haven't found them yet." Eren put his tools away and sat on the bench to count what money he had. Yesterday's payout had been decent, but he did not know when the next job would come. Sometimes the notice board sat empty for days; sometimes work piled up faster than he could take it.
He stood. "Rest up and come with me to town."
Nova looked up. "Still looking?"
"Village didn't know anything—we try the town. More people there." Eren shut the door.
"All right."
He had walked the road to Railton more times than he could count—roughly twenty minutes south from the village, along the old highway through the abandoned container yards.
Nova kept glancing at things along the way—the stripped shells of dead workshops, power poles fallen halfway over, hardy shrubs pushing up through the gravel now and then.
At the edge of the container field the road bent right past a rock face laid bare by a dirt slide. Eren glanced at it on instinct and slowed.
The stone looked wrong—gray-blue, almost wet-looking, darker than when he had passed last. Pale light showed in the cracks.
He stopped for two or three seconds, stepped aside, crouched, and worked his thumb into the seam. Crumbs fell; the color inside was clearer.
"Wait," he told Nova, and pulled a small chisel from the side pouch on his belt.
Nova crouched too, half a step back, eyes on the faint light in the crack.
The chisel met the edge of the seam. Two taps with his hammer broke off a chip—a rough lump, gray-blue and murky, thicker than surface dross but still cloudy. He held it to the light: low-grade gray Crystone, nothing pretty, but usable.
He tucked it into his pouch and set the chisel again, ready for another strike.
Deeper in the break, a different color traced the rock wall—like plant roots threading through stone. He had seen Crystone veins in rock before: solid blocks, angular edges, not this shape.
He pressed the chisel to the seam and nudged sideways, lightly.
The thing moved—not because gravel had shifted, but on its own. The fine tips drew in like a touched feeler, then slowly flattened against the rock again. You would not have seen it from a step back. He was close enough to see every bit of it.
"What are you doing?"
Eren did not answer. He was still staring into the crack.
Nova got no answer and edged closer, finger reaching out. Eren caught the motion from the corner of his eye and started to speak—but the filaments in the crack had already contracted again.
A tip lifted from the stone and reached for Nova's finger.
Eren grabbed Nova's wrist with his left hand. The outer side of his index finger scraped a sharp shard at the lip of the crack.
Blood beaded at once.
The filaments seemed to catch the scent. They snapped off the rock wall and wound around the wound, tips trembling, sliding into the broken skin.
Eren pulled his hand free and tried to tear the threads out—but when he looked down there was only a cut, blood seeping. He wiped it on his trouser leg, pressed his thumb over it, and stood to keep walking.
Then his index finger began to sting. Not like an ordinary slice—something driving inward pulse by pulse, pushing against the bone, getting stronger.
The skin at the wound's edge was wrong.
Pale gray lines ran from the cut toward his knuckle, crawling under the skin like capillaries—but not the color veins should be. Two or three threads, working toward his palm. A faint chill under the skin, as if something were creeping along the bone.
Eren made no sound and did not move.
He had seen something like this before.
Long ago, on a scouting run with a party, they had found a dead man—dead so long no one could say how long. Pale gray lines ran from his hand to his chest. He had stiffened where he fell; the skin felt hard under the fingers. Eren had crouched beside the body a long while. No one knew what it was.
He had never understood it until today.
The pale gray threads kept climbing—past the first knuckle, toward the palm.
Eren clenched his left hand, then opened it. The pressure eased. The gray lines stopped at the edge of his palm and did not go farther.
"Eren?"
Nova stood beside him, staring at his hand.
"Fine." Eren pulled his hand back, found a strip of cloth in his pack, and wrapped it tight.
It was not fine. Nova still had nowhere to go, the village had no leads, and he still had to make the trip to town.
Eren adjusted his belt pouch and looked toward Railton.
"Let's go."