ChapterOne
“For God’s sake, woman, the village willstill be there if we take an hour’s break.”
Shea rolled her eyes at the soaring mountainsbefore her. This was the third rest stop the man had called forsince setting out this morning.
“We must be half way there by now,” hecontinued.
Maybe if they hadn’t stopped several timesalready or if they had moved with a purpose, but as it stood thegroup had probably traveled less than two miles. Half of thatnearly vertical. At this pace, it would take an extra half day toget back to Birdon Leaf.
And who would they blame for the delayedarrival?
Shea. Even though it wasn’t her needing tostop on every other hill when they felt a muscle cramp orexperienced shortness of breath. Since she was the pathfinder, itwas obviously her fault.
She could hear it now.
The pathfinder sets the pace. The pathfinderchooses when to take breaks. Yada. Yada. Yada.
She hated running missions with villagers.They thought that since they’d gone on day trips outside theirvillage barriers as children, they knew a thing or two about trailsigns and the Highlands in general.
It was always, ‘We should take this route. Ithink this route is faster. Why is it taking so long? Thesemountain passes are sooo steep.’
Never mind it was her that had walked thesedamn routes since the time she could toddle after the adults orthat the paths they suggested would take them right through abeast’s nest.
Nope. She was just a pathfinder. A femalepathfinder. A female pathfinder who hadn’t grown up in the samevillage as them. Obviously, she knew nothing of her craft.
The man yammered on about how they couldn’ttake another step. Any reasonable person could see how worn outthey were. She wasn’t the one carrying the gear or the tradegoods.
Whine. Whine. Whine.
That’s all she heard. Over the last severalmonths, she’d perfected the art of tuning them out without missingpertinent information.
It was all in the pitch. Their voices tendedto approach a higher frequency when they regressed to bitchingabout what couldn’t be changed. As if she could make theswitchbacks approaching the Garylow Mountain pass any less steep ortreacherous.
“We’ll take a rest once we reach the pass,”she said for what seemed like the hundredth time.
They had begged for another break since aboutfive minutes after the last one.
She had a deadline to meet. Sleep to catch.Most importantly, she didn’t think she could last another half daywith this lot.
“We’re nowhere near that pass,” the manraged.
The rest break obviously meant a lot tohim.
“It’s just over that ridge,” Shea pointedabove her.
Well, over that ridge and then another slightincline or two. It was just a small lie, really. If the man knewthe truth, he’d probably sit down and refuse to take anotherstep.
“That’s nearly a half mile away.” The man’sface flushed red.
Really if he had enough energy to be angry,he had enough energy to walk.
“Quarter mile at most.”
“We’re tired. We’ve been walking for days.First to the trading outpost and then back. What does an hour’sdifference make?”
Shea sighed. Looked up at the blue, blue skyand the soaring pinnacles of rock then down at the loose shale andhalf trampled path they’d already traveled.
“You’re right, an hour’s rest won’t make muchdifference.” His face lit up. “However, you’ve already wasted twohours today on the last two breaks. You also wasted several hoursyesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. We shouldhave been back already.”
