Briar's Thorn

Chapter Ten

The rain had washed the world clean, and the sun seemed determined to show that off by beaming out between dark clouds, lighting the dew drops on the grasses up like crystals, the contrast of bright sunspots and cold and shadow made me feel that I was caught in a dream, not quite awake.

"I hope any more rain holds off," Eris commented. "Or it will be a wet and muddy night tonight, if we don't find another shelter."

"I am almost sad to leave this house," Lark said, dousing the fire. "It was nice to be somewhere civilised again. I am tired of walking, tired of the road."

"It is nice to have clean hair again," I agreed.

I wondered how Thorn had fared overnight. I did not yet have a sense of him, so I suspected that wherever he had sheltered, it was not close by.

"Not so nice to put my dress back on," I wrinkled my nose. The sponge-clean had taken the worst from the cloth, but I suspected that when we returned to the farm, the garment was destined for the midden. The fabric had a musty smell and felt constantly damp to the touch.

But then, mother could possibly resurrect it. She had endless tricks for conserving things I had thought beyond saving.

If we ever caught up with mother. If she and father weren't in trouble, injured or dying somewhere just up the road from where we were. I sighed. This adventure was growing old, and I was ready to find what I had come to find and go back to the comforts of home.

I spotted the cairn and didn't want to admit it to my companions. Feathers and spiny weeds poked out between the stones. Not really briar, a rushed effort, and, most concerning, one interrupted or broken after the fact – the top stones lay scattered on the ground, rather than piled above.

Further along the road, we found the carcass of Maurice, still hitched to our parents' wagon. His throat had been slit, and a leg was broken. Lark reached out for my hand, and we stood there, linked, looking down at him, with fear clawing at our hearts.

"Father could have..." she said, eventually. "If he broke his leg, and father knew he would not..."

"He would not have left him hitched," I replied. "He would never have just left him hitched like this. He would have made him... you know, comfortable."

"Can you see Maurice?" she asked me. "See anything that might be helpful?"

"No, not really." He did not linger. "Animals don't tend to stay for as long. The day seems to help... move them on."

"He has not been dead long," Eris said. "There's little fly activity, and he hasn't started to swell."

"If it happened last night," Lark said, "they were so close! We were so close."

"Longer than overnight," I said. "We have not come that far from the house, and I think I would have felt it. I feel the bigger animals more, and he is known to me... I think this was before we even reached that house."

"Well," Lark drew a steeling breath. "We can't stand here and just speculate, forever. If our parents are now on foot, we're not far behind, and we have a better chance of catching up, so let's see what we can find."

Nobody mentioned the packs still strapped to the wagon and the fact our parents would never have left them behind. Fear left a metallic taste in my mouth.

Along the road, I became aware of Thorn.

"Wait," Lark said. "There are people..." I had a moment of hope, but then: "Not our parents," she added.