Luna of Rogues

Part 42 - Of all the Stupid Plans

"How much further?" Rhys asked again.

"Why would I know, little brother? I ain't never been to Ember." That wasn't entirely accurate. We'd raided them a dozen times, but always via the main roads — roads which were now crawling with ferals. I slapped a branch to one side, only to have it spring back into my face.

Even my winter coat wasn't thick enough to keep out the chill. We'd run through the night and slept during the day, Tally and Sophie and me all sharing the hammock and the boys sharing the watch — they'd volunteered and I hadn't argued, but now they were worn out and we'd shifted back just to excuse a break.

Leo deftly pinned my branch into the fork of a tree, and he snapped it when it slipped free a second later. Half of the battle was clearing a path through the undergrowth. That was a good sign, though. Packs neglected the land directly surrounding their borders to make life harder for villains like us. The frustratingly slow pace actually meant we were close.

Rhys was at the front, beating back brambles for the rest of us. Tally had been cunning enough to walk directly behind him and she was largely unscathed. But Leo and I, the stragglers, were thoroughly scratched and pin-cushioned.

And Sophie? I'd asked her to wait with Alfie in a human farmhouse a few miles back. The elderly couple had been more than willing to take in a bruised and shell-shocked teenager and the dog (who'd quickly proved his worth guarding their chickens). Once we'd freed Ember, if we freed Ember, they would meet us there for the journey to the Silverstones.

She'd offered to come, of course, but her heart hadn't been in it, so I'd refused. She wasn't in any shape to help, and besides, I reckoned four people were more than enough for the plan which was beginning to take shape in my mind.

I stopped to pant and glanced skywards. The moon was already up, casting a silvery sheen over the snow. For those who have never been in the forest after dark, I couldn't recommend it. The horror movies didn't do justice to the utter exposure and vulnerability for newcomers, but any forester worth their salt grew to love the pockets of total darkness, the blanket of wind noise and the openness.

That was me. I'd partly argued for night travel because I loved it so much. The other reason was to stay undetected. My footsteps were all but silent. The others ... I wondered. I couldn't hear Rhys, although Leo was snapping the occasional twig and Tally was making a racket. Ah well — it took practice. I was still sure we'd hear any ferals approaching before they heard us.

"What's that?" Leo whispered suddenly. "That white stuff, up ahead?"

"It's the bone fence," Rhys replied through the link. "We're at the border, so keep your mouth shut and get low."

I felt a prickle of excitement. Here at last, after so long. We all squatted in the brambles and watched and waited for a decent twenty minutes before I said, "They haven't set patrols. Is that complacency or confidence?"

"Both, I reckon. Straight over?" my brother asked.

I eyed the bone fence again. "Yeah, we'll risk it, this once."

He shuffled to one side and Tally copied. After you. I was grinning as I took the lead spot — my spot. I strode to the bones without incidence and crossed with one foot, waiting for an exaggerated length of time before letting the other foot join it.

"Ah, trespass," I sighed, thoroughly emptying my lungs. "It's been too long."

"Two weeks," Leo muttered, "if that."

I made a face. "Fifteen days, actually."

"Well, excuse me."

I laughed and beckoned, and the others followed me across the border. We walked onwards as a little pack now, not a line. This part of the forest was so trampled by patrols that even the brambles, the ultimate survivors, had died back. The snow was a thin icy carpet, treacherous underfoot.