Page 76 of Last Rites

Without ceremony, he shifted the grain sack from his shoulder and dropped it squarely into my arms. The weight nearly knocked me backward, but I hefted it to my own shoulder and locked my knees before I could topple.

The guard seemed satisfied as he turned to the stable hand. “Sorry for the bother. Didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

The stable hand bobbed his head while resting a hand on the knife now tucked at his belt.

With a sharp clap of his hands, the guard turned to me. “All right, lad. Off you go. Best get that to the wagon before your legs give out.”

He made a shooing motion, and I pivoted under the load, staggering a step before finding my rhythm.

Each stride pulled at my shoulder, and I swallowed a groan. Strong back, I internally scoffed. By the time we reached the cart, I would be as hunched as a brittle old man. Still, the thought of Kit laughing at the sight, and at my expense, was enough to make the burden worth it.

28

Kit

After the unplanned foray into town, we only stopped a few hours each of the next four nights. We weren’t allowed to leave the cart except to relieve ourselves in the trees and, even then, we did it under close watch. The only exception our guards made was for Isla when she offered to brew some tea to help keep the watchmen awake during their shifts.

She played unassuming better than the rest of us.

During the days, we were all miserable. The heat swelled the higher the sun rose, and by midday we were all sweating, uncomfortable, and irritable. Not to mention the dread and anxiety that grew in me with every passing mile until I was nearly sick with it.

The guards fared a bit better. They got at least a few hours rest on the ground instead of the wooden floor of the cart. Still, even they were terse and short with us by the time we pulled off the road outside of Forstford just past dusk and set camp.

“I can’t wait to sleep on the ground,” Penny said. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

I helped him down from the cart, then accepted the pile of bedrolls one of the guards dumped into my outstretched arms. Another guard similarly loaded Penny up with the sack of provisions, and Rosie and Isla helped the other two gather wood to build a meager fire. We were too close to town for anything sizable. Besides, the balmy nights also meant we were more likely to be too warm than to need to chase away a chill.

While Penny deposited his burden near the makeshift fire pit, I spread out the bedrolls. They looked inviting after days cramped in the cart, but I wouldn’t be doing any sleeping that night.

Still, I couldn’t help a smile when Penny eyed the space between our blankets with a scowl. He scooted his over until it touched mine, then gave an approving nod.

“That’s better.”

Once camp was set, we shared a tense supper before dispersing to our bedrolls.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” one of the guards called over as Penny and I sat on our makeshift bed. “We’ll rest here until full dark, and then you’d best be ready to prove your faith.”

Rosie scowled at the man before claiming the bedroll on Penny’s left and stretching out on her back. Her shoulders remained stiff even after she crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.

Penny tugged on my arm.

“Come on. You need sleep.”

We both settled down, and a grunt escaped as I stretched my aching back. Penny tucked himself into my side, his head pillowed on my shoulder and his arm draped across my chest.

It was too warm for so much contact, but I curled my own arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. I wasn’t sure how many more nights we’d get, and I wasn’t willing to waste a single moment.

“You’re tense,” Penny murmured against my shoulder.

“Can you blame me?”

He shook his head.

“Try to get some sleep,” I told him. “Better to face the horrors at least somewhat rested.”

He shuddered, and I squeezed him tighter.

I hated that there was nothing I could do to protect him from the blaze we’d soon be unleashing on Forstford. He’d struggled for weeks after the fire in Wendwood, and now here we were, facing it down again. Only this time, we were striking the match.