I left in a hurry, she says.

I close my eyes. The weight thumps down on me. You, I says, are completely useless.

I am not! I found you, didn’t I?

Stay here, I says. If you so much as move a finger, I’l kil you. An wipe yer damn nose.

She wipes it on her sleeve. Are you takin me with you? she says. To find Lugh?

What I’d like to do, I says, is leave you here fer the vultures to pick over.

I col ect everythin from inside the flyer—Nero, my barksack an my weapons. I load the gear onto the horse an then I lift her on too.

Gawdam you, Emmi, I says. You always ruin everythin.

I ain’t spoke to Emmi fer two days. I ain’t got naught to say to her. I’m stil mad.

She tried to talk to me a bit at rst but gave up when I didn’t so much as grunt back. It don’t seem to bother her too much. She talks to Nero an sings lit le songs to herself. Don’t know what she’s got to be so damn cheerful about.

We had some grub but not much. I pranged a jackrabbit with the slingshot a couple of days ago. Not too bad-tastin once it got roasted, special y seein how stringy it was. We managed on that til last night, but now our bel ies twist, cryin out fer food.

I always save a lit le bit of whatever we got fer Nero, but mainly he’s got a hunt. He don’t ever make a fuss, Nero, he jest gits on with it.

An the sturdy lit le wild horse of Mercy’s—name of Nudd—we’re out a the sand dunes now into grass an dry scrub, an he seems to be ndin enough to keep him goin. I might of known a creature of Mercy’s ’ud know how to take care of itself.

Food might be scarce, but it ain’t that I’m worried about most. It’s water. Our supplies is low. We cain’t seem to find no wet stuf anywhere on this mean hard plain. Even Nudd ain’t bin able to snif none out.

I’ve got us on strict rations an I’m col ectin dew overnight, but with two of us an Nero an Nudd it ain’t nearly enough.

In the far distance, I can see mountains. They look to be a day or two’s walk from here, maybe a bit more. But it’s hard to tel how far anythin is in the desert with the heat shimmer an al . I hope we’l be able to make it to there on what we got. We’l jest hafta, that’s al .

There’s bound to be water in the mountains.

Meantime, the sun beats down. The wind blows steadily. It saps my strength. My mind.

Meantime, the sun beats down. The wind blows steadily. It saps my strength. My mind.

I know we should do like Mercy said an travel by night, but I cain’t stop.

I cain’t rest. Not til I find Lugh.

We walk on.

Noon time.

I’m jest thinkin it’s time to cal a halt an take a break, when there’s a dul thud behind me. Emmi’s lyin on the ground. Nudd noses at her, whickers softly.

I trudge back. Stare down at her. My head feels so dul . Fer a long moment, I cain’t think what I oughta do. Then … water. Emmi needs water.

I kneel, drag her into my arms an uncap my waterskin. I trickle a lit le into her mouth. She moans an turns her head away.

Emmi, I croak. You got a drink. I tap her cheek. Emmi! C’mon!

I press the spout to her lips agin. Water dribbles down her chin. Then, al of a sudden, it’s like she comes to life. She grabs the skin, tries to take a big swig but I pul it away. Water spil s on the ground. The thirsty earth sucks it up.

Dammit, Em! I says. Now look what you done! She jest looks at me, dazed. Take tiny sips, I says. Or you’l git the cramp.

When I think she’s had enough, when she starts to look a bit bet er, I give Nero a drink, then l a tinny fer Nudd that he empties with two slurps of his big pink tongue.

I squeeze the skin to see what we got left. Git a sick feelin. Half a skin. That’s it. I take the tiniest sip myself, then slip it back over my shoulder.

Emmi’s sit in up. She looks at me, her blue eyes bright in her dusty face. An I wonder why I never noticed it before. Her eyes is jest like Lugh’s.

Sorry, Saba, she says.

Ferget it, I says. It was time fer a break anyway.

I’m jest liftin Emmi back onto Nudd so’s we can git goin agin.

The wind ings sand into my eyes. I pul my sheema down to pertect ’em. Wind’s pickin up agin, I says. We’l hafta watch it. I go to yank Em’s sheema down too, but she stops my hand.

What’s that? she says.

What’s what? I says.

That. She points straight ahead. Over there.

I look. A plume of dust, bout a league away, is rol in towards us.

What is it? says Emmi. Another dust storm?

I shade my eyes an squint. I dunno, I says. It’s too far away to tel yet an there’s too much dust, I … hang on.

What? says Emmi.

Looks like a sail, I says, frownin.

You mean … a sail on a boat? Like the one Lugh made fer the skif ?

Yeah, I says. That kinda sail.

But boats go on water, she says. Not on land.

The dust clears fer a moment an I see what’s comin at us. This one does, I says.

It’s a boat al right. Wel , more like a raft from the look of it. A at wooden platform ridin high o a the ground on big tires. A hut in the middle, tucked right aginst the mast. A patchwork sail bil ows out, fil ed with the wind. It’s headed this way.

They must of seen us by now. I look around. Nowhere to hide. Not a hummock, not even a rock. Flat in every direction.

I slip my crossbow of a my back. Hand the waterskin to Emmi.

Al right, Em, I says. Listen to me an listen good. If I tel you to go, you go. No questions, no backchat, no tricks. You turn Nudd around an ride out a here. Let him have his head an he’l take you back to Mercy at Crosscreek. He knows his way home. An he’l know where to nd water. If Nudd drinks it, that means it’s safe fer you to drink. D’you unnerstand?

Yes, she says.

Good. Now promise me you’l do what I say.

She hesitates. I grab her hand, look straight into her eyes. Promise me on the life of Ma an Pa. When I tel you to go, you’l go.

I promise, she says.

I fit a arrow to my crossbow. My heart bangs aginst my ribs, my knees shake, my breath comes shal ow an fast.

The landboat scuds along the plain towards us. It’s movin fast. There’s a person at the front. Leanin back, pul in hard on what looks to be a big wooden bar.

I take aim.

I can hear shoutin. As the boat races closer, I start to make out the words. Sail down! Let the sail down!

Suddenly, the top bit of the patchwork sail rips away, snatched by the wind. The rest of it col apses to the deck in a big heap.

The boat goes out a control. Anchor! yel s the voice. Throw out the anchor!

Somethin goes yin o a the back at ached to a long rope. A big chunk of metal. Looks like a big sh hook. It hits the ground an skips along behind, throwin up clouds of dust.

But the boat keeps on comin. Look out! the voice screams. Take cover!

There’s a terrible screech. One of the back tires comes free. It bounces high an goes spinnin o across the plain. The boat tips back an hits

There’s a terrible screech. One of the back tires comes free. It bounces high an goes spinnin o across the plain. The boat tips back an hits the ground with a almighty crack. It jackknifes. Skids this way, that way, shriekin an blowin dust al over the place.

I’m stil stood there, froze to the spot, my bow drawn.

Saba! Emmi yel s. What’re you doin?