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like breathing in freedom. Life.
    This is how I imagined it.
    A hot breath blows against my neck.
    Well, near to.
    I turn and find myself face-to-face with Isi’s horse, its soft nostrils speckled with moisture. Above the white blaze on the horse’s forehead, Isi frowns down at me. I raise my eyebrows. In response, he looks pointedly behind at the others: Sister Violet and her little boys, Daniel and Nico. Frère Andre with his battered hat and wiry beard. Kane.
    They’re all walking in the forest with looks of wonderment on their faces. They’re all walking . . .
    â€œToo slow,” Isi hisses.
    â€œThey’re just not used to being out here yet,” I say,although we’ve been walking hours at this pace and I’m not used to it yet, neither. Nishwa is scouting way ahead on his beast, doubling back, scouting ahead. Matisa brings up the rear, scouting behind from time to time, on her own horse.
    â€œWe do not have time for
getting used
to things,” Isi says, watching them with a frown.
    â€œAnd how do you suppose we speed them along?”
    â€œI wish I knew. They do not even know how to ride.”
    â€œYou wish they hadn’t come.”
    â€œDon’t you?” Isi turns his eyes on me.
    â€œCourse I’m glad they came,” I say.
    Isi studies me in that hard way of his, like he’s asking me to be sure of my words, be sure of my own mind. I hate that look. It reminds me of how often I used to fail my Honesty virtue. Shouldn’t bother me. Ever since I proved Discovery, I’ve seen the virtues in a new light. They’re not so cut-and-dried. Still, I’m relieved when he clicks his tongue and urges his horse back to Sister Violet and the boys. I sigh deep.
    Mayhap “glad” wasn’t the right word to use. Sister Violet is more determined to keep her family together than I figured. And I know why Isi’s irate. When it was only the six of us setting out—Matisa and the boys, Tom, Kane, and me—it was going to take a week, doubling on horseback. Now with so many of us walking, it’ll take closer to two. But with Kane showing up like that, all hopeful . . .
    A wave of guilt washes me as I remember Matisa’s face. She was torn; bringing them wasn’t the plan, but she could see Kane didn’t know how to refuse his ma.
    Isi was unhappy, but she convinced him it would be all right.
    And Frère Andre. Well, once Sister Violet was coming with the boys, what was one more?
    â€œJe suis âgé,”
he said.
“Je n’aurai pas d’autre chance de voir le monde.”
    It was true: he
was
old. If he wanted to see the world, coming with us was his chance. I feel a pang, thinking about him saying goodbye to his bird-boned daughter and her life mate and youngsters. She clung to him a moment with her tiny arms, but when she pulled back, she offered him a smile.
    â€œAllez-y voir le monde, papa,”
she said. Go see the world.
    I watch him stomp along, pack on his back with two rifles strapped across it. We had one rifle in our effects already, and Kane has dead-sure aim, but he hasn’t practiced much with a gun, preferring his knives. It’s good Andre came.
    But it should’ve been Tom.
    I watch Nico drop behind his ma and take Kane’s hand. Kane smiles at him and my pang disappears. At least Kane didn’t have to say goodbye like I said goodbye to Tom. The relief on Kane’s face, though, once Matisa convinced Isi—it made me happy and uneasy at once. And keeping the truth about the Bleed from him is weighing on my mind.
    Thing is, telling Kane about the Bleed now, and how we’re staying safe from it, means asking him to keep it from his ma. Can’t do that. And if he tells her, it’s not just one person Matisa has broken her vow for, it’s three. No. Matisa will keep us safe until we reach her people.
    I shove down a niggle of unease.
    Isi leans and scoops up