“Rest while you can,” the Dog answered, then said no more.
Fen jolted awake at the sound of a new voice, embarrassed beyond measure to realize he’d fallen asleep with his face pressed to the Wild Dog’s shoulder.
“Oh,” he exhaled in worry, trying to pull away though there was only so far he could go. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
His small apology was not acknowledged. The Wild Dog was asking questions. The group of three was now four, and Race was fussing over someone called Dol who was trying to respond to Heni and the Wild Dog while also answering Race.
“Ankle slowed me down. Didn’t mean to make you worry. Truly, Race, be calm. I’m well enough. It’s no one’s fault but my own for stumbling in the dark of night.” Dol had an accent almost like Fen’s mother’s although his voice held tension, as if his pain was considerable. Despite that, he seemed amused about something. “What would it take formeto be carried?”
“A pretty face and a voice like sweets forbidden to be touched before a feast day,” Heni answered in a snappish tone. “That branch you found seems to be serving as a decent crutch.”
“You’re also three times his size, my darling bear,” Race added. Fen turned his head to hear better, but couldn’t determine if that pet name had been said seriously or in the same way that Race called Fen ‘flower.’ “But we need to get you someplace where you can be off your feet, and well, we’re in a bit of a hurry now. Can I offer my shoulder?”
“Myshoulder would do better,” Heni interjected. “Apologies, Race, but this will require height. I’d bind the ankle too, but Ati will kill me if I make the injury worse.”
“I could still help,” Race insisted and did not sound as if he was smiling. The others did not seem to hear him.
Fen tried to follow Race’s direction as Race walked off, twisting around as if that would help him see.
“I told you to rest,” the Wild Dog cut into that, quiet but final. He must have been tired too, but tightened his hold on Fen’s legs.
Fen put his head back down and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t want the others to hear, although judging from how Dol and Heni called after Race, they weren’t paying attention to Fen anymore.
“Not much longer now,” the Wild Dog remarked, and Fen had been wrong, the otherswerepaying attention to him.
“Imagine if The Maben saw you now, Lan,” Dol remarked, his breathing strained, probably from pain as they all resumed walking. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
The Maben could not see them now, since The Maben was trapped inside the holding the Wild Dog had left him in. But an Earl defeated by such a manwouldlikely be very surprised to see that man now carrying the son of an Earl in his arms.
“Would he laugh at you?” Fen asked the Wild Dog in concern. “Then you should not carry me.”
“I take no orders from Earls—or their cubs.”
It was said softly.
The other two abruptly went silent as if the softness had been a warning. Fen turned his head, the cloth of his blindfold brushing part of the Wild Dog’s cloak or maybe his beard. He hoped his hands weren’t trembling again.
If they were, no one remarked on it. They all walked on, slower than before but steadily. Race might have reappeared, though Fen could not hear him. Dol and Heni whispered. The Wild Dog’s breathing grew harsher. Fen eventually fell asleep to the sound, waking only whenever they stopped again.
Three
When enough sunlight broke through the trees for Fen to feel warmth even in places where he was not pressed to the Wild Dog, he was finally set back on his feet, although still not permitted to see. They did not want Fen to know their path, as though Fen could tell one tree from another and would ever be able to find his way through the woods on his own.
He was given a piece of bread, possibly his own handed back to him, which he ate quickly so he could focus on keeping pace behind the Wild Dog and not bumping into him again. The man had already done Fen favors and Fen didn’t want to test his goodwill any further.
Their chatter resumed, hushed but friendly. Race returned after some time; he had apparently been scouting ahead. He brought two others with him, who had many questions which the Wild Dog left his people to answer. Fen uttered not a word, which was somehow also a problem. He could tell because Dol loudly whispered something about beaten dogs who would not bark and Race sighed mournfully.
One of the newcomers uttered something in what had to be the odd tongue of the Issick and others like them; the old language that some said came from the fae and should not be forgotten. Others said it was best never spoken, although most names came from it.
If any from the families who kept more to the old ways were there, then the Wild Dog truly had drawn the attention of everyone in the North. Possibly even those in the South, who were undoubtedly watching and waiting to see if the Earls would eventually crush him.
They stopped for water from a stream nearly winter-cold already, then walked on. Race joked with the newcomers, but not to Heni or Dol. The Wild Dog spoke barely a word. Fen considered what he’d learned and walked until he began to stumble again, when he was once more hauled up to be carried over the man’s shoulder like a bundle at harvesttime.
At least it was not for so long this time, as surely even the Wild Dog felt exhaustion. Fen was full grown, even if he was nowhere near the man’s size. His weight was not light and the Dog wore armor besides.
Fen was gently placed on his feet before he had to chance to drift in his thoughts again, and turned his head sharply at the sound of multiple dogs barking and then more human voices calling to the others around him.
A tug on the rope lead made him face forward in time for his blindfold to be pulled away. He blinked dizzily up at the Wild Dog in the light of the late afternoon sun. The man indeed had red in his hair. Reddish-brown hair with visible waves that made the knot worn at the crown of his head seem soft to the touch. His eyes were deep, dark brown. In better light, Fen could see that the mandidwear other decorations: bits of shiny metal in one eyebrow and along his ears, as if the shells and lobes of his ears had been pierced, which Fen had heard some did in the mountains and further up north in the frozen wetlands but had never seen for himself.
