They entered the trees, and she glanced back a few times to make sure the gambler hadn’t doubled back, but as long as the road was in sight, she didn’t see James again. In a gamble with herself, she’d bet that if they continued on the road, they would encounter James, very soon. He would pretend to have sprained an ankle or another excuse to travel again with them.
Why would a gambler wish to travel with her and Thief so badly? She thought about it as they traveled parallel to the road, or as close as possible while using any paths, trails, or tracks that went in the general direction. They traveled slower, but Anna enjoyed it more.
Often the paths went through where the trees were so large and close together that the path was a tunnel in a sea of green undergrowth, still a new experience for her. Looking up revealed only glimpses of blue sky, and the ground felt damp as if it never fully dried. For a girl from the drylands, the change was a wonderland. When a deer vaulted completely over the path without its hooves touching the ground in her sight, it was almost magic.
“That way,” Thief pointed.
She realized that with the twists and turns of the paths they followed, she had managed to lose her sense of direction. She took the path Thief indicated, but still felt she should have gone straight. Later, when she caught sight of the sun and reconciled her direction, she realized Thief had been right.
Thief reached out and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and forced her to her knees. About to protest, she heard a man whisper only ten steps ahead. The sound of his voice told her where he was, and her eyes picked out two men in deep shadow moving across their path slowly, each with a bow at the ready.
They hadn’t spotted her and Thief, she realized. They were deer hunting, probably, but the tans and brown colors she and Thief wore blended into the background of the trees and shade. It would be easy for them to be mistaken for deer and have arrows flying at them so she prepared to begin shouting and yelling if spotted.
As she watched them continue their hunt, with no desire to point out the way the deer had fled, she realized her vulnerability more than ever. Thief tapped her shoulder and pointed the way, again. They moved quickly, not running, but not walking, either. They moved quietly in the direction the hunters came from.
“Smoke.” She smelled it first and hissed the word. They halted and sniffed the air. It was gone, but she was sure.
Thief leaned closer to hear her. “Probably downhill.”
“Why?”
“Water.”
Fire and water, the two requirements of any good campsite. Thief had a way of making two or three words sound like an entire conversation. She went first. Not long after, she sniffed smoke again. From the edge of a clearing, they watched a campsite with a fire nearly burned out. As Thief predicted, it lay beside a small, but fast flowing stream.
There were three drying racks holding strips of meat. Under the racks were smaller fires, the smoke from each drifting upwards and smoking the meat. She wanted some. Nobody was around, and the two hunters were moving away from the camp when last seen. She edged closer and felt Thief’s hand on her shoulder again, fingers digging into her flesh.
“Just a few strips,” she hissed.
He held her still as he shook his head. He was probably right. A stray footprint or the hunters noticing the missing meat might have her answering uncomfortable questions if they decided to give chase. Besides, stealing was stealing, no matter the amount.
The smallest movement caught her attention. A man stood directly opposite of them across the clearing. He had been kneeling beside the stream, probably getting himself a drink. He was a tall, thin man wearing a shaggy beard and dirty shirt. Not just the shirt was dirty. He had smoke and grease stains from foot to head. The skinning knife he carried was larger than a small sword. He strode to a woodpile and used it to chop green branches into firewood, and he fed those to the various fires.
Anna had seen others like him in Fleming. Their eyes followed her when she walked. It was not the tangled beard or dirty clothing that put her off. It was something in his eyes. A vacant, slightly angry expression that told the world he was not happy with it. His scowl filtered all he saw.
She felt, more than heard, Thief easing a few steps away each time the man in the clearing turned his head so Thief wouldn’t be seen in his peripheral vision. Anna started doing the same, making sure each movement didn’t make a sound, or that her feet never stepped on a branch likely to snap and warn him.
When they were far enough away to make sure he couldn’t see them, they walked faster. The day was nearly over, and she wanted distance between them. After climbing a small hill and pausing to catch their breath, Anna caught sight of the road winding along the shallow valley, on the other side where the river flowed.
A collection of five houses and two barns clumped together drew her attention. Glancing at Thief, she wondered if he had ever slept on a real straw bed or eaten a full meal. She touched the bulge of her purse. “Come on, follow me.”
She avoided the road while skirting the open pastures as well. Walking out in the open allowed anyone looking her way to see her. Instead, she walked down a hedgerow to a line of trees, then to the rear of the building where she’s seen a large wooden sign swinging in the breeze over the door.
She’d seen signs hanging like it before. Peeking around the edge of a building she found it had a crude image of a black rabbit made with a hot iron. That made it the Black Rabbit Inn, windows aglow with yellow light from many candles already burning, and a meat stew cooking that had her drooling.
“This way,” she ordered, darting across the road and pulling up to a small window instead of entering. Knowing who might be inside was only reasonable. There might be soldiers of the King, a band of slavers, or others, who were worse. She peeked inside from the bottom corner of the window and found a large room with two long tables and crudely made chairs on either side. Across the room ran a bench the entire length of the room. Four people sat in the room, a man and wife at one end of a long table, and two men playing Tac at the other, pushing the tiles into the center between sipping ale.
She pulled away. One of the men had his back to her, but from the clothing and posture, it was James. She peeked inside again. He turned his head enough for her to see the large nose and she ducked, cursing softly. The light was failing, and she pointed to the trees at the end of another pasture. They were almost there when a door opened, and someone kicked a dog outside.
The door slammed closed as the dog caught the scent of them. They headed for the trees at a run, hoping the dog would give up when they were out of sight, but it didn’t happen. The dog followed and chased them, barking its warning to all ears in the hamlet. It was a guard dog, large and trained to pull down intruders. The inn probably had a lot of wanderers without the coin, trying to steal ale or food.
The dog gained on them. Thief stopped and spun, arms held wide to prevent the dog from reaching Anna. He ordered the dog to stop in a gruff voice. Snarling, the dog charged ahead and leaped, teeth bared, going for Thief’s throat.
Thief fell backward as if he stumbled. The dog flew over him, slashing and biting air. But as it flew past, Thief’s hand suddenly reached out. His fingers wrapped around the foreleg of the dog and grasped it firmly. As the dog continued its fall, Thief pulled the leg and twisted.
A snap of bone was followed by the wailing of the dog as it lay, one leg now at an odd angle. Anna started to go to it, but the dog saw her and snapped, trying to bite her while frothing at the mouth in its attempts to reach her.
Thief pulled her away. How could he do that to a dog?