Page 72 of Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

Dak watched her from his chair in the front room. He didn’t pack, and she found she didn’t much care.

When she was ready to go, she said goodbye to everyone, invited them to stay at her household in Haven, and promised Abe she’d send supplies to replace what she and Dak had used. She’d get herself assigned as messenger and bring them herself, and he gave her a hug and said that’d be fine.

Dak had disappeared through all this. She found him outside, after she slung her pack and rolled blanket on her shoulder and was ready to set out. She figured he was hiding so he wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

“Hola,” she said. He stood a few paces out on the footpath, arms crossed, looking off at the horizon like some hero in a story.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t rest a few more days? You still look off.”

Off? And what did that mean?

“I really have to get back. They’ll need help,” she said, thinking of Peri and Tomas and everyone at Plenty. If the rains had been as bad there as they’d been here, roads could have washed out, trees fallen, who knew what else.

“They’ll be fine, Enid. There’s plenty of people there who can take care of it. They don’t need you.”

That punched her in the gut. By that definition—could they survive without her?—then no one needed her. No one needed anybody, not really. But that wasn’t the point.

“You saying you do need me, is that it?” she asked wryly. Because it sounded like he was asking her to stay. But she didn’t believe him. Wouldn’t, unless he asked outright, and he’d never do that.

“Dak, I want to go home.” Then, more calmly. “Do you want to come?”

“No, Enid. I can’t. I can’t go any farther, not right now.”

He seemed to be pleading with her. Like she was supposed to tell him she would stay, just because. And if she wanted him to come with her? What about that?

“Well. Good luck, then,” she said. “Maybe we’ll run into each other.”

“Yeah.”

They should kiss or something. Or hug? There wasn’t a guarantee they’d ever see each other again. Well, he would always know where to find her—just go to Haven and ask. But by the same token, he would always know how to avoid her, and that would say something, too, wouldn’t it? This ought to be a sad moment.

She reached out her hand because that seemed like a g

ood compromise. He clasped it, then leaned in for a kiss, warm lips pressing against her cheek. He lingered, waiting for her response. For her to tilt her head toward him, invite another kiss.

All she did was give him a thin smile. She walked away and didn’t look back.

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By now, Enid had spent a lot of time walking. She might have been so tired her muscles felt like wood, but she kept going, because the movements were so familiar. Easy, really. Sometimes easier than stopping. And the sun felt marvelous. She turned her face to it, letting it paint her skin with heat and turn her closed eyelids red and glowing. Part of her had worried that she would never feel it again.

A few days to get to Haven. If she walked faster, might she make it quicker? If she kept walking through the night? That probably wasn’t the best idea. Or maybe it was—she’d never find a dry spot after that storm. Gullies that had been nearly dry a few months ago were roaring. Mudslides had taken out some hills. The slash of a fresh temporary creek bed cut a swath through one ten-foot stretch of road. Enid noted the location as best she could, so she could get word to a crew to come out to shore it up. And see what she had to do about helping restock the way station. They’d be out of supplies, after helping so many people. She was sure Plenty had some surplus stores they could send. Assuming Plenty was all right and hadn’t washed away in the storm.

She walked faster.

Other travelers were on the road, too, more as she approached Haven. A woman about her age cantered up on a sturdy gray horse, sloshing through mud, and pulled to a stop to greet her.

“What’re things like farther on?” She was dressed for weather, a hat hanging on her back, with a heavy cloak and saddlebags stuffed with supplies.

“Wet,” Enid answered. “Road’s washed out in a few places. The way station half a day’s walk is in good shape and taking care of folk. They haven’t gotten word from farther out yet. You been through Haven?”

“No, I’m from out east. We’re okay, looks like the hills got the worst of it, but I thought I’d get out and ride my usual rounds, see if anything needs doing.” She was a messenger and knew the roads around here well. But Enid wished she had word from Haven.

“I’m headed for Haven if you have anything for there,” Enid said. She did, a couple of messages, folded squares of paper marked for Haven’s committee. She’d planned on dropping them at the way station for the next messenger going north, but Enid would do just as well.

“What about you?” the rider asked. “You have everything? Food and water?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

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