Before Dark

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Locke kept scraping the hide stretched between the stakes. “No, I’m not.”

The blade caught.

Kealira folded her arms.

He looked at the snag, then at her. “Go on, then.”

She took the blade and settled beside him. With less pressure, the edge slipped cleanly along the hide.

“You’re trying to force it.”

“It was working.”

She handed it back. “Eventually.”

He tried again. This time, the blade moved smoothly.

“Don’t get used to it,” she said.

“I didn’t ask you to come out here.”

“You would’ve kept doing it wrong.”

He almost smiled.

Beyond the trees, the afternoon light lay pale over the water. Kealira watched it while he worked.

“How far have you gone with your father?”

“Past the slope.”

“And after that?”

“More trees.”

“There must be something.”

“The ground drops.”

She gave him a look. “You’re terrible at this.”

“At what?”

“Making anywhere sound worth going.”

Her mother was mending a net when Kealira returned. She glanced at the doorway.

“You’re late.”

“I was helping Locke.”

“Then you’re wasting time twice.”

Kealira sat and took up a loose section of net. Her fingers moved quickly, drawing the cord through.

“Slower,” her mother said.

She loosened the knot and started again.

They worked until the light shifted across the floor. When Kealira rose, her mother held out a small knife, its handle worn smooth from use.

“Take this.”

Kealira turned it in her hand.

“And be back before dark.”

“I know.”

Her mother had already returned to the net.

At Locke’s house, his father kept him long enough to finish a task. Kealira waited outside, listening to the low exchange within.

“Hold it steady.”

A pause.

“Better.”

When Locke finally emerged, she was leaning against the wall.

“Finished?”

He nodded.

“Come on.”

Her first stone sank almost immediately.

“Still bad,” Locke said.

“Show me.”

His skipped twice.

“Doesn’t count.”

“It does.”

Kealira searched the shore for another stone, then straightened with it resting in her palm. Across the water, the distance blurred into evening.

“What do you think is out there?”

“Far.”

“Everything’s far with you.”

He sat on the bank. After a moment, she sat beside him.

“I’m not staying here,” she said.

“I know.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“No.”

She looked down at the stone.

“Good.”

For a while, neither spoke. The water brushed against the shore. Somewhere behind them, branches stirred.

Then Kealira lifted her head.

Locke noticed. “What?”

She listened.

The wind had changed, or stopped. She couldn’t have said which. Something in the rhythm of the place had slipped.

“Kealira?”

She stood.

“Let’s go.”

He left his stones where they lay.

They heard the shouting before they reached the village.

Kealira broke into a run. Through the trees, a light flickered where there should have been shadow.

Then the path opened.

Several houses were burning.

People crossed between them, running through smoke. Voices overlapped until she could no longer separate words from cries. Fire climbed a roof she knew.

She stepped toward it.

Locke caught her wrist.

“Go.”

She pulled against him once.

His grip tightened.

“Go.”

They ran.

Roots caught at their feet. Kealira stumbled, struck the ground with one hand, and felt Locke drag her upright. Behind them, the trees flashed orange.

At a fork, he turned down a narrow dip she would have passed without seeing. His father had brought him this way. That was enough.

She followed.

By the time the firelight disappeared, her breath hurt. She kept waiting for Locke to stop, to tell her they had gone far enough, but he was listening as hard as she was.

Only then did she notice the knife still clenched in her hand.

A torch moved between the trees.

Kealira stopped so abruptly that Locke nearly lost hold of her.

“What if it’s them?”

He watched the light.

“It’s not.”

She couldn’t tell whether he believed it.

“Hold.”

The man carrying the torch stood several paces away. His gaze moved over their clothes, their faces, the blade in Kealira’s hand.

“Where are you coming from?”

Neither answered.

Beyond the treetops, the northern sky glowed.

The man looked toward it. When he turned back, his voice had changed.

“You’re coming with me.”

Ridgewatch rose around them in pieces: a timber wall, rough stone, a narrow gate. Someone knocked on a door until a man opened it, still pulling his clothes into place.

The guard spoke quietly.

The man looked north.

“How many?”

No one answered.

He stepped aside.

“Wake Sera.”

Inside, bedrolls covered much of the floor. People stirred as the door opened, then fell quiet when they saw who had come through it.

Kealira remained standing.

A woman approached with a blanket.

“You made it in,” she said.

She held it where Kealira could take it. When she didn’t, the woman placed it beside her.

“I’m Sera.”

Locke lowered himself onto a bench. Kealira sat close enough that their shoulders touched.

Someone brought water.

She looked at the cup for a long time.

“It’s gone,” she said.

Sera stayed beside them.

In the morning, Ridgewatch was already at work.

Men carried timber along the wall. Others checked weapons or stood watching the road. The ordinary sounds of labor reached the small room where Sera had brought them bread.

Locke broke off a piece.

Kealira watched him eat before taking any herself.

“They’ll have questions,” Sera said. “You don’t have to answer everything at once.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Then tell them that.”

When the man from the doorway arrived, he asked their names first.

Then where they had come from.

Then what they had seen.

“Fire,” Kealira said.

He waited.

“People running.”

“Did you see where it started?”

Locke shook his head. “We didn’t stay.”

“Good.”

Kealira looked up sharply.

The man let a moment pass.

“You did right to leave.”

He sent two men north.

They returned later that day.

“Nothing left standing,” one of them said.

The questions came quietly after that. Movement. Tracks.

Bodies.

“We didn’t go in.”

Orders followed. More men on watch before nightfall.

Kealira listened until the voices became sounds again.

Her hand moved toward the knife on the table. She picked it up, feeling the familiar wear in the handle.

Her mother had gone back to mending the net.

Be back before dark.

Kealira laid the knife between herself and Locke.

“That’s all I have.”

Sera didn’t reach for it.

Outside, someone called for another length of timber. A hammer struck, paused, then struck again.

Locke stayed beside her.