They reach the arch-like peak long after the sun has set, but even in the dark, she notices that the bases of each pillar are riddled with strange symbols, half-hidden behind strategically placed rocks.
“We should make camp somewhere, give Journey a break.”
Ziggy flashes once.
She searches around for a well-hidden site, close enough to the arch-like structure but far enough to give her a semblance of security. There’s a trickle of water running past the area she chooses. Some grass, too. It’s better than nothing.
She dismounts, walks through the thick foliage, and leads Journey to graze nearby.
“Keep your light dim,” she whispers as Ziggy reaches her side.
One dim flash answers.
Rachel takes off her backpack and drops it at the base of a tree before stretching her legs and back. Her thighs ache from being on Journey the whole day, while her lower back screams for a soft bed. She walks around a while, fills her water bottle, and moves back to where she left her backpack.
No way will she sleep tonight. Not with that Halfling still alive and relatively well. He’s probably already looking for her and his horse. He’s probably contemplating his revenge. That’s what she would have been doing if he’d—
“Could you do a perimeter check?” she asks Ziggy.
The Fae light bobs away and circles the area she’s chosen for the night.
“Relax. You’re fine,” she whispers. “Hopefully tomorrow, you’ll find Orion. Then you can go home.”
Time ticks on and night closes in. A laugh echoes through the forest, distant but undoubtedly male. A command is shouted somewhere else. Rachel listens, anticipating the sounds will grow louder and more volatile. Nothing of the sort happens. There’s smoke in the air, notes of food drift along on a breeze. Her stomach rumbles, wanting a proper meal. A bird sings. Soon, the darkness deepens, grows silent.
Ziggy settles at her side and she tickles the top of the sphere with her fingertips, unable to shut her eyes even for a minute.
Long before dawn, Rachel mounts Journey and heads back to the arch, following Ziggy’s bobs and weaves.
“Please don’t be a gateway. Please don’t be a gateway. Please don’t be a gateway,” she whispers her mantra, squeezing her eyes shut as they move through the opening.
When no weird sensation comes, she opens her eyes. Hundreds of white tents lie at the bottom of the road, circles placed within circles, stretching as far as the eye can see. Smoke trails up from the settlement, but there is no movement in the spaces between.
Rachel looks up the side of the arch, spying a vacant watchtower carved from the mountain itself. She scans the area for clues as to what type of settlement she’s venturing in to. It’s early enough to go unnoticed, but there’s no telling what they’ll do when they see her.
She finds the compact mirror and opens it, waits for an image of a tent to materialize on the smooth surface, an indecipherable flag fixed above the entrance. The image of Orion is obscured by pre-dawn darkness.
Rachel shuts the mirror and replaces it in her pocket as Journey trots toward the quiet, sleeping campsite. She searches for a tent with a flag above its entrance, for anything remotely official. Maybe she’ll get lucky.
Are humans even tolerated around here?
Her growing anxiety makes her feel like she’s swallowed a rock as she approaches the settlement.
Journey slows her advance as the first tent comes up.
A couple of horses graze in a small clearing. Embers burn in a nearby fire pit. Journey moves expertly through the open space, sliding between tents as if having done so a million times.
Rachel continues searching for a flag. When she sees none, she maneuvers Journey deeper into the settlement, where she instead finds a wooden weapon rack, full of swords and spears and axes.
Journey travels through to another inner-circle, where a sleeping, uniformed man occupies a chair near an extinguished fire. She veers away from the soldier, earning herself a bump from Ziggy. The Fae light rushes in between two tents, the space too small for a horse.
Gritting her teeth, she halts Journey and dismounts.
First I fail the SATs, then I steal a horse—although technically it’s not the first time I’ve done that—and now I’m sneaking around a military camp. What’s next?
She carefully follows Ziggy deeper into the camp, ducks behind white canvasses, sprints through open spaces, all while scanning the entrances for the nondescript flag.
The morning grows brighter as the sun crests the horizon, and people begin rustling inside the tents.
Rachel’s heart beats faster and terror pushes to the forefront of her thoughts. What if Orion isn’t here anymore? With her sneaking around a military encampment, the only logical conclusion anyone can make is she’s an enemy spy, and there’s a good chance the enemy is King Nova. They might very well execute her.
Ziggy bobs in midair before bouncing off the sides of the stretched fabric.
Get down, you suicidal lightbulb.
Rachel peers around the tent just as a soldier walks into the open. She jerks back into the shadows, praying he didn’t see her, and makes herself as small as possible in the shadows. Footsteps approach.
“Wake up, scoundrels,” comes a commanding voice from somewhere behind her. “The general wants three scouts to head out within the hour. I volunteered you sorry lot for the mission. Get dressed.”
Footsteps pass her hiding place and fade into the distance. Groans and yawns come from within the tent she’s using as cover.
Rachel sucks in a breath through her gritted teeth, and risks taking another look. The area clear, she sprints to where she last saw Ziggy and hides behind a stack of wooden crates labeled: BUMBLEBERRY WINERIES.
“Ziggy,” she whispers. Rachel inches around the crates, careful not to bump into anything and alert the entire army to her presence. “Zigs?”
Ziggy glides into view before rounding the tent again.
Her jaw stiffens with irritation.
Rachel follows Ziggy
