The Shattered Mountain

10

REYNALDO does not find a rabbit. He does, however, encounter a burned-down farmstead with a cellar. In the cellar, he finds three musty turnips, a jar of pomegranate jelly, a side of bacon, and two frightened boys.

He brings them back to their campsite, and Mara is both delighted and dismayed to see them. Two more survivors. Two more mouths to feed.

The boys themselves, ten and thirteen, are so happy to see everyone that they burst into tears. Mara hugs them tight, even though they might be a bit old for hugging, and assures them that they are safe.

When did she become such a liar?

She gets everyone organized for sleep—small children with older ones, two or three to a blanket—then lies down beside Julio, who still sleeps soundly. She yearns to wrap her arms around him but doesn’t dare jostle the wound. She is chilled, her shoulder aches from the hard ground, and her stomach rumbles with hunger, so it is hours before she finally drifts off into restless sleep.

In the morning, her first conscious thought is for Julio. She puts a hand on his shoulder, terrified that she won’t feel the rise and fall of his breathing. But she does. It’s steady and even. Almost healthy. The tiny spark of hope inside her burns hot and bright.

His eyelids flutter at her touch, and when he opens his eyes and sees her, he smiles.

“How do you feel?” she asks, reaching for his bandages. They are soaked with brownish drainage.

He winces as she peels them back. “I feel wonderful,” he says. “Like I could fight the Inviernos, carry Adán over my shoulder, and dance a jig all at the same time.”

Her lips twitch. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because it turns out we’re running away together to join the rebellion after all.”

He reaches for her hand and gives it a weak squeeze. “I saw this going differently in my head.”

She sighs. “Me too. But . . . as long as we’re together, right?”

He frowns. “No.”

Something unpleasant curls in her belly. “What do you mean?” she asks carefully.

He lifts his head. “Mara. Love. Don’t pin all your hopes on me. You are so much more than that. Instead of saying ‘as long as we’re together,’ I’d much rather you say, ‘as long as I’m alive.’”

She squeezes his hand. “I can’t imagine life without you. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to imagine a life without you either. But I do worry . . . sometimes . . . that you only think you love me. That you’ve had so little kindness in your life that . . .” His voice breaks off at the horror on her face. “Oh, Mara, I’m not saying this well. That damn arrow has addled my mind. . . .”

Mara brushes dark hair away from his forehead. “I do love you. And you know it.”

He lets his head fall back to the earth and closes his eyes. “I just need . . . a little more rest.”

“Sleep,” Mara orders. “I’ll rouse you when we’re ready to go.”

He does not respond, and Mara waits to see him breathe before stepping away.