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tongue painfully. I hoped it wouldn’t be long before we reached a proper road, where the wagon could travel more easily. Maybe we’d be able to go faster then, too. I had no idea where we were or where we were gong, but the sooner this journey was over, the better.
    A few hours later, at what I guessed might be midday, we stopped. Anazian took some things out of a bundle. Without saying a word, he gave me a small bit of dried meat—for which I didn’t thank him—and a cup of water. So far, it didn’t look as if he planned to starve me. He set the brakes on the front wheels, then walked off into the trees. I stared after him long after I’d lost sight of him in the shadows.
    Then something occurred to me that, once thought of, made me feel a bit thick for not having thought of it sooner. Anazian clearly wasn’t planning on letting me die. If that were his objective—as it had been once before—he would’ve been done with it already. He wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of caging me and taking me somewhere. No, he would’ve killed me instead of Grey.
    And the admission that Grey must certainly be dead settled like a heavy cloud on my thoughts and didn’t let go for a very long time. Would they bury him, or would they burn him on a pyre? Which would he prefer? What kind of friend was I not to know the answer to that question? And yet, why should I ever have asked it? Whenever my mind returned to its hopeful imaginings that the others had found him in time, had saved him, I told myself to stop being stupid. Accepting the truth now would make it easier to bear later.
    Anazian reappeared with a spring in his step that had been absent before. He even had a smile on his face. When he caught sight of me, he stopped mid-stride. What now? I wondered. After giving me a confused frown, he came to the side of the cage. I held my ground, quelling the urge to back away.
    “Come here,” he said. “Come closer.”
    I approached cautiously, unsure of what he wanted. He put a hand through the bars, which quivered at his touch, and stroked a thumb across my left cheek. A shiver went down my spine. Of course: the mark Rennirt had given me. In the past two days I hadn’t thought of it once; now consciousness of it came sweeping back.
    “What is this?” he asked in a quiet, bemused voice. “Fascinating.”
    I didn’t flinch from his scrutiny, but I didn’t look at him either; instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the trees behind him.
    “Well,” he said, finally taking his hand away from my face, “I see there’s a story to tell here.”
    Much to my relief, he didn’t ask me to tell it then and there. He released the brakes, took his place next to the horse on the left, and made a clucking sound.
    As soon as we were moving again, my muscles began to complain; I’d just got used to the comfortable stillness, and now it was back to jolting along.
    I lay down on my back for awhile. It was impossible to sleep, but I closed my eyes and tried to empty my mind of thoughts of Grey and Anazian and this tiresome journey, which was little more than half a day old yet.
    After awhile, I noticed a change in our surroundings. First, the leaves overhead began to thin, and the light coming through took on a green cast rather than grey. The high-pitched call of a bird pierced the air, and it was answered by another, farther off but still clear and musical.
    The air itself felt easier to breathe, as if it were free of the resentment that had been keeping it bound. It was exactly like the change of season from Winter to Spring, and it happened over the course of just an hour.
    I sat up, though my back and neck protested, and looked around to find we’d left the black woods behind. Now I recognized the trees surrounding us: oaks, birches, and pines. A movement caught my eye, and I got a glimpse of the bushy tail of a squirrel just before it disappeared.
    Unfortunately for me, the condition of the path didn’t improve, but my hopes rose for