The Burning Bridge

15

T HEY RODE AS HARD AS THEY COULD THAT NIGHT, HELD BACK somewhat by the docile pace that was all the pack pony could manage. The rain came back during the night to make them more miserable. But then, an hour before dawn, it cleared, so that the first streaks of light in the east painted the sky a dull pearl color. With the gathering light, Will began to look for a place to make camp.

Horace noticed him looking around. "Why don't we keep going for a couple more hours?" he suggested. "The horses aren't really tired yet."

Will hesitated. They'd seen no sign of anyone else during the night, and certainly no evidence of any Wargals in the area. But he didn't like to go against Gilan's advice. In the past, he'd found that advice given by senior Rangers usually turned out to be worth following. He hesitated, then came to a decision as they rounded the next bend and saw a thicket of shrubs set back about thirty meters from the road. The bushes, while not more than three meters high at their tallest point, offered a thick screen, providing shelter from both the wind and any unfriendly eyes that might chance to come along.

"We'll camp here," Will said, indicating the bushes. "That's the first decent-looking campsite we've passed in hours. Who knows when we'll see another?"

Horace shrugged. He was quite content to let Will make the decisions. He had only been making a suggestion, not trying to usurp the Ranger apprentice's authority in any way. Horace was essentially a simple soul. He reacted well to commands and to other people making decisions. Ride now. Stop here. Fight there. As long as he trusted the person making the decisions, he was happy to abide by them.

And he trusted Will's judgment. He had a hazy idea that Ranger training somehow made people more decisive and intelligent. And of course, in that he was right, to a large degree.

As they dismounted and led their horses through the thick bushes into a clearing beyond, Will gave a small sigh of relief. He was stiffer than he'd realized after a full night in the saddle with only a few brief rests. Several good hours' sleep seemed like a capital idea right now. He helped Evanlyn down from the pack pony-riding on the pack saddle as she had to, it was a little awkward for her to dismount. Then he began unstrapping their packs of food supplies and the rolled canvas length that they used as a weather shelter.

Evanlyn, with barely a word to him, stretched, then walked a few paces away to sit down on a flat rock.

Will, his forehead creased in a frown, tossed one of the food packs onto the sand at her feet.

"You can start getting a meal ready," he said, more abruptly than he'd really intended. He was annoyed that the girl would sit down and make herself comfortable, leaving the work to him and Horace. She glanced down at the pack and flushed angrily.

"I'm not particularly hungry," she told him. Horace started forward from where he was unsaddling his horse.

"I'll do it," he said, keen to avoid any conflict between the other two. But Will held up a hand to stop him.

"No," he said. "I'd like you to rig the shelter. Evanlyn can get the food out."

His eyes locked with hers. They were both angry, but she realized she was in the wrong. She shrugged faintly and reached for the pack. "If it means so much to you," she muttered, then asked: "Is it all right if Horace makes the fire for me? He can do it a lot quicker than