I looked back towards the others and saw Helena and Mischa watching me. I shrugged. They returned my gesture with looks that said I would have to tell them later.
I lay down under the stars, chilled by my bath, but otherwise sated, feeling fresh and full of food, Stefan having delivered on his promise of pear halves. I slept truly for the first time since our abduction. When I awoke early in the morning, the sun barely yet out, so as to abide by the captain’s orders and put on my damp scribe’s dress, I found a small, tin comb nestled in my right hand.
10. Horseback
Children on this continent are taught their days of the week as ten. Every tenth morning, a large star, that some call ‘the second moon’ appears in the western sky as the sun begins to rise in the east. It is larger than most stars, hence, the name. Those who chart the stars have yet to title it. But its reliable arrivals have helped people mark time for thousands of winters. The true moon waxes and wanes over these three weeks and children are also taught to refer to that amount of time as a ‘moon.’
We had been halfway through our week when abducted, so the next morning, I halfway put on my scribe’s dress, hindered by my one chained hand, combed my hair and watched for the second moon. I wanted to keep track of our days as much as I could. The men were mostly awake, quiet and methodical as they readied for the road. I looked for Alric but he was not in the camp. The comb was a strange gesture. I could not decipher it, but I was grateful.
“Is that a comb?” asked Helena as softly as she could.
I looked past River and Quinn’s sleeping forms to her and said “I found it on the ground. I think it’s a man’s comb. The teeth are small.” I tossed it to her. “We’ll all share.” I felt the need to hide Alric’s gift. But I was unsure why.
“This is so exciting. Thank you,” she answered and began to pull it through the ends of her molasses black hair. “Who would have thought a comb could elicit such—”
“Is that a comb?” hissed Mischa, further down the line.
“Hold on, you’ll get your turn,” I replied, working my own hair into a tight braid over my shoulder. “Always so impatient.”
“Always so bossy,” she said.
“Hush,” said Helena. “Must I mother you two as well as Maureen?”
“I am better behaved than Edie and Mischa,” said her daughter, sitting up.
Along the chain, the others began to wake.
“Beautiful,” said Thatcher, walking past us with a kettle swinging from his hand, his eyes on Helena. He gave her a wink.
She pretended not to notice and continued combing, but I knew she had heard him.
A loud slap echoed around the camp. Thatcher had hurled the contents of the kettle onto the pig’s wagon and steam was rising. He had made a fire in the morning and heated stream water.
“That’s as clean as I can get it for now, ladies,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Catrin, primly.
“Yes, thank you,” chorused Bronwyn and River.
“Thatcher?” I called as he began to walk away.
He turned to me, a look of surprise on his face. “Yes, priestess?”
“May I make a suggestion? If you have the time?”
He walked back towards me to stand in front of where I was shackled. “Go on.”
“There are nine of us and four draft horses harnessed to the wagon. Why not put two of us on each horse and the ninth one with one of you? Perhaps we would be faster?”
He cocked his head to the side. “This pig wagon isn’t made for speed. And it’s not what we had planned to carry—” he cut himself off. “I’ll ask Alric. I wouldn’t mind getting back on my own mount.”
“Thank you,” I said, as pleasantly as I could.
After he walked away, Eefa squawked, “I cannot ride! Nor can my mother!”
“I would think at least four of us can,” I answered her. “I can. I know Mischa can. I would think, Catrin, that you can.” I imagined her on her family estate, trotting on a pristine white steed.
“Yes, I can,” she said.
