During the hour-long walk down the grassy, wagon-rutted road, Lyle explained to Iris and Clive the bear-hunting business he was a part of.

“Won’t your family miss you if you leave with us?” Iris asked after he finished.

“I just have to get my cousin Victoria to take my spot, and then they should be fine without me for the week.”

“No, I mean, won’t they worry about you if you disappear for a few days, or—however long it takes to get to Northfort? What will you tell them?”

Lyle pointed to his injured leg. “I’m supposed to be taking it easy at home. They’ll think I’m there.”

“What about your parents? They won’t let you leave, will they?”

“I don’t have parents,” he said, which was mostly true. He didn’t have any parents who would be aware enough to worry about him missing. He was always missing from home.

It looked like Iris didn’t know what to say to that, so Lyle went on, “I do have a brother, but I can get him to cover me. We’ll split the money.”

“He could come with us,” Clive suggested. “Maybe he could help.”

Lyle imagined Brandon reading a book while they walked to Northfort, or stopping them every few minutes to point out an interesting bird or insect. “No, he wouldn’t be much help.”

“So you . . . live alone with your brother?” Iris inquired.

“Yes.”

“What will you spend the money on?” Clive asked.

“My brother will spend his on getting out of the valley. I’ll spend mine on . . .” There was no reason to lie. “Marrying a girl.”

“Ooh,” Iris said. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Jessica.” Lyle broke into a smile again at the thought of her, but hid it from them. “She’s the town healer.”

Clive pointed to the scars on Lyle’s neck, apparently not interested in the current topic. “How did you get those?”

“That’s none of your business,” Iris told her brother.

“It’s all right,” Lyle said, running his fingers over the lumps. “It was a bear.”

“Will you tell us what happened?” Clive asked.

He took a moment to answer. The memory still gave him chills. “My uncle was training me. Every year, before the season, we go out and make sure all of the bears run when they hear the whistle. If they don’t, they get hit with a pot—a smaller one than what I used on Tanter, just a test shot. My uncle and I were checking on one of the bigger males—Ranter. He’s Tanter’s brother. I made a mistake, and he charged me.” The truth was that when the bear saw him, Lyle had frozen and forgotten all of his training. “My uncle saved my life. That’s when I got a face full of pepper.”

Uncle Roderick had made sure that all Lyle took away from that experience was a lesson. A mistake to never make again. Always be ready. Never show fear—never let them see you as prey. And never, ever, hesitate.

That was what his uncle told him, but Lyle had taken his own lesson from it: never even let fear enter your heart. Throw yourself into action with no worry for your life, or you will die.

He had saved a girl’s life today with that thinking.

“The uncle you just spoke to?” Iris inquired.

“Yes.”

“I’m . . . sorry that you had to lie to him.”

Lyle shrugged. He would get hell for it later. Or maybe, when he returned and explained why he’d done it, his uncle would understand. “It’s fine,” he said.

He looked over at her. She might have been the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. He hadn’t seen all that many, but still. Her jet-black hair—a color he had never seen before—was somewhere between wavy and curly. It fell halfway down her back and was incredibly clean and shiny. She held her head high and looked him in the eyes every time she spoke.

She caught him looking at her, so he covered it by saying, “I’ve told you my whole story. Will you explain at least a little bit of what I’m getting myself into?”

Iris exchanged a look with her brother. “We . . . really shouldn’t tell you any more than we already have.”

“Not even how you got into that tunnel? Or why?”

Iris hesitated, then said, “Our country is at war. The place we were staying was attacked, and we were sent down an escape route. It was supposed to lead to Northfort, but we got lost in the tunnels. Please just—remember not to tell anyone our names.”

“We should make up new names,” Clive said happily. “For when we’re around other people. I’ll be George.”

“George?” Iris asked, making a face. “Why George?”

“I don’t know, I just like it. Why, what’s your idea?”

“I,” Iris said in a dignified way, “will go by Tahlia.”

“But that’s Mother’s name,” Clive complained. “That’s not creative at all.”

“It’s a common name in the north, and I’ll easily respond to it,” she explained. “It’s a smart idea. Unlike George.”

“I like George,” Lyle said, amused by the familiar sibling banter.

“Thank you,” Clive said, gesturing to him. “See, Iris? It’s a good name.”

Iris rolled her eyes.

“Is your mother . . .” Lyle said slowly, like it was a guessing game, “nobility?”

They both went quiet.

He glanced back at them. “You realize that when you don’t say anything, it makes it obvious that I’m right, yeah?” He managed to sound calm, but in reality, his heart had skipped a beat. Nobility. The station was just as much a fantasy to him as castles and oceans.

Iris cocked a smile.

“I’m not going to tell anyone your names,” Lyle went on. “I already swore to you I wouldn’t.”

“Thank you. And yes, we’re nobility,” Iris said. “Can we leave it at that?”

Lyle inclined his head in agreement. They were getting close to town, now, anyway.

“My feet hurt,” Clive complained.

“How long were you in that tunnel?” Lyle inquired.

“Since daybreak,” Iris sighed.

“Where did you start from?”

Iris shook her head. “Can’t tell you that.”

“Is someone after you, is that why I can’t tell anyone about you?”

“There might be,” Iris said darkly. “I don’t actually know.”

“Who?”

“Everyone?” Clive muttered under his breath, but Lyle’s ears caught it anyway.

“Everyone in the entire world?” Lyle asked sarcastically.

They went quiet.

He turned around to stare at them.

“No,” Iris said quickly, realizing, “No, not everyone—Ordics. Ordic clansmen. They—might want to hold us for ransom to make our mother pay. But—“ she added quickly, “she’ll pay you just as much.”

“I’m not going to hold you ransom,” Lyle assured her, amused. He wasn’t entirely sure what the word even meant. “We’re just going to get you to Northfort.”

They were almost in view of the town, then, so he took them on a side path through the grass. They passed by his house a minute later, but he took them on the path in which you could barely glimpse the roof, and he didn’t look over. The last thing he wanted nobility to know about him was that he lived on what used to be a pig farm.

A few minutes later—Iris and Clive had gone very quiet once they got off the main road because Lyle had forgotten to tell them that bears didn’t come over here—they reached the eastern cabin. Hunters stayed in it when hunting bears in the northeast section, but no one was there now. Nor would anyone come near it, this week.

It was a one-story house, always kept clean and organized. He grabbed the key from a windowsill—they only locked it to keep animals out—and opened the front door for them.

“Ooh, this is nice,” Iris said quietly as she wandered inside and looked around. “So cozy.”

Two bedrooms held four beds each—bunk beds—and the living room had plenty of space to cook and sit around the fireplace. He pulled small stores of dried food out of cabinets and gave it to them, and showed them where the canisters of water were.

“I’m going to go into town,” he told them. “I’ll get us fresh food, find some clothing for you, and try to find a map.”

They looked at him balefully. “You’re leaving us here alone?” Iris asked.

He handed her the key. “Lock it behind me if you like. Don’t make a fire until it’s dark though—the smoke would be visible from town.”

“Are you sure you have to go?” Iris asked uneasily.

“I thought you didn’t trust me,” Lyle teased. “Now you don’t want me to go?”

“I trust you more than the bears.”

“Bears can’t open doors.”

“Can’t they break windows?”

“The windows are reinforced with metal bars. I promise the bears can’t get in here.”

She still looked suspicious, so Lyle pointed to his leg, which was covered in half-dried blood below the poorly-made bandage. His shoe was soaked through with it.

“Oh, right,” Iris said. “I suppose you do need to get that looked at.”

Clive glanced at the beds longingly.

“You can sleep,” Lyle said. “You’re safe here.”

Iris gave him a long, appraising look.

“I promise,” he insisted. “I’ll be right back.” And he was mostly sure that he would be.

 

He went to Victoria’s house first, to ask her to take his shift for the week.

His older cousin complained, but then Lyle turned to show her the cut on the back of his leg. It was not as bad as he was leading people to believe, but all the blood certainly made it convincing.

“Fine,” Victoria said grudgingly. “Just this once.” Though she was nineteen, Victoria didn’t weigh very much, so she would have little trouble climbing the rocks. She nodded down the road. “Go get Jessica to fix that up, and give her a kiss while you’re at it. She told me she’s lonely.”

His heart skipped as he remembered that he was supposed to visit Jessica that night. He couldn’t leave Iris and Clive unattended for that long. But what would he tell Jessica?

Victoria pushed him out of her doorway in the direction of where Jessica lived. Lyle, distracted by his thoughts, didn’t move his feet in time and tripped. He landed hard on his tailbone, then looked up at Victoria accusingly and gestured to his wounded leg.

Victoria made a face at him that reminded him very much of her sister Raven. “I was there when a bear nearly took your head off and you wanted to go back out the next day, Lyle, don’t pretend to be pathetic.”

Lyle grinned and got to his feet. “Yeah, whatever. Hey—is anything happening in Brey right now?”

“What are you going to do, limp all the way over there while I do your job for you?”

“I’m thinking about taking Brandon over there soon, to get him out of the house.”

She crossed her arms and leaned on the door frame. “You know that if you two want to run away from your father, you can just come stay with me and Roger for a bit.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Victoria snickered. “All right. Well, there was a circus group passing through, but they’ve just finished performing.”

“When did they finish?”

“I think they were going to pack up tonight and leave tomorrow morning, why?”

“Just wondering.” So he might be able to catch a ride with them, if they were going in the right direction. He thought it would be too suspicious to ask which direction they were going, but . . . “Where are they from?”

“Somewhere down south, I think. Why?”

“No reason, just wondering.” Then they were probably heading north. Perfect.

“All right, well, Yelina came in with them and she’s going to stay awhile, if for whatever reason you feel the desire to talk to the old hag.”

“I like Yelina,” Lyle protested. She was a nomad who led and organized caravans that passed through, and often brought them news from the Outside.

“You and no one else in the world. She doesn’t even like you, Lyle. But that’s pretty much it for entertainment. Unless traders come through, it’ll be about as boring as here.”

“I don’t know what kind of boring life you’re living,” he said seriously, pointing to his leg, “but mine is full of adventure and near-death experiences.”

She pushed his head away from her. “Get out of here.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said aimlessly, turning away. The moment Victoria shut the door behind him, he was flooded with guilt. How many lies was he going to spread around to his own family for these strangers? He had promised, though—and if he told a single person the truth, the whole town would know within hours, and they would not let him go alone with strangers to Northfort. The town would take it out of his hands. He grit his teeth.

As soon as this was over, he would apologize to everyone for lying and explain why he had done it. But he would not apologize for taking an opportunity for money or for helping strangers who were lost.

He switched directions, remembering he had to update Aunt Mary, and he wanted to go in with a still-bloody leg to make his point more believable.

Aunt Mary took it well, and said the same thing as her husband had: “Get Jessica to fix it, and then go rest up at home for a few days, all right? Don’t walk on that unless you have to.”

It would be a good cover for when he went missing, Lyle figured—or it would be, if any of them actually believed he would sit around all week with his father in the living room, waiting for a cut to heal. They were just taking the chance to try to get him to relax for once.

Still, it was the best cover he could hope for.

Before he left Mary’s house, he asked if he could have a map. Beth and Isabel had a few lying around, since they were planning to take a trip out of the valley soon. “It’s for Brandon,” he said, and did not have to explain any further. Brandon had studied every bit of information about the world that the town owned. He couldn’t get enough of it.

Aunt Mary spread three maps on the dining table and let him choose. Lyle looked them over until he found the word Northfort, then snatched that one up. On his way out she handed him a basket of eggs, some fresh bear meat from the bear their clients had hunted the previous week, and bread, for his days at home.

He took it gratefully, for it meant he wouldn’t have to go around town to collect food for Iris and Clive. He felt like there was something else he was supposed to say, but luckily, his aunt just pushed him out of the door and told him he’d better take his time and rest.

Next, he went to his grandmother’s house, where Jessica cleaned him up and bandaged the wound, but said it didn’t need stitches. His grandmother complained and told her she hadn’t bandaged it properly. Jessica ignored her.

Lyle told them the details of the day the same way he’d told everyone else. He exaggerated a few points and made it evident that he was exhausted. By the end, Jessica was telling him to go home and rest up. His grandmother was sighing and explaining all of the mistakes he’d made. Her husband had been in charge of the bear-hunting business before her son, Roderick.

As Jessica walked Lyle out to the porch, she said, “Maybe tomorrow night, then?”

He grimaced. He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to make it sound like he was disinterested. “Uh—well—this week—I’m really worn out, maybe . . . maybe next week?”

She looked at him skeptically. It didn’t sound like him at all to claim to be too worn out for anything. If this injury had happened another day, Lyle would be the one telling everyone he was perfectly fine and didn’t need any rest. He would probably be refusing to let Victoria take his place, and would go right back out on those rocks the next day.

“All . . . right?” Jessica said uncertainly.

“Soon, I promise,” he assured her. And with enough money to easily marry you, he thought. She still looked unconvinced, and he really wanted her to know how he felt, so he took Victoria’s advice and kissed her.

It didn’t feel as good as he thought it would, and when he left her and started back into the grass, he was uneasy. Everything was changing, and he was lying to everyone. What would Jessica think of him when he returned, when she learned why he had done that? When she learned that he didn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth?

He shook it off. The sun had just set below the craggy horizon of mountains, and the familiar chill was quickly setting in. The wind rustled in the grass alongside the path as he walked to his house.

The reasonable decision would be to go back and confess everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that—he had already lied too many times to immediately go back and apologize. That was stupid. He was already in this.

As he walked down the overgrown road to his house, he let the grass whisper him into a calmer state. He knew what he was doing. If there was anything he knew he could do, it was be a guide. He would get Iris and Clive to Northfort, whatever it took.

 

As Lyle approached his own home, he really looked at it for the first time in a while. There were pig pins and troughs built alongside the left side of the house, empty of animals, but with some straw still scattered along the ground. They used to raise pigs, but after his mother died and his father took a turn for the utterly useless, they couldn’t keep it up anymore.

Lyle had never liked the pigs, anyway. He had childhood memories of being barreled over by them while trying to play, and of having to clean out their pins and feed them as chores. They had been loud and smelly, but sometimes amusing. The piglets had been fun playmates. And his mother had let him and Brandon name every pig. His father had not called the pigs by their names, for he was the one who had to slaughter them in the end.

In those days, his father had been resilient, strong, and happy. His father had taught him how to be still and listen to the grass. He had been a guide when he was Lyle’s age. His mother had, too—it was her side of the family that ran the business, after all.

He recalled a specific day, when all four of them were in town, and his mother was chatting for hours with her family. Meanwhile, his father, who was not much of a talker, had entertained Lyle and Brandon outside by teaching them swordplay with sticks. They had laughed themselves silly.

Lyle stopped and sat on a boulder before heading in. There were lots of boulders out here—they had rolled down the mountains and found a home here in the soft grassland.

After a moment his restless legs made him get back up, and he decided instead to climb onto the roof. It was a complicated thing to do, the footholds being narrow windowsills and cracks in the stone, but it was exactly what he needed. When he reached the top, he had to carefully step over a few places he didn’t trust to hold his weight, and then finally he sat in his favorite spot, with the warm chimney to his back, and looked up at the sky, where the stars were appearing one by one.

He took a deep breath and shivered.

He shouldn’t be bitter about his father. He had no right. This man who had raised him and taught him nearly everything he knew—he wasn’t even his real father.

Lyle’s real father was a Cambrian soldier his mother had met while in Brey, and who was long gone before she realized she’d gotten more than she bargained for. She had never even told Lyle the man’s name.

The man he called Father had married her quickly to help her cover it up, as well as help her afford the child. He was a friend of hers, and she had been in trouble. So he helped her.

Your father is a good man, Uncle Roderick would say. And Lyle knew it was true. Not once in his life had he ever seen or felt a sliver of resentment from his father, or favoritism toward Brandon, who was his real son.

The cover-up didn’t work very well, in the end, when Lyle came out as the only blond person in town. The town didn’t really care, though—the only person who really would have been upset was his grandmother, but she was the only person who hadn’t figured it out yet. She just kept going on about how her great-great-grandfather had been blond. She would never believe her daughter capable of once being young and frivolous.

Lyle should not be bitter that his mother’s death had destroyed his father, but it wasn’t fair that Lyle had to take over a parent’s job. His father felt guilty for it, and tried to get better every day—but he didn’t.

I know this is hard for you to see, Aunt Mary would say, but your father is young.

His parents had been little older than himself when they were married, so his father was in his early thirties—but Lyle didn’t see how that was an excuse, since he was fifteen and doing his father’s job.

Iris and Clive probably wouldn’t have to work a single day in their lives. Who knew how much a reward for them might cover for him? He might never have to work again.

Lyle squeezed his head between his knees. He didn’t want to leave this valley. He never had. But if he did this job, if he left this valley and took these children home, he could return with a fortune to support his family. With the stress gone, maybe . . . maybe his father would recover, maybe they could be a family again.

Or maybe his father would just spend it on more alcohol.

Lyle’s nails bit into his scalp. He wanted to scream with frustration that he had to make this decision alone.

He sat up and took a deep breath, trying to listen to the grass and return his mind to stillness. It took a few tries, for his worries kept pushing their way back in, but eventually he managed it. He wanted to know what his gut had to say. He closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. The grass whispered and swayed for miles all around him, like a huge, unceasing, breathing being.

Go.

This was an opportunity. What were the chances that this would happen the way it did? That his cousins would have taken over guiding this week, and that his uncle would have stationed him on the western ridge, in sight of where Iris and Clive had appeared?

Did Lyle know enough about the Outside to guide them? Not really, but he knew a lot about being a guide and protecting people. He had a map, now. There were roads. He had weapons. How hard could it be?

On the other hand, he did not know how big the world was. Maybe it went on forever. He had a strange fear that once he went out there, it would just keep getting bigger. He imagined himself getting dragged farther and farther from home until he was too far to ever return.

This was a terrible idea. His impulsiveness had gotten ahead of him.

He pulled at his hair and sighed.

And yet, he didn’t think he could give up on this and go back to his life. He was tired of waiting for things to get better.

 

When Lyle opened the door to his home, he was assaulted by loud snoring and the acrid smell of something burning.

He jumped to pull the food away from the flame, placed it on the table, then he rounded on his father, who was fast asleep in the chair beside the fire. His wife’s bear-skin blanket was wrapped around his shoulders.

Ruffled, but not angry enough to wake his father and have to talk to him, Lyle tossed a large piece of bear meat over the flame and watched it sizzle. He thought about tossing the other piece of meat onto his father’s face, but refrained.

He strode to his bedroom door and opened it. Brandon sat on the lower bunk, reading by candlelight. He jumped when Lyle entered, then sighed. “How do you come in so quietly?”

“What are you reading?” Lyle sat on the bed next to his brother and pulled the book out of his hands. “This one again?” It was The Tales of Brandon the Brave. It was a story about a legendary warrior from long ago who traveled around the world to slay great beasts and mythical monsters, saving towns and princesses.

Their mother had bought it for Brandon years ago, and he had read it about a hundred times by now.

“I’ll read something else if you can find me something else.”

Lyle handed the book back. “I’ll find you something in Brey.”

“You’re going to Brey? When?”

Lyle went to pack his bags. “Tomorrow.”

“What for?”

Lyle did not want to lie to his brother. They had spent nearly every day of their lives together, and had gone through their mother’s death and their father’s decline together. A promise to a stranger was nothing compared to that. Besides, he told himself, if something went wrong and he didn’t return, at least one person would know the truth—and know where to look for him.

So, as he packed, he told Brandon everything. When he finished, Brandon’s eyes were wide with excitement and he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s a real adventure, Lyle! In real life! A princess to save from a monster, a trek through unknown lands—“

“I highly doubt she’s a princess,” Lyle retorted. “Just rich.”

“Close enough!” Brandon knelt before his brother, who was sitting on the ground folding clothes into a bag. “You have to take me with you.”

“I can’t, Brandon—look, I’m doing this for the money, and when I come back you can use your share to go on any adventure you like.”

Brandon leaned back from him, affronted. “How is it my share if I haven’t earned it?”

“Because I’m giving it to you—look, I’ll be back in just a few days, all right? Your job is to cover for me if anyone comes looking.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Why can’t I come?”

“Because you’d be another mouth to feed, and another person to protect,” Lyle said evasively, not wanting to tell his brother outright that he would be useless on this quest—more a hindrance than a help, truly. All he did all day was read, he didn’t have any useful skills for this sort of thing.

“I know things about the world,” Brandon said defensively, apparently seeing right through him. “I can help!”

“So do they. Look, I just—I don’t want you to get hurt. Some dangerous people might be after us. Please, just stay at home and cover me—if you don’t, the whole thing could be ruined.”

Brandon scowled.

“Aunt Mary thinks I’m going to stay home and take it easy for a few days because of my leg,” Lyle went on, “and I’ll tell Father I’m staying in town. If we’re lucky, no one will notice I’m gone until I’m back. But if they do come looking, tell them . . . that I’m out in the grass, taking a walk. If they figure out I’m really gone, tell them I went to Brey, but I didn’t say why. All right?”

Brandon was still watching him reproachfully.

“All right?”

Brandon nodded stiffly.

Lyle finished stuffing clothing into his bag and tied it closed with his teeth. “If I’m not back in a week, you can tell them the truth.”

“A week?”

“I don’t know how long it will take, all right? But I will be back as soon as I can.” He slung his pack over his shoulder. Between the food Aunt Mary had given him and what was stocked in the cabin, they should have enough for three people for a few days, and they could buy more in Brey if they needed to.

He should bring money. His wages from last week might not be enough—he didn’t know how long they would be out there trying to eat and stay warm. He pulled a box out from under his bed, pried it open with his knife, and pocketed the extra money he had been saving for Brandon. He would replace it a hundred times over.

Passing Brandon, who was sitting on the bed glaring at him, Lyle went back out to the living room and flipped the meat over. He looked over at his father. Still asleep. Lyle came to stand before him, blocking the warmth from the fire.

“Father.”

His father stirred, then blinked up at him. His eyes were glassy, and he smelled of liquor. He suddenly sat up straight and looked around. “Oh, the food . . .” He saw the burnt food on the table, sighed heavily, and leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry, I meant to . . .” He rubbed an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin dinner. I . . . I had a rough day.”

“Rough day sleeping and drinking?” Lyle asked quietly. His general strategy was to not talk to his father at all, because when he did, nothing nice came out of his mouth. But he didn’t care right now. He wouldn’t have to see his father for a few days after this, anyway.

Brandon appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, frowning like he was going to tell Lyle off, but he just stood there, twisting his hands.

Their father swallowed thickly and looked up at Lyle. “I’m sorry, Lyle. I’ll—I’ll do better tomorrow.”

Lyle said nothing. He hated those words more than anything.

Their father sighed and rubbed his face, but then he caught sight of Lyle’s bandaged leg and blood-stained shoe. “What happened?”

“I . . .” Lyle shrugged. “I fell down the rocks and a bear attacked me.”

His father stood up. “What? Gods, Lyle, are you all right?”

Lyle took a step back. “I’m fine.”

It looked like his father wanted to hug him, but retracted when he saw Lyle’s expression. “You are? Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” Lyle repeated. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m staying in town tonight, with Aunt Mary. For a job. It might take a few days, though.”

“Oh. All right.” He saw the pack on Lyle’s back, and the meat roasting on the fire. “Right. I’ll . . .” He sighed and sat back down on the chair. “Thank you for making dinner, Lyle. I’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.”

Lyle suddenly remembered what Raven had told him earlier that day. He’d forgotten in the excitement. She’d said something about being upset with people who were trying to get better only made it worse. Maybe he could try another approach.

“All right,” Lyle said genuinely, as if he actually believed his father would do that. He might, but it was more likely he would forget.

His father looked up at him, surprised.

Not knowing what else to say, Lyle put a hand on his father’s shoulder for just a moment as he headed for the door. It made him feel strange, the kindness. He glanced at Brandon. His brother’s look had softened, but when Lyle reached for the door, Brandon’s face changed almost comically right back to anger.

Guilt set in, but Lyle steeled himself. He was protecting his brother, and he was doing this to get them the money they needed. It would all be over in a few days. He closed the door behind him and slipped out into the dark grassland.