Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run


When Last We Met: After two weeks of waiting, a chance incident with the New Resistance sends Cain reluctantly following Glitch, DG, and Raw south to Finaqua. Sent by Lavender to keep DG safe from the rebels that would rally behind her, there is little the group can do but follow the orders they have yet to understand.


Chapter Nine: On The Wind

The pre-dawn streets of Central City were empty, lifeless; whatever repercussions that would come from the night's altercation between the rebels and the royalists at the gates of the palace, they would not remain behind to witness. Once again, Cain was found to be smuggling not only himself, but those in his charge, out of the city like common thieves. This... this felt like running, and it didn't sit well with him.

Truth be told, Wyatt Cain was growing a little tired of running.

It unsettled him to no end that both Glitch and DG seemed to have lost their voices. Cain had been counting on their unique rhythms of banter to drone out his own doubting thoughts. Instead, he was left to them as he and the others were driven through the cobblestone streets. As a rule, Cain hated automobiles; his time in the iron suit had done little to change that fact. Why anyone wanted to be pressed into such close quarters with another person – or four – was too far beyond him. He kept his attention out the window, forcing himself to stare past his own reflection to see the streets and shop-fronts, lampposts and stone stoops, closed doors and iron grates and unforgiving neon light. The colours of the Gales strung up like festival banners, empty promises to a disgruntled populace.

At arms length away on the bench seat sat DG, doing as he did, watching nothing to avoid what was around her. As separated as they were, he could feel the seat shaking under the relentless jostling of her leg. Across, Glitch and Raw sat apart, one tugging at loose threads on his coat and one cringing amid the emotional duress saturating the air. It was discomfort at the most base level, and it was the longest drive of Wyatt's life.

His last view of the city was a little girl, dirty and ragged, pulling a bundle of newspapers off the back of a truck; it left him with an odd sense of familiarity, the girl and the stack of newsprint half as big as she, like he'd seen her and her twine and paper burden before. However, she was all but forgotten as the car passed through the arch; he was quite abruptly washed in the pale white light of dawn that bathed the plain outside the city walls.

Wyatt smiled to himself. A clear day, he couldn't ask for better – not that he'd taken to counting his blessings of late, no. He could do without the quiet, though, that much was dead certain.

By the time they four were out of the city, into the woods, saddled and separated from the escort, the second sun was peeping over the horizon to the west. Glitch had taken to wondering aloud how far the Brick Route would carry them before dark, and DG had made a fuss about rearranging her saddlebags to her own liking.

Cain, ignoring the two of them equally, turned to Raw. It did his heart good to see the Viewer as calm and serene as he was, breathing deep and smiling as if nothing were wrong behind them and it was nothing but rainbows ahead. No, rainbows would mean they were out of the storm, and Wyatt couldn't bring himself to be that optimistic.

Raw caught him watching. "Good day to walk the road," he said.

Cain grunted non-committally. "Hope to do a bit more than walk. Would rather this didn't take the better part of two days. We can be there by tonight if we push."

Still smiling in his enigmatic way, the Viewer shook his head. "Won't see lakes tonight. Tomorrow."

Though he heartily wanted to disagree with Raw, Cain knew better than to contest the aggravatingly knowing tone with which his friend spoke. Grumbling into his saddle blanket, he made adjustments that didn't need making until the others were mounted and ready to set off. There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm, though it wasn't unexpected. He'd never seen DG so glum, and he'd spent an increasing amount of time with her over the past fortnight. Glitch had taken to glancing nervously over his shoulder, though their drop-off point on a secluded section of southern Brick Route could almost ensure no chance company; Glitch had planned the entire excursion himself, why he was so agitated, Cain didn't have the energy to work out.

As tight-lipped and ashen-faced as they'd left the Central palace, they began their jaunt south. The low clatter of slow-moving horseshoes on ancient brick was the only sound that accompanied them. It was still early in the summer, and the wind had not yet decided how much it wanted to bluster; a gust would fiercely rustle up the branches over his head one moment and all movement would descend into eerie silence the next. Despite an unpredictable breeze, the suns were warm when they finally broke over the trees, the bright promise of an even warmer afternoon.

Still, the sense of peace didn't mean he could let his mind wander; he couldn't think about, say, the barn roof that wasn't getting shingled, or the copper buckle on the back of DG's coat that kept winking at him in the sunslight. He couldn't wonder what tune it was that Glitch had been humming for twenty straight minutes, or where in the Zone his son could be, or what was happening in Central. The minds of the others were probably occupied with exactly these quandaries – minus the worry over Jeb, of course – so it didn't do him any good to mull over them as well. He tried to keep his mind focused on the route before them, the upcoming Papay lands, and the fact that his mount baulked every time the road got boggy. These were his new worries, and he knew he should learn them well.

The first hour saw them put good distance behind, though the second was slower. Conversation trickled, and the heaviness in the air grew until even Raw was trying to engage DG in some semblance of socialising; just as Wyatt and Glitch had, Raw came up empty, and eventually fell back into his own contemplative silence. If she was pouting or ignoring them, tongue-tied with worry or exhaustion, or still smarting over this abhorrent exile, she wasn't about to let them know.

Mid-morning saw temperatures rise, and the breeze settled into consistency. A little more than a span's reach from the Fields of the Papay, Cain called for a break to rest the horses.

He tried to swallow a smile as he dismounted, listening to DG and Glitch grumble about the ache starting in their respective backsides. It was the most he'd heard out of the two of them since the hours before leaving the city.

"We'll take it slow and easy across the fields," he said for the benefit of the others. "We'll make up whatever lost time once we're out."

DG frowned at him. "Did the Papay post a speed limit on the Brick Route?"

This time, he did nothing to hide his smile, though he had enough common sense to keep himself from chuckling at her. "People who go about disrespecting the fields usually find a chunk missing outta their ankle before they've got time to reconsider."

Having ample experience with the Papay, DG swallowed hard and didn't argue the point any further.

The brutal, honest truth – though he wasn't about to share it with his companions – was that they had to play it cautious; Papay in general were unpredictable at best, and though the packs closer to home in the northeast expanse took no notice of human presence these days (for the most part), he didn't know how territorial the runners in the south were likely to be. With any luck – not that he'd ever had much to brag about, mind you – the scouts would recognise DG and she'd be left to pass peacefully. In the event they were chased down by ravenous runners, he'd rather have a well-rested horse. The walk through the fields was going to eat up a lot of sunslight, but they could make it up when they reached the safety of the far side.

The thought of entering the Fields of the Papay didn't seem to be disturbing anyone too greatly; that alone gave Cain reason to pause and watch them all a little more closely. If there was trepidation at all, he didn't see it. Were Glitch and DG still so caught up in what they'd left in Central City that the dangers of the road ahead didn't concern them in the least?

Lavender, he knew, weighed heavier on their minds than the averred rebel threat that had sent them on their unmerry way. Even the threat of gnashing teeth and fierce claws did nothing to jar them into reality.

It was going to be a long, lonely afternoon.


The Fields of the Papay stretched on into forever. The morning fog had all but dissipated, leaving naught but clarity for all the eye could see. The orchards themselves were nearing the end of their blooming, and the ground at the abrupt edge of the field was scattered with delicate white petals.

On the hill overlooking the foaming sea of blossoming branches, the group stopped to gather their bearings.

Cain wasn't about the be lulled into a false sense of idyllic peace for all the petal fall, the sound like snow, like dry paper confetti. The fruit had yet to set, the harvest was undetermined. He and his charges would not be safe until they reached the far side and the dark, tangled forest beyond. To think that the damnable forest and unforgiving bog could be considered safe.

DG was notably distracted, and his gut knotted at the thought of yet another dreamy saunter through Papay hunting grounds. While the others were mounting, he hung back to help her, offering up a hand. She stared at it, as if it could grow teeth and bite her any moment.

"You still with us?" he said, lifting his chin so that she might have a better view of his face from under the brim of his hat.

She gave him a practised smile. He could recognise them almost instantly now. Rare, it was, to work a real smile out of her.

"'Course I am, where else am I going to be?"

He smirked, and retracted his hand. He stepped around her, forcing her to turn to keep watching him, as he instead stood shoulder to shoulder with her horse; he took the reins in hand to keep the mare steady so DG could mount. Still, however, the girl made no move, keeping a fair amount of suspicious gaze on him.

"I could've sworn we left most of you behind in Central City."

She said nothing, but crossed her arms over her chest defensively, her biggest tell.

"Kiddo, I know how worried you are about your mother," he began; he sighed and pressed his tongue against his teeth as he realised he didn't quite know where to go from there. He couldn't sugar-coat the truth, nor could he avoid the ugly or the frightening. He knew she didn't need reminding, that she knew exactly what was at stake. "We need you here with us, not fretting over something you can't do nothin' about."

DG inhaled sharply, remained silent. Her eyes lowered to the ground, keeping tabs on every blade and shoot underfoot.

"I need your eyes and ears open," he said. "The going might be slow but you're gonna have to be alert for every minute of it. You don't dismount, not for anything; I don't care if a kid drops out of the trees in front of you, you stay on your horse." He tightened his grip on the reins. "Now saddle up, darlin'."

She complied easily, but her arms and legs were shaking as she pulled herself up into her saddle. "How long will it take?" she asked, distracting him with her question; as he looked toward the orchard below them, out of the corner of his eye he caught her swiping at her cheeks.

"Should be outta there by mid- to late-afternoon. Depends on what we run into."

"Or what runs into us."

He looked up at her and smiled, his hand moving up to her leg to give it a comforting squeeze before he'd even realised it was the sort of gesture he was better off avoiding. His hand rested just above her knee a second too long; in that briefest instant, she caught his eyes and he was near rendered senseless with the force and depth of her confusion. Was he torn by the hurt he found, or shamed by that dying glimmer of hopefulness? He didn't know. Nor could he figure out why it took him so damn long to move his hand and walk away.

Glitch and Raw, in good form, pretended to have been otherwise occupied through the entire thing, though Cain knew – as surely as he knew the Papay had already taken notice of their party on the hill – that they'd greedily witnessed the whole of it. There was no explaining away the knowing smiles, the dopey shaking of heads. By the time he was mounted, he was growing increasingly agitated with his circumstances, and he left the others behind to follow him or not as he led his mount down the gentle, loose slope into the fields.

As soon as he'd passed through the first row of trees, weaving onto the broad avenue the Brick Route cut through the orchard, it was if the rest of the world had disappeared beyond the canopy of spreading branches and pink-tinged blossoms. The orchard floor, carpeted in felled petals, muffled the clatter of their horses. If the quiet of the morning had troubled him, this newer quiet eased him, seeped into his skin and –

He gave his head a rough shake. No doubt the magic of the fields, to safeguard the trees against predation. Not that such natural defences helped when the land sickened and died. But now, for all it mattered, they were surrounded by an abundance of light and life. The thin branches that reached over his head were verdant and utterly dripping with flowers; as far back as he could remember, he'd never seen the branches droop so low before the fruit had started to plump and ripen. It was as if the land was trying to give recompense for the annuals of barren soil and empty branches.

Still, the fields were not without their caretakers, the grangers turned hunters; ornery, wild, and impossibly fast. As the minutes melted into the first hour, the far-off barks of the Papay stayed at a steady, albeit wearying, distance, though he caught more movement at his periphery than made him feel altogether secure. They came across no traces of the beasts themselves, no snared prey, no puddles of oozing bile. Just the calls of the runners, always a little too close for comfort, and the feeling of cautious, watchful eyes ever on his back.

The suns passed overhead, their paths never meeting in the sky. Was he supposed to feel as relieved as he did, to see the twins grow a little farther and farther apart each day? After his long annuals of imprisonment, he could honestly say he might die without the sunslight; just the mere two weeks in Central had left him starved for their pure, unfiltered light. He could almost hear a whisper of agreement from the fields as the breeze kicked up the branches around him, the rush of leaf, twig, and petal deafening. Caught in a flurry of falling white and pink, he reined his horse to a halt, and turned in his saddle to watch the others' reactions to the sweet-smelling gale.

Glitch was preoccupied in a never-ending battle to brush his lapels clean; Raw's face was split into such a grin that his white fangs glinted in the sunslight, his head thrown back as petals caught in his beard. And then... and then there was DG, pale and glancing up at the canopy nervously, surrounded by blossoms and knowing only thorns.

"This doesn't feel right," she said, loud enough to be audible over the sway and creak of branches.

Glitch laughed at her. "This is nothing short of amazing," he said, looking around appreciatively at his friends covered in velvety specks of white. He seemed to have given up his quest to stay clean. "Do you know how long it's been since the last petal fall, DG? Do you know how blessed we are to see this?" He was positively giddy.

DG, however, was far from convinced. Despite himself, Cain had to agree with her.

"I think 'blessed' might be stretchin' it a bit too far, Glitch."

"Glitch right," Raw interjected.

"No, that's not what I mean," DG said, shaking her curls dappled with petals in stark contrast. Somewhere between Central City and where they now stood, she'd let her hair down, more like herself with the wild cascade of dark locks reaching halfway down her back. Cain had never found it easy to talk with her when she was dolled up like the lady of high standing she was; as herself, just a girl, loose hair and scarf untied, gloves lost along the road, his footing felt surer.

Cain sighed, his gaze set on the princess. "What d'you mean, DG?"

Instead of responding, she drew in her bottom lip and worried it with her teeth. Now both Glitch and Raw watched her as well, seeking the answers she refused to give in her face, and finding only frown and furrow and faithlessness. To Cain, it was as if she were biting her lip only to stop the slew of questions that wanted to come tearing out. She could drill them until her throat was hoarse, but it wouldn't do any good, and sure as the suns, she knew it.

There was a bark then, close enough to bristle. After it, another sound broke, the harsh, piercing call of a raptor closer still, unseen over their heads; warnings, damn it, why had they stopped?

"Enough of this Sunday amblin'. We can talk on this later," he said, eyes levelled on the kid, wanting her to know he meant what he said. He knew there was nothing he could say to take the dazed, sorrowful veil from her face, but he'd never get her moving if she didn't have the motivation. This wasn't searching, this was running. "Once dark comes, we'll talk."