They spend the afternoon walking, speaking little. Their spirits are remarkably light--Asher is surprised at how strongly he feels a sense of adventure despite the events that led him to flee. May, meanwhile, relishes that, for the first time since she fled her home, she has a companion. She isn't alone.
When the land takes on the orange glow that is the afternoon's sign of giving way to evening, they come upon a dirt road. It runs east and west, one end heading toward the setting sun. It's not the road that runs south from the village, then. "We could follow it," Asher says. "Eventually we would come to a crossroads that would point us to the nearest town."
May, though, seems troubled by the thought of going toward any sort of town. Several thoughts play out across her face. "Do you think," she says at last, "there are any towns by a river?"
Asher relaxes a little, relieved that she's warming to his plan. "Most towns are," he says.
"And do you think," she continues, her voice growing sad, "There are any rivers where more of my people live?"
She looks up at Asher with desperate eyes, and his heart falls. He knows little of the world, to be sure, but given the villagers response to seeing May, he can't imagine anyone with her strange skin and hair would be tolerated within the boundaries of Malarkia. And he was only taking her farther in.
"I don't know," he says at last. "Maybe." He looks at the sun. "Let's find a place to rest for the night. We can decide what we want to do tomorrow."
YOU ARE READING
The Unending Epic Written to Appease a Friend, Tell a Tale, an...
FantasyEach day, the story grows. The tale begins when two lives are suddenly and irrevocably twined together, and a boy from a lonely farm and a girl without a people find themselves each other's only friend. Little by little the fabric of their lives wea...
