After the frost from a clear night, low cloud moved in, bringing drizzle. Then it took to raining in the afternoon. Now, instead of the beads of drizzle slowly seeping through their clothing, each drop penetrated the cotton immediately, biting at Llew’s skin with its cold. Their hair and clothes clung to them, and Jonas’s shirt proved too thin, as the black lines of his gryphon tattoo showed through, even against his golden brown skin. The shirt’s stripes broke it up, but it didn’t take much to resolve the image if you knew what you were looking for. It certainly wasn’t a disguise they could count on.

  One advantage of simply having no option but to keep moving was that at least it kept Llew somewhat warm against the damp chill even as the dark of another night set in. Their pace shackled by hunger, and Jonas’s injuries, they hadn’t found a town in which to seek help, yet. The uneven ground presented its own challenges in the dark, and Jonas was starting to make more involuntary sounds as they went. She reached out to offer comfort only to find his hand cold and clammy. She cursed under her breath. There was nothing they could do but push on through mud and clamber over rocky outcrops; just keep on moving.

  A little before sunrise, they dared approach a wooden building backing up to the river. The building had no obvious purpose, no trinkets of industry, or decoration. The building was raised, wooden boards hiding an empty cavity beneath, suggesting the currently slow river might flood occasionally.

  All was quiet. The only sign of life: the aroma of freshly baking bread – from humble kitchen or bakery, they didn’t know, but either would suffice – and wood smoke. Desperation reeled them in.

  They loitered around the side of the bakery. The smell only made them hungrier, emphasizing the fact they hadn’t eaten anything substantial for more than a day. Torturous as it was, enveloped in that smell, it was also their best chance of meeting a friendly local.

  The rain eased back to a shower, so they were merely soaking rather than sopping. Time ticked on and Jonas blew out and sucked in shaky breaths, hugging himself in an effort to keep warm. Llew might’ve hugged him herself, but they needed more than that. They needed somewhere warm and dry, like a living space above a bakery. They were running out of options. They would have to take the risk.

  “I’ll go in alone,” she said. “If they’re hostile, I’ll get away easier and we can try the next place.” Nothing that would smell as good as this, though.

  Jonas nodded and sprayed rain from his lips as he blasted a breath between his teeth. As time went on, he struggled more and more to hide his pain and misery from Llew – or any potential threats.

  They had better not be hostile.

  A door opened, a bell jingled, a door closed. Perhaps a patron leaving the bakery. Llew waited a few moments, giving the customer time to leave before she peeled away to approach the entry. Steps led up to a door with a single word: Bakery, and a painting of a range of loaves beside. Her mouth watered. She hoped they were friendly.

  She gripped the handrail and put her foot on the bottom step. The door opened, its entry bell ringing again, and a young woman about Llew’s age with a jute sack clamped under one arm and about to open an umbrella looked down at Llew. And Llew looked up at her. There was something about the girl. Most would likely call her plain, with brown hair and blue eyes not unlike Llew’s. But there was something else. Didn’t matter. If she wasn’t the baker she was of no use to Llew. Just hurry on down the stairs and away, young lady.

  The girl backed up. The door closed again, the girl disappearing inside.

  Indecision froze Llew to the spot. Why had the young woman returned inside? Could it be she was such a kind soul she was going to buy another loaf of bread for Llew? It seemed too good to be true, and not nearly as convincing as the idea that a description of the escaped Aenuk had been spread far and wide and right now the girl was telling the baker to contact the authorities. Or worse. What if there was a soldier taking shelter in the bakery itself?

  Before she could react, or even decide what she would be reacting to, the door opened again. Without thinking, Llew darted back around the corner of the bakery. She wiped her dripping hair out of her eyes and pressed her back against the wall. Listening.

  “What—?” Jonas began.

  “Shh.” Llew didn’t mean for it to sound harsh.

  There was a creak that must have been the top step up to the bakery, the wet wood squeaking underfoot. Then nothing over the constant hiss of drizzle and the light breeze sweeping along the road.

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  Llew’s mind was in turmoil. They needed help, but putting their safety in another’s hands meant risking being turned over to the authorities. Think, think, Llew. She looked to Jonas. He had his hands up around his biceps, hugging himself. His breath was ragged. And there was a sheen to his skin that maybe wasn’t due to the rain.

  Another creak and dull thud. Second step? Last? The girl was taking it slow. Sneaking down the stairs. Not well. Maybe she thought she could take Llew by surprise. Well, if she thought she had the advantage in this scenario, she had some learning coming. Llew could take her on, take her down, and take the bread. Then demand directions to a doctor.

  One more dull thud, then soft crunches of feet on mud. Llew tensed, preparing to strike. The girl tottered into the street, sack in one hand, umbrella held up in the other, and her back to Llew. She wore a warm-looking cloak. Maybe even waterproof. But, what was she doing? Her head was to the side, her shoulders angled; her whole back curved.

  With her body poised to attack, Llew’s mind tumbled through thoughts of shoving the woman over, stealing the bread, and threatening her for information. She’d take the coat, too. It looked warm. Only … she couldn’t.

  Back in Cheer, the crippled children had fared even worse than the other orphans. Some hadn’t even been orphans, not really; just abandoned to the streets. Llew hadn’t known many; only in passing, and not for long.

  The young woman turned and looked directly at Llew. She shuffled closer, her body stiff, legs splayed, one foot turned inward, mouth in a crooked grin. She reached Llew and held out her umbrella. Llew took it without even thinking. Dumbstruck, she opened her mouth to say … she didn’t know what. Argue? It was raining and the girl had handed her an umbrella while she dug in her sack and withdrew a loaf of bread. Llew accepted the bread. The girl’s hand swung to hover in front of her umbrella again. A bit slow, Llew handed the umbrella back and looked down at the loaf in her hand. She had bread. And she hadn’t had to steal to get it. She was dumbfounded.

  The girl’s hand wrapped around Llew’s on the umbrella handle; gentle, but deliberate, shocking Llew back to reality and the real risk of being identified as an escaped Aenuk. Nothing happened. No transfer of energy.

  Llew slipped her hand out from beneath the other young woman’s.

  “Th— thank you,” Llew said, the cold forcing a stutter. Rain dripped into Llew’s mouth, making her slurp on the words. She clutched the bread to her stomach, hunched over in an attempt to keep it dry, and stepped back towards Jonas.

  The young woman looked past Llew and her face went slack. She took a tottering step towards them, eyes locked on Jonas as if Llew had suddenly become invisible.

  “It is you, isn’t it?” she said before taking another look at Llew. That glance held no hint of recognition. At least that told Llew her description wasn’t well known, yet.

  Llew wasn’t sure if confirming the girl’s assumptions was a good idea. Generally, admitting a weakness wasn’t, but they could hardly hide Jonas’s feverish state, nor the blood staining their clothing. Informing the girl that Llew was Aenuk might assert a certain power, it might also mean a swift return to the Turhmos’s Aenuk cells. The girl’s apparent awe at seeing Jonas was probably a good sign. There was no reason to draw her focus elsewhere, not yet.

  “It’s him. And he needs help, if you know where we can find some—”

  “My mama’s a s— surgeon.” Her s’s were soft, though not quite to the point of a full lisp.

  Jonas glanced at Llew, dragged a sleeve under his nose, sniffed deeply, and coughed.

  Llew looked at him sharply. They didn’t need him getting sick on top of what they already had to deal with. But he shrugged his eyebrows and flicked a glance at the girl. Yes, it had been Llew who’d said there had to be other nice people in Turhmos. But caught in the moment, Llew wasn’t so sure. She glanced down at Jonas’s boot, within which his flesh was dying, and had the sinking feeling that regardless of whether they could trust this girl, they were going to have to. If her ma was the local surgeon, meeting her was a gift. Time, and the time to question, was running out.