She tugs the lapel of her jacket and wishes, not for the first time, that there is a way of bringing more with her when she bounces. That she is allowed her clothing and the satchel that is always slung around her shoulders is enough, she supposes. She had once tried to bring a box of supplies by holding on tightly, but the box wasn’t close enough to her body. When she lands in warm areas, she doesn’t face many issues—but lands like this one where the wind cuts down to her bones make her worry about survival. Usually her main concern is food, but this time she worries primarily about staving off the frigid air.
She glances down at her watch, which tells her that it is nearly six in the morning, although wherever she has landed is clearly on a different time schedule, as the sun appears to be going down. While she isn’t anywhere near frozen at the moment, she knows that nightfall can’t be too far off, and soon there will be no sun to compete with the cold air and bracing wind. She can’t tell where she is, except that there are trees to the south and plains everywhere else. There are dim lights just north of her position, but what she presumes to be a town appears to be a bit more than a day’s walk away.
Or such a journey would be if her legs weren’t in such pain. When she takes one step forward, her calves flare up. She squats and rubs them as she considers what to do next. Her last bounce landed her in a dangerous area. She’d spent forty-eight hours running, dodging, walking, and hiding—most of which had led to the muscle pain she was now experiencing. Bouncing to a day spa would have been nice, she thinks, but that had never happened to her as of yet.
She massages a hand over one tender thigh and grimaces. Although a spa would have been ideal, she also would have accepted somewhere with an abundance of heat and sun, like a beach, where she could soak in the warmth until the pain abated. Instead, she seems to have arrived at the beginning of what would probably develop into a terrible winter.
She stands again with a slight wince and folds her arms over her chest. Damn her light jacket, she thinks. The options are either walk toward the lights of civilization in the hopes that she arrives before she freezes or set up camp for the evening. If she remembers correctly, she has enough food in reserve, but she hates digging into emergency supplies. She doesn’t know when she’ll refill them, and on top of that, she has to admit they’re hardly scrumptious. Sometimes she feels like chewing bark would better. Still, it’s a long walk and her legs aren’t feeling up to an arduous hike. As she walks to the trees behind her, she digs into her pockets.
In her left one she finds the small capsule she seeks. There’s probably a safer place to keep what she considers her most valuable possession, but she uses it so often it would be inconvenient to keep it elsewhere. Someday she predicts that she’ll reach for her pocket and it will be missing—but for the time being she focuses her attention on setting the capsule on the ground. She pools saliva in her mouth and spits, glad that she’s hydrated enough to manage the small feat. The moment her spittle hits the capsule, the moisture soaks in and the capsule trembles. She steps back as a tent slowly folds out and up. The tent is nothing fancy, not like the floor models she encountered that included several rooms, but is much sturdier than the others. If something broke, she can’t bring the tent back or get it fixed, so she feels that simpler is better.
Her satchel holds a few other essentials: small things she’s picked up over time. There’s a digital journal in which she details her progress, if one could call it that; a compass that hasn’t worked exactly right in a couple of months; a pocket knife; and a handful of tiny treasures to trade in case of emergencies. Her food supply is dehydrated and kept in water tight pouches, as is her flint. She eases the bag to the ground and unlatches the top. As it carries her only important possessions, she takes great care in its organization; finding and retrieving a canteen of fresh water takes her but a moment.
As she takes a sip, she gazes out at the horizon. She estimates she has about an hour before the sun finishes its daily journey, which is more than enough time to collect some dry wood for a fire. She hasn’t spotted human life yet, otherwise she would hesitate to create a brightly burning beacon. The quiet assures her that none will disturb her, though. In the morning she’ll head for town and see about collecting more supplies. If security is minimal, she has no issue taking what she needs sans payment.
“Okay,” she says. Her voice sounds foreign against the stark landscape. There are times when she forgets what she sounds like, especially after long periods of isolation. After so many years of this, she has learned to speak to herself, no matter how superfluous the topic. “Get the firewood, start a fire, eat something, and then sleep.”
She works mechanically to complete the ascribed tasks and tries not to think too much. In the beginning, doing anything else had been difficult. She had thought so much about her circumstances and cried so often that the topic was now dead. There is nothing new to think about what happened and nothing new to do about anything, and so she prefers to wonder about the people of this time.
The lack of buildings suggests that she is sometime before an industrial age, but the well-lit town in the distance means that there has been some sort of technological advances. Perhaps, she thinks, the people are farmers, but she dismisses the thought. The lack of fields around her don’t lend much support to that theory. Whatever these people do to provide for themselves, she can only guess until she travels to town.
She piles dry logs and branches into a neat pyre and strikes her flint until a spark leaps out. The wood crackles as fire begins to catch, and she takes a seat near enough that the flames warm her cheeks. She cocks her leg to the side and sighs as the lack of weight upon the limb relieves the pain. It’s going to be a long walk, she knows, but she made the right decision resting before attempting it.
“Walpi?”
Her head lifts slowly, although her heart hammers. If she weren’t so used to strange surprises, she would have been startled by sudden appearance of—she blinks slowly. The winsome intruder is tall and dark-skinned, with a splash of bright red across her lips. The other woman wears a long, tan dress that wends pleasantly around her body and then curves over her hair and head. A few wisps of black curly hair are loose, and the stranger fiddles with them.
“Walpi?” The woman repeats the phrase and steps closer. “Denno?”
She reaches a finger deftly into her left ear. She doesn’t recognize the dialect, but her hearing aid will solve that. Once the quiet static of the aid hums in her ear, she motions for the stranger to speak again.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice drips over her like honey.
She smiles tentatively. “Hello. Can I help you?”
The woman’s face lights up. “Yes. I will sit by your fire?”
She glances around, trying to gauge the threat this woman presents. Even if the woman herself does not mean ill, there is always a chance that something nasty is close behind. But the night is still and quiet, so she nods. The woman sits gracefully and tucks her hands neatly in her lap.
“Who are you?” The woman’s eyes are a brilliant blue and follow her every movement.
“My name’s Erin.”
“Ay’ren.”
“Erin.”
“Yes.” The woman nods agreeably. “Ay’ren.”
Rather than correct the woman again, Erin leans forward and balances her elbows on her knees. “And you are?”
“Meh’lin z’Porro.”
“Is it okay if I call you May?”
Meh’lin’s face tightens as her jaw clenches but relaxes as the seconds tick past. “I suppose.”
“You’re welcome at my fire as long as you need,” Erin states, eyes on the sky, “but I’m curious why you’re out here.”
“Traveling.”
There is a period of tense silence as Erin evaluates the answer. There has to be more to the story, she decides, but as she doesn’t expect the other woman to trust her implicitly upon meeting her, she doesn’t press for more. She reaches for her satchel and fishes out a loaf of bread. From her canteen she spills a single drop of water and the bread inflates instantly to full size. Although she usually worries about the response from the people she visits, she’s too hungry to care what Meh’lin thinks of her futuristic food.
“I will have some…?”
She rips off a chunk and tosses it to her guest. The woman scrambles to catch the offering before it hits the dirt. Taking a bite, she sets the rest of the loaf beside her and begins to massage her leg muscles. Although the bread tastes minutely of cardboard, scarfing something down does wonders for the rumbling in her stomach. Meh’lin eats daintily, all the while not removing her eyes from Erin. Once she’s done chewing, Meh’lin rubs her fingers together and clears her throat.
“You aren’t from here.”
“No.”
“Tell me where you are from.”
Erin looks away. “It’s a few weeks’ walk from here.”
“You are lying.”
“I can’t say.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.” Erin takes another bite and stares at the fire. “You mentioned you wanted my help?”
Meh’lin nods and straightens, her posture almost imperial. “I require your protection.”
“You think I can protect you.” Erin fights the urge to laugh out loud. She is capable, but she shouldn’t look it. “With what? Do I look particularly imposing to you?”
“You wear strange clothing. You are out alone. You show no fear. You keep yourself safe. You will keep me safe as well.”
“You’re out alone, too, and you don’t look too afraid.”
“I have no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not always.” Meh’lin swallows, and Erin can see her throat straining. “My husband has made a grievous mistake. He remains, but he presented me the chance to escape.”
“What did he do?”
“Immaterial. I am alone, and you will protect me.”
“I won’t be around long.”
“I will go with you.”
“I can’t take you along, sorry.” Meh’lin is perfectly still for a second until her lips begin to quiver. Fearing that there will be tears, Erin grimaces. “I just can’t, okay? It’s not like I don’t want to.”
Meh’lin contemplates this quietly and responds, “Then I will no doubt be killed.”
Before Erin can think of something to say to that, Meh’lin stands and marches to the edge of the small camp. Thinking of a plethora of different gruesome ends Meh’lin may meet, Erin jumps to her feet as well. She doesn’t meet many people, but those she does, she tends to want to help. The looks of gratitude make her feel less alone. In this case, there is also some invisible force putting pressure on Erin’s gut.
“You can stay here for two days, if that will help.”
“They will catch up.”
“I’ll travel with you, then.”
When Meh’lin turns to face her, she expects to see a smile or some visible sign of how thankful the other woman is. Instead, Meh’lin’s face is somber. Erin shifts from foot to foot and tries not to pay attention to how Meh’lin’s gaze is dissecting her.
“What would your purpose be in such a gesture? You have already said you are incapable.”
“I just—I can’t let you walk away and get killed. I won’t, either.” Erin approaches slowly, as if the other woman is a flighty animal, and stops a few feet away. “I can’t take you with me, but I can help you while I’m here.”
Meh’lin beams. Her moods, Erin thinks, are like summer thunderstorms. “Tonight we will camp here. In the morning, we will go to Re’Twun.”
Wherever that is, Erin thinks. She guides Meh’lin back to the fire and questions just what she’s gotten herself into this time. “As long as you know the way.”
“I do.”
With the firelight flickering on Meh’lin’s face, Erin wonders if the woman is some sort of vampiric creature and if she is under some sort of thrall. The other woman has very fine features—a set of evenly spaced eyes with the longest lashes Erin has ever seen; a high-bridged nose set between rounded cheeks; plump lips; and a pointed chin. Mayhap it is the effect of makeup, but the woman looks flawless for someone who is clearly on the run. The thought is absurd, though, and Erin discards it.
“Can you tell me anything about who’s after you?”
“They are likely armed, although I do not know if they have orders to capture or kill.” Meh’lin’s voice cracks on her last word. She purses her lips. “My situation is unique, so they will send as many guards as they see fit; however, I have a day’s lead.”
Despite being loath to admit it, Erin is suddenly aware that she may, indeed, be in over her head. Protecting this woman from an unknown force seemed easy; knowing now that this task may be deadly is intimidating. Still, she tries to never renege on a promise, and she has all but sworn to keep Meh’lin safe until she leaves.
“Okay. Could be worse, right?”
“Where are you going that I cannot follow?”
Erin pokes the fire. “It’s not where, so much as when.”
“I do not understand.”
“I don’t really, either.”
“Please explain.”
“It’s late, and I’m sleepy.” Erin gestures to the tent. “So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to get some sleep—especially if we’re walking tomorrow.”
Meh’lin nods and stands. “It is very kind of you to give me your tent for the night. You will be fine out by the fire?”
“That wasn’t…” Erin grits her teeth. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Good night, Ay’ren.”
Erin waits for Meh’lin to disappear into her tent and then rearranges her pack so that nothing hard is right near the surface. She gingerly rests her head upon the bag and prepares for a rather uncomfortable night’s sleep.
#
Just before sunrise, Erin’s eyes pop open. The fire is dead, and she is cold, but she pushes that thought away in favor of listening as keenly as she can. It had been an owl’s hoot that had awoken her, but then she’d heard a twig snap in the distance, she is almost certain of it. Whether that is a sign of danger, she can’t quite ascertain because there may be animals in the woods beyond the camp that could account for the noise.
Rather than take their chances, Erin moves as quickly as she can without being loud into the tent. She approaches the bed at the back and gently shakes Meh’lin’s shoulder. The other woman groggily stares up at her; Erin is momentarily taken aback. Even without the makeup of the night before, Meh’lin is beautiful.
“Ay’ren, this is not proper.”
“Nothing to worry about, but I think I heard something. It’s likely just an animal, but I just think we should get moving, y’know? Just in case?”
Meh’lin blinks and stretches. “Very well. You will wait outside.”
Erin removes herself and stands in the pre-dawn darkness. She knows little of this time or this place, but she hopes that trusting Meh’lin is the appropriate course of action. For all she knows, Meh’lin is a dangerous criminal, and she’s now aiding and abetting. The idea of the delicate woman inside her tent being anything other than regal is comical; Erin nearly laughs, if not for the circumstances.
As soon as Meh’lin is outside with her, she reaches into her pack and sets about using her miniature dehydration device. It latches onto the edge of the tent and, with a small pop, sucks the moisture away. The tent folds up into itself, and Erin snags the newly reformed capsule from the ground. Meh’lin’s mouth is open, but Erin doesn’t feel like explaining. She reorganizes her pack the way she likes it and looks expectantly at the other woman.
“Which way?”
Meh’lin points in the direction opposite the town Erin had seen prior. They begin to walk, and Erin focuses all of her attention away from the slight sting of her leg. Sleeping on the ground did very little to get rid of the pain, but she has no time to rest further. They walk silently, each lost in her own thoughts, but as the sun climbs higher in the sky, Erin finds the wordless walking stifling.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
“Like what?”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Nobody has asked me that in years.” Meh’lin’s serious expression cracks and a smile pushes its way onto her lips. “I love the color yellow, but I am told that is hardly a color worthy of my position.”
“How can a color be worthy or unworthy of anything?”
Meh’lin lifts her shoulders in a noncommittal fashion. “I am unsure. When I married my husband, I became uncertain of most things – except that I cared deeply for him.”
“But you left him.”
“Yes, that is presently how my life is transpiring. The past does not dictate the future.”
“Sometimes history repeats itself, or that’s what we’re taught in my time.”
“Perhaps.”
“So, what color is worthy of your position?”
“Deep blues.”
“You don’t like blue?”
“It simply is not yellow.” Meh’lin lifts her face to the sky. “It is not the sun on my cheeks, or the warmth on my skin.”
“There’s not a whole lot of warmth right now.”
“You ought to experience a summer here.”
This, Erin decides, is better than solitude. No matter the danger they are in, she can’t bring herself to regret offering help to this woman. Even if she is enthralled, she doesn’t mind. It’s been too long since she’s had company that wasn’t trying to kill her. There is a sweet innocence about the other woman that Erin is drawn to.
“I like red myself,” Erin says. She walks a bit quicker to keep up with her lithe friend. “It’s passionate, y’know?”
“Red incites anger.”
“Red also stands for love. It’s… like people are. When you’ve met as many people as I have, you figure out that everyone is what they show you, and the exact opposite, too. You just have to catch them in a quiet moment.”
“Sometimes people are who they say they are.”
“I disagree.”
“My husband…” Meh’lin’s eyes drift to the left and her lips twitch down at the corners. The sorrowful expression lessens as she shakes her head and forces a smile. “He was always exactly what he said.”
“How did you meet?”
“He was selected for me.”
“Selected?”
“I was not allowed much choice as I was raised. I was lucky, however, that my husband was a decent man. He was a sensitive soul and very intelligent. When we were introduced the day before our wedding, he made me laugh, in spite of my nerves.”
“Could you have said no?”
“My other options were pompous fools.” Meh’lin tosses her head. “I demanded an equal, and they brought me—“
“Some lousy dudes,” Erin suggests.
“One man had the audacity to propose to me.”
“How dare he?” Erin isn’t sure what the appropriate reaction to this statement is, but she hopes that Meh’lin won’t notice her ignorance of the culture.
“Regardless, I married Trall, and I will remember him until I die.”
“Did you love him?”
“Love is a curious thing,” Meh’lin answers. “I loved him, as I love my father and my mother. Yet, I also love my pets and my servants. Of them all, though, I will miss my father the most. I can only hope they did not harm my parents when they discovered my disappearance.”
“You have to tell me what happened. Why you’re running.”
“I will share if you tell me why you are running as well.”
Erin rubs her forehead. “I’m not running…”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I call it bouncing.” The inflection of her voice implies that she’s not certain about the terminology, but rather than fully explain, she continues, “I can’t control it. I just… One moment I’m here, and then after two days, I’m suddenly somewhere else. At a different time.”
“Have you been cursed?”
“I made a foolish wish five years ago.” Erin’s stomach rumbles. “Look, I’m a bit peckish, so if we could stop for lunch, that’d be great. I promise I’ll tell you the whole truth while we eat.”
Meh’lin halts instantly and smiles. “Very well.”
Erin hydrates a few supplies and takes a swig of her water before speaking again. “I was engaged to this woman who was in the army. We met at a bar one night, and one thing led to another and, well, we ended up falling in love. She proposed right before she got shipped out again. She wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere with live action. She was supposed to be safe.”
“But she was not?”
“There was a firefight.”
“I do not understand.”
“They had weapons, and both sides were fighting. Hannah got hit. She died less than three hours later. When I was told, I started wishing I could just go back to the first time I met her—just to enjoy those first few days again and again. I woke up in the morning and realized that my wish must have worked, or I’d had the worst nightmare of my life, because I woke up next to her. I kept poking her to make sure she was tangible—that she was real and I wasn’t just crazy.”
“This cannot be the end of the story.”
“I really wish it was.” Erin is numb to the memories by now, but each retelling prickles painfully against her heart. “We got two days together, just like I wished, and then I wasn’t there anymore. I was somewhere else and totally discombobulated. I thought for the longest time that I was dreaming… but so far I haven’t woken up.”
“My apologies.” Meh’lin finishes her small meal and knocks the crumbs from her fingertips. “I have not been completely forthright with you. I am a princess, fourth in line from the throne. My husband sought to better our position and so was called a traitor. The blood of a traitorous line cannot continue.”
“Did he escape, too?”
“No. He remained behind to give me time to get very far away.”
“So, what’s in Retown?”
“Reh’twun,” Meh’lin corrects. Her demeanor is kinder now that she understands Erin’s position. Much of the vigor has left her posture, and Erin wonders if the other woman has lost hope. “I have old friends. They will assist me in finding a new residency.”
“Can you trust them?”
“I do not know who else to turn to.”
“I wish I could bring you with me. They’d never find you then.”
“Perhaps if you wished hard enough—“
“I’ve tried that,” Erin snaps. “I’ve spent weeks wishing so hard to go back to how things were. But I’m pretty sure I used up any and all wishing powers on that first stupid wish. So just don’t mention it, okay? It’s a dead end.”
Meh’lin is reticent as she walks, which makes Erin feel guilty about the exchange. She is on the verge of apologizing when Meh’lin speaks up again. “What sort of realms have you visited?”
The enormity of the question overwhelms Erin. She stutters a half-answer, clears her throat, and tries again. “That’s too much. Narrow it down?”
“Have you been to the future?”
“I’ve been from the dawn of civilization to the end of it, I think.”
“Would you have wanted to stay in any?”
“Most of them would have been alright. Really, though, anything’s got to be better than bouncing aimlessly through time all by myself.”
Meh’lin slows her pace, allowing Erin’s shorter legs to take a break. “I have often thought that there must be a place in which I can be happy—but perhaps it is more of a when.”
“I already told you. I can’t bring you with me.”
“You bring your satchel, no?”
“Yeah…”
“You will bring me like your satchel.”
“I don’t even know why the satchel comes with me, okay? Please, just drop it.”
“People so rarely talk to me with such impudence.”
“Yeah, well, how many people do you approach at night who happen to be time travelers? I think I have a bit of leeway, your eminent regalness.”
“I am choosing to omit your callous language from my memory.”
The only thing belying Meh’lin’s superior tone is the playful smirk on her lips. Erin rolls her eyes. The squabble is apparently Meh’lin’s way of letting off steam, and Erin has no problem bickering. “Whatever you gotta do, you do it.”
“I have never been this far from home.” Meh’lin pauses as the trees end, and they find themselves standing at the beginning of a rolling plain. “The view is breathtaking.”
“I’ve seen better,” Erin teases.
“I am not as well traveled as you are, so you will forgive me for my innocence.”
“I don’t think you’re nearly as innocent as you’re trying to make me believe.”
“Again with believing people are more than what they say.” Meh’lin’s eyes sparkle. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps there is more to you than what you say.”
“If you find out, will you tell me?”
“I will.”
“Swell.”
Erin buries herself in her thoughts as they walk onward. She can hear Meh’lin chattering beside her, but she doesn’t listen. She thinks about the woman she lost, the people she’s met, and the undeniably lonely future she faces. In one day’s time or so, she will be alone again, with just the memory of Meh’lin to keep her company until she meets someone new once more. This woman is lively and will keep her mind busy for a good long while if need be. There are precious few moments of the past five years that she wishes to remember, but this one she wants to keep.
“How far is it to this place?”
Meh’lin frowns. “I have not been there myself, but my manservant claims it to be a great distance. A four day walk.”
“Will you be okay when I disappear?”
“I will be fine. Oh, we should try to catch a rabbit. I have not had rabbit in many weeks.”
“I don’t know how to catch one.”
Meh’lin’s smile doesn’t falter. “Perhaps another night.”
“Yeah.”
“I wish to thank you for your protection.”
“I haven’t done anything. Just walked with you.”
“I feel very secure in your presence.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help you, like if you need supplies, or a compass, or anything, just tell me. I don’t like the idea of just leaving you on your own when there are dangerous people looking for you.”
“We will discuss this further later. I will tell you what I need before you disappear.”
Erin notes how well Meh’lin is sidestepping any discussions of what will soon be occurring. The woman is certainly well-versed in politics, she thinks and is a little envious of the grace the woman exhibits. If there were time, she would try to mimic Meh’lin’s poise and politesse. Her own set of social skills is abominable at best.
“Do you miss your home?”
“Of course.”
“That was silly of me to ask, but I worry that I will not adjust myself.”
“Your friends will take care of you.”
“What do you miss the most?”
“My family,” Erin responds honestly. “They probably think I’m dead, and that kills me a little. I want to bounce home someday, if only to tell them I love them just once more.”
“You fought when you last saw them?”
The accuracy with which Meh’lin is reading her startles Erin. “Well, that’s the way it always goes, isn’t it? The one day you fight is the one day you don’t come home. They didn’t like my fiancée, and we had argued earlier that morning about them wanting me to call off the engagement.”
“Do you forgive them?”
“It’s more myself that I can’t forgive. I feel like this is some sort of sick lesson, y’know? Really grinding it in that people in my life are just temporary and fleeting and ephemeral, and whatever word you want to use. People leave, or I leave, or whatever. We’re all impermanent, and I get that.”
“People may leave, but they effect change.”
Summoning just enough gumption to spit out the truth, Erin admits, “I think you’ve changed me, and it’s only been a day.”
“How so?”
“Nobody’s really bothered asking about me. I sorta forgot what it was like to have someone interested in who I am.” Erin rubs her thigh. “You remind me how nice it is to have a friend.”
Meh’lin opens her mouth to respond, but there is a distant cry. Erin twists to determine what the source of the hullaballoo is. Several miles back, at the start of the plain, is a line of armored men who have seemingly spotted them.
“We need to skedaddle,” Erin orders.
Her leg aches, but she knows that slowing or stopping will not end well for either of them. They sprint towards the opposite end of the field, and Erin counts the steps she takes to keep her mind off the pain. They’re close to the line of trees that will once again provide them cover when Erin’s leg gives out and she stumbles to the ground. Meh’lin stops, but she yells for Meh’lin to get into the woods and hide somewhere.
As the other woman darts into the trees, Erin wonders if they’ll ever see each other again. She murmurs a quiet ‘good luck’ and then struggles to her feet. She makes it into the trees and folds herself underneath a bush. As a hiding spot, the shallow space under the bush is fairly terrible; should their pursuers take more than a moment’s glance around the trees, they’ll surely spot the texture of her coat. As long as they don’t kill her immediately, she just has to live until the next evening. She closes her eyes and waits.
#
“She went into the woods. You saw her.”
“The other was injured.”
“We don’t need that one. We need the traitor. You heard Gha’ool. We can’t come back empty handed. She has the cure on her.”
“You don’t need to remind me. Shut up and start looking.”
#
She wakes slowly to the heat of a fire on her cheeks. Her heart hammers with the realization that she has no doubt been caught. But when her arms swing up and away from her body, she wonders why they left her unbound. She drags a hand through her unruly hair and focuses as best she can. Across the fire, Meh’lin is digging through her satchel.
“Hey, stop that.”
“You are awake! Delightful.” Meh’lin’s hands pause in their rummaging, but Erin knows it’s just a matter of time before they resume.
“What are you doing with my bag?” Erin gets to her feet with greater ease than she expects. She marches over and tugs on the satchel’s straps. “Give it back.”
“I was looking for the magic object that transports you.” Meh’lin bows her head. “I apologize.”
“There’s no magic anything in there,” Erin says, pain and exhaustion making her tone sharp. “And you would have just left me here if you had found something? That’s just dandy. Thanks for that. You’re a real generous soul.”
“You would have been fine,” Meh’lin argues, although her tone is meek. “It is me they wish to kill.”
“You poisoned someone.”
“What?”
“They said you have the cure. I heard them.”
Meh’lin lifts her gaze. “I am being honest when I say I have no clue what they are saying. Perhaps they wished to cleave our friendship apart?”
“They don’t know who I am to you. So, cut the lies, okay? What cure? What did you do?”
“My husband attempted to poison my cousin, who he knew had plans against my life. The bowl of soup he poisoned, however, went to our sovereign.” Meh’lin releases her grasp on the bag in favor of pressing her palms to her eyes. “He wished to protect me, and instead…”
“If they’re looking for a cure, that means your king or whatever is still alive. We could go back and give them the cure-“
“There is no cure.”
“What?”
“Just as I said. He used a poison with no known cure.”
Erin sits silently, gathering her thoughts. “So… why are they after you? Why do they think you have the cure?”
“I do not know.”
“Do you… do you think your husband sold you out?”
Meh’lin’s brow furrows and her jaw drops open. “How dare you-“
“Because it seems to me that he never planned on escaping. I think he’s pinning this all on you. He meant to kill the king, and he meant it to look like you were at fault. I bet that’s why he wanted you to run, while he stayed behind.”
“He would not…” Meh’lin shakes her head. “You may believe that people have many hidden facets, but my husband was a good man. He would not…”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. If you want to think that, that’s fine. But it doesn’t change your situation. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
“Take me with you.”
“I can’t,” Erin barks, her tone biting and frustrated. “So, as lovely as the idea is, it’s not going to work, so just drop it.”
“You’ve tried it before?”
“Well, no.”
“How can you know the efficacy of an idea if you have even tried it?”
Erin pinches the bridge of her nose and lets a moment pass before responding. This argument is balderdash, but she knows calling it so will only make things worse. “Because it’s going to be awful for us both if it fails, and I don’t want to go through that.”
“You would rather I died here certainly than take a chance where you might be emotionally inconvenienced.” Meh’lin’s lip draws back in anger. “You promised to protect me.”
“I’ve done everything I could over the past day or so on your behalf. Don’t try to make this about me not fulfilling my promise.”
Meh’lin nods stiffly. “Very well. If you will raise your tent, I wish to sleep now.”
“Yeah, fine.”
#
They walk without words in the morning, Erin sore from her night on the ground and Meh’lin from their conversation the previous evening. After resting, Erin feels shame about her conduct but refuses to be the first one to break the chill betwixt them. She soldiers onward, eyes darting around the trees and ears listening carefully for the guards.
They eat lunch in a similar fashion, but as they pack up once more, Meh’lin hesitates. She extends her hand to Erin and waits until Erin grasps it. She squeezes the grip twice and releases. Erin stares down at her hand, confused.
“And that was?”
“It is the greeting of my people,” Meh’lin offers. “I was hoping we might start again.”
Erin’s grin wobbles onto her face. “I think I could do that.”
As they begin walking once more, Meh’lin smiles and says, “Tell me something about yourself.”
“I’m more of a cat person than a dog person.”
“I am afraid—“
“You don’t understand. Don’t you people have domesticated animals around here?”
“Our animals are kept to complete tasks.”
“In my time, some animals are kept for companionship. Cats and dogs are the most common, so people usually say they like one more than the other.”
“I am a horse person.”
“Yeah? You don’t really strike me as the sort who rides bareback.”
“Nothing quite compares to the wind in my hair.”
“Do you remove that headdress thing while you ride?”
“It is called a pu’lka, and it is worn in the summer months when the sun is merciless against our skin. I wear it now only to hide my identity.”
“Because nobody’s going to notice the one pulka out in the middle of winter.”
Meh’lin flushes and tugs the garment down. Her hair spills over her shoulders, and Erin swallows audibly. Somehow Meh’lin is even more fetching than before. Wary of getting caught gawking, Erin quickly averts her gaze and continues walking.
“I do not wear it when I ride.”
“I never got to ride a horse when I was a kid, and I always wanted to. I begged my mom for lessons, but she always told me we just didn’t have the money for it. And then she would spend hundreds of dollars on piano lessons for my brother.” Erin rolls her eyes. “Funny how stuff like that still stings.”
“Have you ever ridden one?”
“I’ve ridden all sorts of things by now. Horses, elephants, camels—one time even an ostrich. I think I’d trade all that to go home, though.”
“Such exotic animals. You must have been everywhere.”
“I guess.”
“That is what I always wanted but was denied. I wished to travel and was instead given scrolls about other lands. A paltry compensation, but it was deemed enough by my parents.”
“I’d take you with me if I could.” Erin tugs her jacket closer to her body, both against the cold and as a layer of protection. “But I just don’t know how.”
“I accept that,” Meh’lin murmurs, her eyes downcast. “And I thank you for your kind intentions.”
“Look, did you have something you wanted to try? To see if you can?”
Meh’lin perks up immediately. “I was considering how you bring your satchel with you.”
“Well, I mean it’s just on my back.”
“And your clothing.”
“It’s just on me.”
“I believe that to bring me with, you simply must hold me close.”
“Like a hug?”
“Yes.”
Erin frowns for a moment but can find no fault with the logic. She also can’t think of a single reason to reject such close physical contact with the other woman. “Okay, we’ll try it. Just... We’ll probably have to hug for a while because I don’t know when I’ll bounce.”
“I find this acceptable.”
“Please, though, don’t… don’t get your hopes up.”
Meh’lin’s head is high and her posture confident. “You concern yourself with your own wellbeing. I will concern myself with mine.”
Erin sighs deeply. They walk on.
#
Erin checks her watch. She estimates they have roughly twenty minutes before her next bounce, although she knows it’s hardly an exact science. Meh’lin waits expectantly nearby, and Erin thinks about how strange it is that her feelings for the dark, mercurial woman have evolved so quickly from a general sort of liking to a deep fondness. If this doesn’t work, she hopes that it will merely be as Meh’lin described it and nothing more. She can deal with an emotional inconvenience, but she never wants to deal with losing someone dear to her again.
“I’m surprised they haven’t found us yet.”
“They ran deeper into the forest, while I remained close to you. I saw where you hid yourself and predicted they would think I ran as fast and as far as I could.”
“Do you think they’ll backtrack?”
“I am not sure. They may continue looking for weeks.”
“They did say they can’t go home without you.”
“The laws are strict.”
“I’m just saying they have every reason to be really thorough in their search.”
“Relax. We have a very short time left. We will be fine.”
“I hope so.” Erin glances around once again, trying to determine just how alone they actually are. “Humor me and just keep your voice down, okay?”
“Okay,” Meh’lin whispers. “You worry a good deal.”
“Worry keeps me alive. Worry and instinct.”
“Relax,” she repeats. “How much time?”
“Five minutes.”
Erin opens her arms and Meh’lin folds herself delicately into Erin’s embrace. Erin inhales slowly and lets Meh’lin’s musky scent fill her nostrils. It’s a heady sort of sensation, so she nestles her nose in Meh’lin’s thick hair and continues breathing. She wonders if Meh’lin can hear how hard her heart is pounding.
“Through the trees!”
“I see them!”
Erin’s head snaps up. Meh’lin’s fingers dig into her back. They cling together as three guards smash through the trees, brandishing blades and scowling darkly. Erin checks her watch. She should have bounced already. She clenches her eyes shut. Please, she begs, just let them bounce now. Let Meh’lin go with her. Please.
A guard sprints forward, his sword bouncing but aimed directly at Erin’s arm. A moment before the blade can flay her skin, Erin feels the familiar pressure. Bouncing is a bit like being a square peg forced through a round hole. It’s as though the times she visits know she doesn’t belong but can’t inevitably keep her out.
She opens her eyes. To her left is a resplendent tapestry, filled with tiny stitched knights and a fiery dragon. To her right—she lets out shaky sigh. She blinks out a few tears, and then immediately drags her wrist across her cheeks to rid herself of the evidence. To her right is Meh’lin, sprawled across the floor.