10. Owen

The town of Glades sat within a forest, the main path weaving through the trees. Owen and his companions arrived before the rain began, and the sun was just beginning its descent. They tied their horses to nearby trees, shouldered their bags, and began sloshing through knee-high murky water that led into the town's sewers. Rem moved along until he found a metal grate over the outer stone wall of the town. He took out a tool and released a few iron pins that fastened into the holes, then he opened the grate and they all made their way into a dark tunnel.

They walked until they hit dry ground, then Rem struck a match and lit a lantern. His face illuminated in the darkness, and when Owen found the man eyeing him, Owen looked away from his gaze. It wasn't that he enjoyed the man looking at him. It was that Owen had a feeling the man was sweet on him. Why else would he have tried to buy him a drink in Ivormor's brothel? Every time Rem regarded him softly, it made Owen's stomach tighten.

"Here." Rem gave Brom the lantern. "You'll continue down this way until you hit a wall, then you'll go left. There will be another small grate in the wall. You'll go through there and find yourself at the hideout. Knock on a short wooden door and someone will meet you. Tell them ‘The star of Eris sends her regards,' and they will let you in."

Owen wondered at the strange phrase. What did it mean?

"You're not going with us?" Gilda asked.

"I'll be going into town from the front gate to put up the horses. I'm rather well-known in Glades, and the guards and people think I rent out horses for local travelers, so they won't question my coming into the stable with two extra mounts."

"I'm sure we can handle this," Colt said.

Rem nodded at them before leaving through the tunnel, and Brom led the way forward, holding the lantern out.

Owen's heart pounded, and he looked all around, fearful of Geesh. The fish-like creatures of the sewers in Covehaven had forever scarred his mind into thinking such things lurked in every sewer.

But they only found silence and stillness. In fact, it was so quiet as they walked that Owen could hardly stand it, and he cleared his throat.

"Should we sing a song?" he asked.

Colt chuckled. "Like what?"

"I don't know, but anything is better than staying quiet. I don't like it in here."

"This isn't really the place to sing," Gilda said. "Any fool could be down here waiting around the corner to ambush us, and we'd give ourselves away."

Brom gave a smug smile. "Well, you're certainly doing an excellent job of that already," he whispered.

Gilda stopped walking and narrowed her eyes on him, looking as if her stare alone would be enough to kill him. Surprisingly, she said nothing back and continued on.

Owen grabbed Colt's arm, making him look over, and put up one of his fingers. "I finally got a tally on Brom!" he said, his voice low.

Chuckling, Colt ruffled Owen's hair, and Owen shoved him away, but Colt caught his hand and interlaced their fingers. When Gilda glanced back at them, her eyes darted to their hands. At first, Owen tensed, unsure if he should pull away from Colt, but Gilda only raised one of her eyebrows and smiled before turning back around.

Sighing in relief, Owen's hold tightened around Colt's fingers. She seemed to not mind their outward affections toward each other, and Owen was surprised himself to find that Colt seemed to want it the most. A part of Owen was unsure, feeling too timid to hold this man's hand around others, but when he looked over and saw how Colt's face lit up, he couldn't let go.

When they came to the wall Rem spoke of, they turned left until they hit another bend, where they found a grate in the wall. Gilda swung it open easily, and they all had to hunch over to walk through. When they came through the other side, they followed along the damp stony path to a door. As they approached, Owen, Colt, and Brom stood behind Gilda.

She glanced back at them. "Well, is someone going to knock?"

"We're waiting for you," Brom said. "Seems more of a you thing to knock before entering."

"Oh, please, I'm not about to knock on this door." Gilda went up to the door and turned the knob, only to find it locked.

"Well, that's a damper." Brom pulled back.

But Gilda didn't back down, and instead, she placed her hand back on the knob and focused. Owen narrowed his eyes as he watched her. He could feel that she was using her Essence to try and pick the lock. A moment later, something clicked, and she opened the door. As soon as she made her way forward, the glint of a long knife pointed at her, and she backed away.

"And who do we have here?" A man with long, scraggly, dark hair and a deeply wrinkled face stepped through the doorway and peered at them all.

Owen tried to remember the phrase that Rem had told them to get into the underground bunker. When it came to him, he opened his mouth to say it, but Brom beat him to it.

"The star of Eris… is very wise," Brom said, smiling.

Gilda let out a long sigh, and Colt glanced at Brom as if he'd said something foolish. The man before them narrowed his eyes.

"I'd say you get about two more guesses before I skewer you all," he said.

Stepping in front of Gilda, Owen looked at the man and said, "The star of Eris sends her regards."

The man grunted and lowered his knife before making his way back through the door, then gestured them forward. Owen let out a breath of air as they followed.

Brom shrugged. "Well, I almost had it."

"Next time just leave the simple stuff to us." Gilda shook her head.

As they came into the room, Owen looked around. Crates were stacked up against one wall, as well as full sacks of something, possibly food. Another man lingered nearby, sitting on a stool with a ledger in his hands.

"Who sent you?" asked the scraggly-haired man.

"Rem," Owen replied.

The man didn't ask any more as he led them down a narrow passage to a small room that held pallets and a table to sit at.

"You can wait for him here," he said. "I'll bring you all something to eat."

"And if we need to find you?" Brom asked. "Who should we ask for?"

The man frowned, the shadows under his eyes making him appear angry. "We have no names down here. Just find one of us and tell us what you need. Can't say we can supply everything, but we'll try our best, for a price, of course."

"Of course." Brom laughed softly. "I'm sure we can find some things to leave you for allowing us to stay here."

The man nodded and left, and they all set down their bags. When Gilda suddenly growled, Owen looked over in concern.

"I need to find a privy." She gathered up some clothes and headed for the door.

"This whole place is a privy," Colt pointed out.

Brom shook his head. "We shouldn't split up."

"We're fine! We're in a damn sewer!" She yanked open the door and left, and Owen exchanged curious looks with Colt and Brom.

As they waited, they unpacked their clean clothes to change into, discarding their wet and dirty clothes in a pile next to the door. After a while, the man who let them into the hideout came back with bowls of soup and a plate of bread.

"There's cups and a jug of water on the table," he said. "It sometimes takes Rem a while to come down here and meet."

"Thanks for the food," Brom said.

The man nodded and left, and they sat at the table. Colt dug right into his soup, lapping it up quickly. Owen's mouth watered as he looked at the steaming vegetables and beef. When he took a bite, his mouth warmed and his stomach instantly thanked him. The bread was tough to chew, but it was still good.

"Should put some of your spices in," Colt muttered through his food. "Where's that cayenne?"

Brom's spoon froze midair. "That's for the road."

"But this is pretty good. Imagine how much better it'll be with some spice."

"Buy your own, O'Malley."

When the door opened, Owen looked over as Gilda came back in, wearing fresh clothes. She dumped her soiled apparel on the floor next to the door and sighed. "We'll need to find a place to wash our clothes while we're here."

Brom cleared his throat and turned in his chair. "Of course. Where would you like to take them?"

Gilda's eyebrow popped up. "Who said I was taking them? You and Colt are perfectly capable."

"And that leaves you and Owen doing what?"

"We can take inventory of what we have left so we can go to the market."

Not long after they finished their meal, Rem came to their room, his hair and clothes looking damp and his face tired.

"We need supplies," Colt said, starting the conversation before Rem could say anything at all. "And someplace to wash our clothes."

Rem nodded. "There is a washing room here. As for supplies, I suggest you only go out two at a time to the market to lower any suspicion, and try to keep yourselves covered in some way." He cocked his head and glanced at Owen. "It may be beneficial for some of you to cut your hair, or possibly even dye it."

Owen thought about it. It would certainly help to cut his hair some, at least an inch or so shorter than it was.

"I can manage that," Brom said.

Owen nodded. "So can I."

Gilda crossed her arms. "I'll cut it for you both, but I'm not touching my own. I'll wear a scarf or hood, or even a hat, while out."

"Very well." Rem pulled out a pocket watch, which was peculiar to see, as only wealthy people held such items. Unless the man was a thief. It certainly looked like they were in a thief's den. "In the morning, I'll lead whichever two of you would like to go to the market out of here. I don't suggest lingering there for more than thirty minutes. The guards around here often turn a blind eye to mischief, but if you look suspicious, they'll be more than wary."

"Thank you," Owen said.

Rem caught his gaze with the slightest of nods before turning for the door.

"Alright, who wants a haircut first?" Gilda pulled out a pair of scissors from her bag and snipped the air.

Sighing, Brom scooted his chair out. "I suppose I'll go first."

"I"ll go next," Owen said, touching a long strand of his hair. "Perhaps just a trim."

"And Colt?" Gilda cocked her head at him.

Colt ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. "Not gonna make much of a difference for me."

"Then I guess you can wear a hat." Gilda moved to stand beside Brom and pulled his shoulders back until his back hit the chair, making him grunt. "Now, sit up straight and don't move. I've been known to make people bleed with sharp objects."

The sound of rain woke Owen. It wasn't the usual dripping he'd hear against a window, but rather the loud rush of hard rain pounding against stone. He sat up in his pallet with a groan, his muscles sore from riding a horse. The past three nights since leaving Pitchvale had been void of much sleep, and the hideout was a much needed accommodation.

"Morning, hun," came Gilda's voice.

He looked up to see her sitting at the table with a ball of yarn, knitting a sock. As Owen got off the bed, he stumbled a bit, and Gilda looked at him with wide eyes.

"I haven't ridden a horse in years," Owen said, wincing as he rubbed his chafed thighs. "It was very uncomfortable." When he straightened his back, the stretch felt good, but it also ached.

"Hm, well, at least you weren't riding behind Brom. The oaf is impossible to see around."

Owen chuckled and pulled his cloak on. There was no place for a fire in this stone room, and he moved his hands along his arms to trap the heat there.

"Are Colt and Brom at the market?"

"Yes. They left about thirty minutes ago. By the way, here." Gilda held out a knitted cap, and Owen cocked his head at her before taking it.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's yours, to keep you warmer through all this travel." She didn't look at him, and instead continued to knit.

His lips tugged up as he pulled the olive-green cap—which she matched to his scarf—all the way down to his ears. The soft fibers would keep the chill from his ears throughout the day, especially since Gilda had cut more of his hair than she'd intended to. Now his hair fell right at the base of his neck, and it could be easily covered with the cap.

"Thank you, Gilda." Owen beamed at her. "I love this."

"You're welcome."

Feeling giddy, Owen took out his folklore book and sat across the table from her. He wished he still had his journal, but it had gotten lost at the prison in Covehaven. He'd have to find something else to write in, but for now, the main focus was food and shelter. Until then, he'd have to indulge in familiar faerie tales instead.

As he flipped through the pages, the drawing of the Horgg fell out, and Owen's heart stilled as he picked it up and looked at it. Amias had given him the drawing in Green Springs, not long after he'd set out on his journey from Emberton. He recalled sitting in the tent with his uncle, discussing the lore of the Horgg. The beast was a massive giant that ripped heads from people's bodies, drained the blood, and carried the heads with him along the roads of the graveyard in Vanhelm.

Amias had told him the Horgg was a real creature. Seeing the drawing now saddened him, for his uncle had given it to him as a memento, a page from Alacor's library.

"What is that?" Gilda asked, glancing across the table.

"It's something my uncle gave me before we parted from him in Milarc." He showed her the picture of the Horgg.

Gilda looked down at the picture and squinted in the dim light. "What a beautiful drawing." Her hand brushed over the smudged ink. "Though very gruesome."

"I have others. This was my mother's book, Creatures of the North." When he pushed the book toward Gilda, she took up a pair of round spectacles from her pocket and pushed them up on her nose. Several minutes of silence followed as she flipped through the pages.

Owen cut his eyes to her as she read and smiled at a few of the pages. He could tell she enjoyed history and folklore as much as he did. His chest filled with warmth as he thought of his mother.

"These are all very interesting," she said, looking up. "I can't help but wonder where people get all these legends. They had to have existed at some point to be here in this book, and as we've seen, those sea creatures in the sewers beneath Covehaven were indeed the Geesh in this book."

"That's exactly what they were." Owen grinned, happy to share his excitement with someone else who believed in these tales a little more than others. It made him think of his own Essence, and he was reminded of something Amias had told him while on the road in Milarc. "My… uncle, he told me that Shadowborns could wield something called the Dark Flame. It's like a fire, except purple."

Gilda removed her spectacles and leaned her arms on the table. "I've heard of such a thing before, once. In a conversation with someone I used to work for when I was younger. They seemed to jest about it, but I've no doubt you can wield this strange fire. You want to try?"

"No." Owen shook his head. "But perhaps I can practice my Essence." He had only recently moved the apples when they'd found the abandoned cabin. Aside from that, he only used his Essence lately for sensing energy, as he always did.

"Go ahead," Gilda said. "Try moving anything in this room. I want to see how much you've learned since we came out of Milarc."

Straightening in his chair, Owen focused on the book on the table and held out his hand. Warmth powered through his veins. The sensation within his blood was so strong it felt as if his hand was a magnet. He could feel the mass of the book against his hand as it lifted up into the air.

He used his Essence to flip the cover open with ease and scrolled through the pages with the swipe of his finger.

"That's good," Gilda said. "No doubt you'll be stopping anyone that challenges you in combat before long."

Owen dropped his hand, and the book slapped onto the table. He winced as he looked at her. "Is that what my life is to be now? Just endless fighting?"

She gave a sly smile. "I didn't mean it that way. But we Astrans were given Essence for a reason. If you're in danger, you should use it. It's a gift, Owen, not a curse, as you think of it."

"I need to keep myself hidden, though, unless I want to be found by guards or other people who might turn me in."

Gilda shifted to sit beside him. "That's true, but there are ways to be discreet. You underestimate your power. You don't realize just how many things you can do with it. You're so used to the Legion and everyone else damning it that you feel shamed for using it. It's part of you. You should embrace that."

"It's hard to embrace something I hid for so long."

"I know, but there are ways of using it that won't pull attention to yourself. Disguised distractions are the best way to use it, then blame what happened on something else."

Just then, the chair next to him fell over onto its side.

Owen glanced at it, then cut his eyes to her.

"You didn't see me move my hand from under the table, did you?" she asked. When he shook his head, she continued, "Your Essence is a tool, Owen. Use it to your advantage to spook people, to distract them. How do you think I managed to live so long with Harold's clan? They knew there was something different about me, but they didn't know I was Astran, and they didn't mess with me. You don't have to let yourself be known."

Taking a deep breath, Owen moved his hand under the table as Gilda had. Getting a grasp on the chair, he curled his fingers as his Essence took hold of the wood. Within seconds, it was sitting back up again.

When Gilda smiled and nodded at him, he returned it.

The door swung open, making them jump, and Brom came into the room holding a bundle of fabric in one arm and carrying long wooden supports in the other.

"How nice of you to join us," Gilda said, leaning back in her chair.

"I found a tent." Brom set the supplies on the table.

"Where's Colt?" Owen asked.

"He was buying his own tent, but I was worried we were lingering too long, so I went ahead."

"You left him on his own?" Owen was already getting up from the table.

"He's right behind me," Brom replied.

But Owen grabbed his fur-lined coat and headed for the door. He kept the green knitted cap Gilda had made for him on his head.

"Where are you going?" Gilda asked.

"To find Colt."

Brom put his hand out. "Owen, you're the most vulnerable one of us, and this is a black market town."

Owen made a sour face. "Even more reason not to separate." He opened the door and made his way out. He got ten feet down the dark corridor before Brom caught up with him.

"Don't be so irate, Owen, I'm trying to help you here," Brom started. "This is a shady place."

Owen stopped and looked back at him. Brom looked much different with his hair cut short, falling just at the nape of his neck. "This place is shady, so you decided to leave Colt behind?" His brows furrowed.

"This place deals in illegal weapons and drugs, but Colt and I are aware of the layout. There's a street somewhere where they trade. You can"t just go searching anywhere." Brom looked around. "The guards seem to slack around, but there could be Hunters here, looking for Astrans, like you." His blue eyes fixed Owen with a stern look.

Owen crossed his arms and looked away. Brom may be twelve years older than him, but Owen held Essence, and he knew when someone was up to no good. But Brom was always sincere in his worries, and at the moment, a heavy wariness came from him.

Perhaps he does know better because he is older.

Softening, Owen said, "I understand. But you still shouldn't have left Colt out there alone. He could be five minutes behind you and something could still happen to him on the way back. So, that's why I'm going to find him."

"You're right." Brom smiled at him, then nodded past Owen. "But in this case, I think he's fine."

Owen looked back over his shoulder. When he saw Colt standing in the corridor, blinking curiously at him, Owen relaxed.

"I'll… let you help him the rest of the way." Brom patted Owen's shoulder before leaving.

Feeling foolish, Owen looked down at the broken stones on the floor.

"You worried about me?" Colt asked, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe…" Owen got out.

"I'm fine."

Gritting his teeth, Owen let out a hot breath of air and said, "We're supposed to have each other's backs at all times. If Brom's going to leave you in the market, then next time I'll just go with you instead." He met Colt's eyes, which appeared brown in the dim light. He had fabrics thrown over his shoulder and a crate full of supplies in his hands, which he set on the ground.

"I won't do it again, then," Colt said. "I don't want you angry at me."

"I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at Brom."

"Come here." Colt pulled Owen against him and rubbed his back. "Next time, you'll go with me. I promise. But I really was right behind him. Brom wouldn't have left me if it wasn't safe."

"Alright." Owen held Colt, indulging in his earthy, rainy scent, only slowly realizing he was soaked. "You need to dry off."

Pulling away, Colt tilted his head and smiled. "You know an empty room we can both change in?"

Owen bit his lip and laughed, his heart racing at the idea of them finding a vacant room. Instead, Owen stepped up to Colt and placed his hand around the back of Colt's neck, pulling him closer, and their lips met, hungry to taste each other after not having a moment alone for the past three days. When Colt's fingers slipped up under Owen's knit hat to feel his hair, Owen was glad that Gilda had left just enough for Colt to grab. His appetite for this man was growing more and more with each kiss, and finding that vacant room was growing tempting with every second.

When a door opened in the distance, they pulled apart, and Owen broke away, feeling flustered. When would they ever get a moment alone? He glanced down the corridor to see the man who had let them into this place carrying a crate of something in the open room beyond.

"Let's get back…" Owen muttered, helping Colt with the supplies he'd bought.

As they made their way back down, Colt tugged gently on Owen's hat. "Cute. Do I get one?"

Owen felt the sides of the soft yarn. "Do you want one?"

Colt shrugged. "Maybe."

In their room, Owen found Gilda sitting at the table, a ball of yarn and needle still in her hand, while Brom sat beside her, reading Owen's book while he ate from a bowl of fruit.

"Knitting me a hat too?" Colt asked.

"You never know," Gilda said. "It could be a hat, or something to stuff into your mouth when you get to talking too much."

Colt shook his head as he set down the crate, and Owen came up behind her and gave her a hug, saying, "I appreciate the one you gave me, it's warm."

"Oh goodness, your hands are cold," she said, but she patted his head anyway.

"Did you get a tent after all?" Brom nodded at the supplies.

"Yes." Colt eyed Owen, and Owen smiled and looked away, overjoyed that they would be sharing a tent alone. "Took a lot of haggling."

As Owen sat at the table, Colt pulled out his deck of cards, then placed another deck beside it. Eyeing it curiously, Owen picked up the newer looking deck and asked, "When did you get this?"

"At the market. Cards are dirt cheap here. Y'all wanna play?" Colt looked from Owen and Brom to Gilda.

"You want us to all play cards?" Gilda asked, raising her brows.

"Right, yeah. It's a good way to pass the time."

"Sure," Brom said. "I love cards. What do we play?"

"Coin rummy." Colt sat beside Owen and took up the two decks, then divided them both to shuffle separately.

"Coin rummy…" Brom shrugged. "I've played rummy."

"You play on your own hand with this game," Owen added.

"Right, and you get to buy cards with your coins." Colt gave them each a few half coppers to play with.

Gilda put down her knitting, seemingly interested now. "We toss in coins to buy cards? And who gets to keep all the coins at the end?"

"Believe it or not," Colt started, shuffling the deck, "this isn't a game I gamble in. It's my own rendition of rummy."

Brom chuckled and scooted his chair forward. "Alright, I'm in. Owen, you want to deal?"

"Yes, but we'll all deal, going clockwise around the table."

"Now what—"

"The same direction as the hand on a clock," Gilda said.

When Brom smirked at her, she only smiled, and he shook his head.

As Owen dealt the cards to each of them, Colt explained the game, and soon, they were engrossed in what seemed to be the most intense game of cards Owen had ever played. Every time Brom got a wild card to place alongside his other cards, Gilda would huff about how she had none at all to aid her. By the second game, after all of them lost to Brom, Gilda was in it to win it.

"I'm going to get you this time," she said, spreading her cards up in her hands. "At least one round, with you holding all your cards."

"Well, I guess we'll see?" Brom drew a card from the deck.

Owen nudged Colt with his elbow and said, "I think they like this game."

Colt flashed a smile and winked, making Owen's heart pull.

"So," Gilda started, putting one of her cards down in the pile and looking at Owen while Brom took his turn. "I couldn't help but wonder, ever since Thomas mentioned a letter from your uncle, if Arcmere was his plan all along."

Taking a card from the deck, Owen hesitated before he answered, "Well, he mentioned taking a ship to Arcmere. I didn't know it was something we'd do unless I said so."

"Hm," Gilda hummed, her face stone-like.

Brom looked from Owen to Gilda, his eyes wide. "Do you not like the idea?"

"It's just that the country is trying to restore itself after a failed war. The people fought against the Legion, and the Legion won. If you think they don't have a powerful presence over there, you"re daft." She paused to look at the card Owen put down to see if she wanted to buy it. "Not to mention that Arcmere is also a very advanced country. It won't take them long to catch on to these glowing Cores that Milarc has invented. Once they see Avathon using them, they'll be next in line. Give it ten years, you'll see I'm right."

"So then you're saying we shouldn't go to Arcmere?" Colt asked.

Gilda sighed. "I'm saying that… it may be good to settle someplace where there is very little Legion or guard presence, and you won't find that in Arcmere either. We could possibly lose this Wielder chasing us if we sail to Arcmere, but there's a chance we'd attract Wielders over there as well. We'd need to become backwoods dwellers and live off the land someplace."

"Right, got some experience with that." Colt shifted in his seat and placed four cards down, then discarded one.

Remorse fell over Owen, as he once again thought of how much danger he'd put his companions in trying to evade the Legion, and Wielders, and Hunters. "This is all a lot," he said. "Gilda, you and Brom are the least wanted. I think that… if we got to the point where it was too much, then you both should part from Colt and I."

They all went quiet for a long moment. Gilda took her turn, and then Brom. Then Gilda took in a breath and cleared her throat. "If it came to that, Owen, and you really felt it would help us all to separate, then we will. But for now, we stay together. Is that alright?" She looked up at him with soft eyes, and he nodded.

"Yes," Owen said, continuing their game. "So, rather than sail to Arcmere, we should focus on going somewhere remote, where there's no Legion presence?"

Gilda glanced at the cards in her hands. "Yes."

"Like where?" Brom asked.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Brom opened it to find Rem.

"I have grave news," Rem started, coming inside. He looked at each of them. "Word has spread of your escape from Milarc, and rumors are filtering in that Wielders are on your trail. Mind you, it is hearsay at the moment. But I imagine bounty hunters will soon make their way along this road."

"Wielders? As in more than one?" Owen asked.

Rem's eyes found his, and there was something in the way the man stared at him that told him things were about to worsen. "Yes. Two Wielders marching from Milarc."

"Do you know where they are now?" Colt asked, getting to his feet.

"They were closing in on Pitchvale, but we got ahead of them. I can only hope our trail will grow cold the further we get ahead. Our next stop is Coopersburgh. It's a very rich town well into Calwick. It should take us over a week to get there on horseback, but we'll need to avoid towns for now."

"You want us to ride all week without stopping at other towns?" Gilda raised an eyebrow and stood from her chair.

Rem nodded at her. "Normally, I would make other stops along the way, but the whole country will know of you all very soon. It's too risky for you to be in any town for long. There are only a few safe stops along the roads we'll take."

"But Coopersburgh is a good idea?" Brom asked, his brow furrowing. "It's a very lavish town."

Rem raised his chin. "That it is, but you won't be in Coopersburgh long enough for anyone to notice your presence. I am a shareholder in Adelon Estates. In exchange for my expertise, the estate owner allows me to utilize an extensive system of catacombs that extend for miles beneath the city and connect to his estates. Such tunnels provide excellent cover for those on the Silent Road."

"I think we'd be noticed there more than anywhere else." Gilda crossed her arms. "We'd stick out like sore thumbs with how we're dressed."

"Rest assured, I will take care of any rumors circulating around the town when we arrive. We should be there for no longer than two days. We will spend another night here, but be ready to leave very early in the morning. We will take little used bridle paths to Coopersburgh. If we meet with soldiers or Wielders along the way, I will handle them." Rem nodded and left.

When the door closed, Colt glanced at Owen and asked, "You okay going forward with this?"

"What other choice do we have?" Owen said. "We can't let the Wielders catch up to us."

"Especially with word spreading out." Gilda sighed and packed up her yarn. "I have a feeling we won't be stopping this travel all winter. Be prepared. We may have to do as Rem suggested earlier and dye our hair."

"I'm not putting any other color on my hair," Brom said.

Colt shook his head. "Me either."

Gilda put her hands on her hips, staring at each of them, before her eyes landed on Owen, and she glanced up at the hat he still wore. "Fine, I suppose I'll knit you all hats, for gods' sakes! Colt, yours is next. I hope you like purple."