MAYFLOWER

CHAPTER THREE

The lady seemed to prefer to walk the horse as if for the equality of this and to have her head near to the animal she was affectionate to. The dog preferred it too. It must have felt unnatural for it to be on the horse. Gideon was not concerned by the walking. It was where they were walking that bothered him.

She told him her name was Anya and said little else. It was mostly short conversations about food and water, and then long silences. They hiked for a long time and into land that humans were not supposed to go, toward the sea.

"There are no Bigfoots in these parts," she said, breaking a silence.

"Bigfoots?"

"That's what I call them. It's a mythical animal from old-Earth – not so mythical here. Have you seen the size of the feet of those creatures?"

"Ah, the Nooks." He used her talk as a chance to say what he wanted. "Should we not be going to the villages?"

"It is unsafe," she quickly answered. "You saw how many Bigfoots there were. And we need to treat the gash on your arm."

"My arm is bandaged. It does not hurt. I must warn the villages. I am a Royal Scout."

She said nothing.

"Where are we going, then?"

"You must improve your shooting. I noticed that when you fired you hit none."

"Hmm ... yes ... I am better with a rifle. Where are we going, then?"

"I am taking you to where I live. It will be safe. We will mend your arm and do some shooting."

"What village is that?"

"No village."

"Town?"

"None of those."

"Where do you live?"

"You will see. We have some to go."

The sea came closer. Gideon had never seen it before other than in pictures. The direction of the wind changed and he smelled it. It had the smell of something dead, long dead. He closed his mouth as if tasting it would be deadly itself. Anya did not show any concern for the stench and kept her face dedicated to scanning what was in front of them. The road was the barest of tracks. Perhaps it had been graded with a machine or horses – a long time ago.

She slowed at times and pulled muesli sticks from the saddlebags. The dog jumped for one as soon as it was in Gideon's hand. She whistled to it and held out strips of dried meat. The horse was happy to eat from a bag of oats. They passed a lonely well, sat on its rim, and refilled the canteens. Anya wore an old-Earth watch with the ticking hands. She checked it and wandered away to a flat patch of dirt where she knelt, bent forward, and prayed facing away from him. Her robe and weapons were packed on the horse. She wore a white shirt that fanned out at her neck, black trousers pulled high and held firm by braces, and walking boots that were laced over her ankles.

He watched her for a moment and then cupped some more water for the dog whose name was Saturn he recalled. The dog greedily licked his hands until they were dry. He filled another handful for it and then splashed his own face. The weather was sultry like he had not experienced. Sweat had stuck his shirt to his back. He figured it was because they had moved farther away from the mountains whose familiar presence could no longer be seen. He lifted his chin. There was none of the almost-constant mizzle of the village to cool his face.