Seltie chuckled. “But look, Vett—we’ve come twelve miles already! Twelve whole miles! That’s a pretty good day, considering we woke up late and we’re carrying a baby. At this rate, we’ll be in Feyar City in…” Her eyes rolled up as she worked the math in her head. “Twenty-five days—three weeks, or thereabouts.”
“Three weeks!” Vetta’s shoulders drooped. “That’s a long time, especially carrying this little one. I don’t know if I can do it, Tee.”
“Of course you can! It’s not that much, really. Twelve miles is only about four hours of walking. We’ll do two in the morning, then have a rest, and another two in the afternoon. Piece of cake!”
Vetta said nothing, but she looked doubtful.
“Speaking of which,” Seltie continued with exaggerated enthusiasm, “it’s about time to find a place to settle down for the night.”
“Tee? What about army patrols? Won’t they be watching these roads?”
Seltie nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. We could walk off the road, in the woods, but I reckon that would take twice as long. Or we could travel the road only at night, but that wouldn’t guarantee that we wouldn’t be seen. Also, walking in the dark would slow us down, too. I think it’s best that we risk the roads during the day, so we can walk quickly and safely, then make our camps far enough into the woods that our fire won’t be visible from the road. We’ll make tiny little fires out of small, dry sticks that won’t smoke much.”
“But what if we actually do run into a patrol?”
“We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open, and if we see or hear anything, be prepared to dash into the woods and find a place we can hide. I expect those patrols will make plenty of noise and we’ll hear them long before we can see them.”
Just as the sun was setting, they found a suitable campsite. It was nearly a hundred yards into the brush, and a large boulder blocked the view from the highway.
They made a small, smokeless fire and, in no time at all, Seltie prepared a delicious stew made from some of Vetta’s jerky and various herbs and roots they had gathered during the day. They ate quickly and laid out their bedrolls between the boulder and the fire. The boulder blocked the wind and reflected the heat of the fire, so their tiny camp was quite cozy.
After they were all snuggled in and ready to sleep, Vetta said, “Tee, I must ask a great favor of you: if, for any reason, I don’t survive this trip, please promise you will give my daughter my diary and my medallion.”
“Nonsense! Nothing’s going to happen. Best you don’t talk such dark stuff.”
“I’m serious, Tee. It will put my mind at ease to hear you promise.”
Seltie squirmed and muttered, “Oh, very well, I promise. But I’m telling you: nothing’s going to happen. We’ll get to Feyar City just fine, you and me. So let’s not talk of it anymore.” She rolled over and promptly went to sleep. A while later, Vetta and the baby fell asleep, too.
For the next twenty-four days, their long journey was as pleasant as they could have hoped for. Seltie’s strategy of small, smokeless fires far from the road was successful—they attracted no attention whatsoever. They never saw or heard any passing patrols, or anyone at all, for that matter. They seemed to have the road and the woods and the marshes all to themselves.
Vetta rapidly regained her full strength after her wild birthing experience. She and the baby proved to be excellent travelers. The as-yet-unnamed baby enjoyed being carried and looking at the scenery between nursing and napping. Every night after supper, before the light of the campfire faded, Vetta wrote a detailed account of the day in her journal, always using her medallion to mark portions of it.
On the evening of the sixteenth day, they came upon what Seltie judged to be an ancient resting place for travelers. Alongside a lovely bubbling spring, there were old stone tables and benches, and even traces of fruit trees. But this resting spot was too close to the road to use as a campsite.
They were making good time. Food and water were plentiful along the way. Safe campsites were abundant. Another nine days brought them, according to Seltie’s calculations, within ten to twenty miles of Feyar City. On the morning of the twenty-fifth day, they passed through the ruins of a small town. It appeared to be on the junction of a minor east-west road made of steel rails mounted on thick wooden crossbeams. They’d crossed two other such roads on their journey, but couldn’t guess their purpose.
A weathered and cracked wooden sign hanging on a badly rusted chain showed that the town’s name had been Buckle. Now there was only a rickety water tower and a shed or two stocked with firewood and a few barrels.
Seltie shivered.
“What is it, Tee?”
“I’m getting a funny feeling—let’s get away from here.” She grabbed Vetta by the hand and pulled her up the road away from the town, all the while scanning the horizon anxiously.