For that, I had no reply.
The evening light waned as Kit wandered the small cemetery in a pattern I couldn’t discern. I trailed behind him, dragging the second shovel over the grass and leaving behind a circuitous path. He stooped and studied a few of the worn headstones before coming to a stop in front of one. They were all aged, marking the resting place of oldbodies who had likely been forgotten in the passage of time.
I wondered if that knowledge soothed Kit’s guilt as he turned to me.
“I’ll get started. Get the lantern from the cart, won’t you?”
Shuffling back to the wagon, I retrieved the oil lamp from its hook beside the driver’s seat. The flame was meager, and I doubted its ability to combat the oncoming night, but it would be a risk to steal away with a corpse in broad daylight.
I returned to Kit’s side and set the lantern beside the displaced dirt already piling up. A bout of coughs raked up my sore throat and doubled me over. When I caught my breath and straightened, Kit had paused work to watch with an uneasy expression.
“Tell me again,” he said as I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.
“I’m fine, Kit.”
He shook his head. “Why don’t you rest a while longer?” It sounded more like a suggestion than a question. “I’ll let you know when I need to take a break.”
“I’ve had plenty of rest,” I protested. “And the work will go faster with two people.” When I bent to grab my shovel, Kit stepped on the handle and pinned it to the ground.
I frowned at him.
“I’ll dig,” he said. “You hold the light.”
It was slow work. Kit struggled and grunted through the labor while I reluctantly observed. The few times I went for my shovel again, I was met with a look of warning that drove me to sitting on the cold ground and shivering.
I tried not to think about how wrong it all was. Tried topretend I wasn’t ultimately to blame for forcing Kit to revisit these horrors, and that the stains they would leave on our souls would wash out in time.
When Kit stopped and bent back, stretching out what I imagined to be stiff, sore muscles, I peered into the hole. It was a few feet deep now, but there was much more to go. His hand shook as he swiped it across his forehead, speckled with sweat despite the frosty air whipping around us.
Shoving to my feet found my legs nearly numb, but I forced them to move anyway. I left the lantern on the ground and grabbed the extra shovel before Kit could say a word. He stared at me, mouth open and protest ready as I jumped down into the grave beside him.
“I’m done just holding the light,” I said, meeting his eyes sternly. “This is supposed to be done together, not alone.”
Kit’s chest heaved with ragged breaths; he looked even more exhausted up close. Still, he shook his head as he sank his shovel into the packed dirt and leaned against it.
“You’re not well,” he said gruffly.
“Neither are you!” I jabbed a finger at him. “Did you sleep a single, uninterrupted hour last night?”
I’d never known him to rest well. The few nights I tiptoed through the living room of the cottage in the wee hours, I saw him on the couch tossing and turning. The last two evenings spent sharing rooms at inns, I’d witnessed his nightmares. They left him squirming and sweating, occasionally crying out and rousing us both.
I set my stance, tightening my grip on the shovel’s handle. “Don’t try to pretend you’re fine,” I continued. “You’ve hardly eaten in days. You so much as look at food, and I’m just waiting for you to vomit.”
I didn’t point out that he’d also spent most of our journey doting on me, unable to rest or to trade off driving the cart while I was sucked into sleep for endless hours. I was tired now, too, and my chest strained through hoarse inhales. But I wouldn’t let him continue without help.
Kit sighed. “I managed like this for years before I left Ashpoint. I know my limits, and I’ll be fine. I’m not the one we should be worrying about.”
“Well, Iamworried!” I exclaimed.
A cough shook me, and I clenched my teeth to hold back more. I didn’t need to give him evidence of my weakness. I knew my limits, too, but I could push them for this. For Kit.
My throat was raw, and my swallow failed to soothe it before I continued in a softer, more earnest voice. “Kit, I don’t know where I am. I’ve never left home for this long, or gone this far.” The confession tumbled out. Things I was reluctant to tell him because Iaskedfor this, and he was so prone to blame himself for every bad thing.
I never told him this whole endeavor was Sayla’s idea. She had always been bolder than me. As much as I wanted to venture out and see the world beyond Eastcliff’s borders, I likely would have never left if not for my sister’s prompting. I would have stayed on the farm I didn’t want, doing work I was no good at, languishing behind a plow for the rest of my life.
Kit helped me escape that. He made me brave. But he was weak, too, worn thin, and if something happened to him now, so far from everything and everyone I knew, I wasn’t sure I could manage by myself.
“Without you, I’m alone out here, and that frightens me,” I admitted, and Kit’s stern look softened. “Please take care of yourself. Or let me.”
