The patrol’s leader elbowed his way through his men and took a cursory look at the bodies. “Sloppy work, you useless pukes! All three shots should’ve hit in a tight little group behind the ear.”
One bowman whined, “But Lieutenant Razor, sir—we killed it real good… and on the first shot, too!”
Razor kicked the bowman in the stomach, dropping him to the bloody ground gasping for air. “What’s that you were saying, bowman? That you are an absolutely worthless archer? That’s it, isn’t it? You were about to agree with me that your aim was seriously off?”
At that moment, one soldier noticed that two fingers of Seltie’s left hand moved slightly. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the dead lady is still alive.”
Vetta raised herself on her elbows to get a better view.
Razor swaggered over to Seltie. He kicked her, and she moaned faintly. “She won’t be for long. Pick her up so I can question her.”
Two soldiers pulled her upright, but she was unable to stand or even keep her head up. They let her sink back down to a sitting position. Seltie blinked twice, then opened her eyes.
“Wake up, Sevro!” Razor snapped. “What are you doing out here in violation of the travel restrictions? Where are you from? Where are you going? You don’t belong out here!” He kicked her again. “Wake up, I said!”
Seltie’s eyes could not focus. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out—there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. She squinted at the dead cougar and chuckled. So I don’t end up inside of you, after all, you mangy old cat.
The chuckle enraged Lieutenant Razor. “Answer me, you Sevro witch!”
A sergeant spoke up. “Lieutenant, sir, her throat’s all torn up. I doubt she can talk. Or breathe, even. She’ll likely be dead in a minute or two. She’s losing a lot of blood.”
Razor grabbed Seltie by the hair and wrenched her head back so he could look at her face. “Pah! You’re right, sergeant—there’s nothing left of her. Forget her—open her pack, see what she’s carrying.” He released Seltie and stomped away.
Seltie fell to the ground. She glanced toward the spot where Vetta had vanished into the brush. Were those Vetta’s eyes peering out? Seltie smiled to reassure Vetta, in case she was watching. Don’t worry, Vett. He won’t learn anything from me or my pack. Seltie thought of her husband, Cal, and how she’d cook up a batch of fresh fish when she got back. And some peach cake for dessert. After supper, we’ll sit on the porch and watch the sunset over Dolphin Bay… together… like we always do…
From her hiding place, Vetta saw her friend’s last breath escape her smiling lips. It took all Vetta’s strength to keep from sobbing. The baby, sensing her mother’s grief, stirred. Vetta forced herself to stay calm and nurse the baby, who soon drifted back to sleep. Vetta watched as the soldiers went through Seltie’s things.
“Well, sir,” a private said, “we didn’t find much—just some clothes, a little food, and a tinderbox. There’s something odd about the clothes, though—they’re too small for the Sevro woman. They look expensive, and they’re made in the Torph style. There were a few baby clothes, too, also in the Torph style.”
Razor sniffed the air and looked up and down the road. What would a Sevro woman be doing in the middle of nowhere carrying Torph baby clothes? How odd.
The sergeant suggested, “Maybe she was part of a group, and that old cougar picked them off one by one.”
“Maybe… there must be more to the story. We don’t have time to fool with it now, though—we have to get this load of goods to Buckle before the train gets there. It’s due to arrive at sunset. Get the men moving again, quickly.”
“Yes, sir.”
A private spoke up. “What should we do with the clothes and—?” He indicated the dead woman and the cougar.
The other soldiers laughed harshly. “Why do you care? Do you want to try them on, you pretty little thing, you? They might even fit—if you quit eating for a couple of months!” More laughter followed.
Razor snapped, “Enough! Fling the bodies in the ditch. The bag, too. Keep the food if you want. Head out!” He mounted the shotgun seat and ordered the driver onward. “There’ll be trouble if we keep that train waiting. We’ve got to load this freight and the wagon onto the train, and get it all back to headquarters before it spoils.”
Razor, the soldiers, and the wagon disappeared down the road toward Buckle. Silence settled over the roadway, engulfing Vetta and the baby, who was still nursing in her sleep.
No more screaming cougar, no bellowing Fessals.
No Seltie.
Vetta waited a long time until she was sure it was safe, then crawled out of the brush and went to the middle of the road. It was nearly sundown. The cool evening breeze arose, stirring the dust at her feet and seeming to blow straight through the thin fabric of her dress. Clutching her sleeping infant with one hand, she shaded her eyes with the other and scanned the horizon in all directions, straining to detect any sight or sound of the patrol—nothing.
Vetta’s heart sank in her chest. The searing pain in her badly torn shoulder brought tears to her eyes. She had an infant to care for. She had no food, no medicine, and very little strength.
And she was alone.