As Vladim moved to turn the locks, I heard Genya whisper. "You definitely owe me a kiss after all this, Don't think I won't hold you to it."
I laughed lightly. "We'll see."
"There is no seeing, you will, if I have to be the one to do it then so be...
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WE STILL SAW SHOOTS OF NEW GRASSES AND even a few wildflowers, but there were fewer signs of spring as we headed north to Tsibeya and into the wild reaches where Mal believed he would find the stag. The dense pines gave way to sparse birchwood forests and then to long stretches of grazing land.
Though Mal regretted our trip into the village, he soon had to admit that had been a necessity. The nights grew colder as we traveled north, and cookfires weren't an option as we drew closer to the outpost at Chernast.
We also didn't want to waste time hunting or trapping food every day, so we relied on our supplies and nervously watched them dwindle. Something between Mal and Alina had thawed, and instead of the stony silence of the Petrazoi, they walked as they talked.
He seemed curious to hear about life in the Little Palace, the strange ways of the court, and even Grisha's theory. He wasn't all shocked when Alina told him about the contempt with which most Grisha regarded the King. Apparently, the trackers had been grumbling more and more loudly amongst themselves about the King's incompetence.
"The Fjerdans have a breech-loading rifle that can fire twenty-eight rounds per minute. Our soldiers should have them, too. If the King could be bothered to take an interest in the First Army, we wouldn't be so dependent on the Grisha. But it'll never happen," He told us, then muttered, "we all know who's running this country."
Alina and I said nothing. We tried avoiding talking about the Darkling as much as possible. When I asked about the time Mal had spent tracking the stag, he always seemed to find a way to bring the conversation back to me. Because I'd told him about my time as a tracker. But I didn't press him. Alina and I were well aware that Mal's unit had crossed the borders into Fjerda.
We suspected that they'd had to fight their way out and that was where Mal had acquired the scar on his jaw, be he refused to say more. But if they'd gotten into Fjerda, why had the darkling lied to me about not being able to get over here? Unless he was just trying to keep me distracted just as he'd kept Alina distracted.
As we were walking through a band of desiccated willows, the forest crunching beneath our boots, Mal pointed out a sparrow hawk nest, and I found myself wishing that we could just keep walking forever. As much as we longed for a hot meal and a warm bed, we were afraid of what our journey might bring.
What if we found the stag, and Alina claimed the antlers? How might an amplifier that powerful change Alina? Would it be enough to free us from the Darkling? If only we could stay this way, walking side by side, a little trio, sleeping huddled beneath the stars. Maybe these empty plains and quiet groves could shelter us as they sheltered Morozova's herd and keep us safe from the man who sought us.
