Blood Red Road

to come after me. I can manage perfectly fine on my own. I don’t need yer help. Go on, git outta here.
    Ain’t you bin listenin? He grabs my arm. I cain’t!
    We glare at each other. The space between us feels heavy somehow. It presses aginst me, makes it hard to breathe. Finally I says, So, are you gonna take me to Freedom Fields or not?
    He runs a hand over his head. I must be crazy to even think about it, he mutters. Yes. I am. But first … I need to cool down.
    He pulls off his boots an yanks his shirt over his head.
    I stare at his chest. I cain’t seem to make my eyes move away. When I seen him without his shirt before, back at Hopetown, all I noticed was the scars. But now all I can see is how lean an strong he is. With wide shoulders an arms roped with muscle. He ain’t got no hair on his chest, not like Pa an Lugh. My fingers itch to touch it. Find out if his skin feels as smooth as it looks.
    Be careful, Angel, he says. When you stare at a man like that, he’s likely to git any number of … innerestin ideas.
    I don’t move.
    He reaches fer the fastenin of his britches. Raises one eyebrow. You got three seconds, he says, then they’re comin down. He starts to count. One … two …
    I turn an run.
    I can still hear him laughin when I’m halfways back to camp.

    Maev sits crosslegged on her cot in the bunkhouse, watchin me pack the gear she’s gived me. She tosses a pebble from one hand to th’other.
    Whaddya know about this Jack character anyways? she says. It don’t feel right, him showin up outta the blue like this.
    I know as much about him as I know about you, I says. Not much.
    She chews on her bottom lip. I don’t trust him, she says. D’you?
    He says he knows the way to Freedom Fields, I says. If I’m gonna find Lugh, I gotta trust him. Jest like I trusted you to help me git outta Hopetown. I didn’t know you but I …
    Took a leap of faith? says Maev.
    Yeah, I says, that’s it. A leap of faith. An you turned out okay.
    Yeah, well … Maev mutters. She don’t look at me when she says, I’d send a couple of Hawks with you, but I got a territory dispute with some chancers on the western road to sort out.
    I git the feelin she ain’t bein entirely truthful but I says, You don’t owe me nuthin.
    There’s jest … somethin about him, she frowns. He’s got secrets. An he’s, uh …
    Arrogant? I says.
    Oh yeah.
    Annoyin?
    Definitely.
    Slippery?
    As a snake, she says. She watches me fer a bit, then she seems to throw off whatever it is that’s botherin her. She gives me a sly little smile an says, He’s good lookin, I’ll say that much.
    Is he? I feel my cheeks go hot. I shrug, don’t look at her. Cain’t say I noticed, I says.
    He’s got nice eyes.
    Too close together.
    Nice smile.
    Too many teeth, I says. Anyways, he ain’t my type.
    She throws the pebble at me, laughin. Yer type! Don’t you kid yerself, he’s jest yer type. The trouble type, that is.
    I already got enough trouble with findin Lugh, I says. I don’t need no more.
    You sure of that? she says. You look a bit … warm whenever he’s around.
    It’s ever since that damn fire, I mutter. All that heat must of got in my blood or somethin.
    Or somethin, she says.
    I finish packin. I tighten the drawstring of my pack. Thanks fer keepin Emmi, I says. Lugh an me’ll come back fer her soon as we can. Maev?
    Uh huh?
    If … if anythin was to happen … if fer some reason I don’t come back—
    Oh no, Saba, don’t—
    If anythin happens to me, promise you’ll take care of Emmi. Raise her up proper. Please. I gotta know she’ll be okay.
    Maev looks at me a long moment. Then, All right, she says. I promise.
    Thanks, I says. She don’t like to wash. Make sure she does. I heave my pack over my shoulder. Better go load the horses, I says.
    She touches my arm, stops me as I pass. Listen, she says, if you ever git the itch to join up with a bunch of thieves an no-goods, we’d be glad to see you back here any time. You’d make a damn fine Free Hawk.

    Jack slings saddlebags over his horse’s back. On his way outta Hopetown, he managed to steal hisself a big white stallion—he calls him Ajax—that turns out to have a bad temper an a bite to go with it.
    He looks over to where Emmi’s drawin circles with a stick in the dirt. Her head droops down like a wilted wildflower. Are you really gonna leave her behind? he says.
    Of course, I says. I slip the nettlecord bridle over Hermes’ head, fix the bit