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Ren shook her head. “As long as we move quickly, there’s not going to be an issue. We can ask for food and directions, then keep moving. Clyde is after us, remember? Not them.”

Theo still looked uncomfortable with the idea.

“You can make camp out here in the woods if you want,” Ren told him, stowing her mother’s bracelet in their shared satchel. She tucked her wand into a belt loop, just out of sight. “But I’m hungry and I’m going down there. Leave Vega if you’re that nervous.”

Cora nodded. “I want to go too.”

Theo bit his lip again. “Fine, but if they’re out here harvesting the organs of lost pioneers, I’m going to say I told you so.”

“You won’t be able to,” Ren pointed out with a smirk. “No lungs to speak with.”

And with the cheery thought of evisceration on their minds, they started down the hill.

35

A mountain hound spotted them first. He came barking and circling, sniffing the air before barking again. He was oak brown with a running pattern of white spots. Cora knelt down and set out one hand. The gesture lured the massive dog a bit closer. Ren was about to tell her to back up before she lost a finger, when the creature flopped at her feet, tongue lolling.

“There’s a good boy,” Cora said, scratching his stomach.

Two figures were crossing the pasture. A few other heads poked out of the smaller cabins. Ren couldn’t tell if they were relatives or hired hands that worked the farm. The approaching pair were kind looking. Older than Ren’s mother by a few years, but in even better shape. Lean and muscular, carved by the demanding work of running a farm. Time was starting to bend the man’s shoulders but couldn’t dim an easy smile. He waved at them when they were still a ways off. The woman was more reserved, studying each of them in turn. She had the same olive skin tone as Cora—though more burnished, as if she’d spent all morning working in the sun’s light. She wore threadbare gloves that still had little clovers clinging to them from her gardening. A sharp whistle from her had the dog darting back to their side. Ren didn’t realize they were husband and wife until she saw the comfortable way their shoulders pressed together as they walked.

“Ho there!” the man said. “Come and welcome. I’m Holt. This is my wife, Della. What brings you around our side of the mountain?”

Cora surprised Ren by taking the lead.

“We got lost,” she said. “We’re from Kathor. My parents have a farm down that way. North of the city. We raise pigs, mostly. Damn, I miss the scent of a proper farm.”

Holt smiled at the compliment. “Nothing like it in the world.”

“You came from where?” Della asked. “Up from the foothills?”

Cora turned and pointed. “From the pass, believe it or not. We were way off course.”

Holt whistled. “You’re kidding. No one takes the pass. No wonder you look ragged as bones. Come on. Let’s get your bags set down on the porch. Are you hoping to stay the night?”

The three of them exchanged glances. They needed to sleep somewhere, but they’d agreed not to delay. For their sake and the sake of anyone who called this place home. Ren already had three deaths weighing on her shoulders. She didn’t need any more ghosts trailing them home. There was no reason to endanger these people’s lives by luring Clyde onto the property.

“We’re just hoping for a meal,” Cora answered. “If you can spare it. And a shove back in the direction of the city, too. We’re not sure how far we are.”

“From Kathor? About four days,” Della answered. She gestured to a hillside of green-stemmed flowers that were on the verge of blooming. “We sell mirror flowers at the Kathorian markets every other year. Beautiful things. One of the few crops that actually enjoy the mountain cold.”

Theo eyed the hills. “Mirror flowers? I’d love to see a full field of them.”

“The whole field won’t bloom,” Cora replied, looking to the two farmers for confirmation. Della gave her an approving nod. “They fight for sustenance. Wrapping their stems around one another and choking the weaker plants. Only about a hundred of them will make it, right?”

“Good eye,” Della replied with a smile. “We’ve had about that many every year.”

Holt clapped his hands together excitedly. “Come on. Set your things down over there. We’ll tour you around a little. Della, let’s set out a few more plates for dinner.”

Ren hadn’t spoken. She’d been too busy looking around the rest of the farm, made nervous by Theo’s suggestion that something illegal could be happening. The field hands she saw looked completely at ease, though. One man had his feet kicked up and was reading a book on his porch. Another was washing a shirt to hang on a sagging clothesline. Ren even saw a little girl, thin as a rail, drawing in the dirt with a stick behind one of the cabins. That sight had Ren feeling nervous for an entirely different reason. She couldn’t bear the thought of endangering a child.

“… came out to take over operations of the farm from my father. I was a historian. Taught primary school in Kathor for a bit. Way back before any of you were so much as a twinkle in your parents’ eyes. Della didn’t want to come all the way out here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Of course not.” She offered him a slanted smile. It was clear they’d told this story a time or two. “I liked the city. The busy streets and the taverns, all of it. I was young and it was fun. I loved you, dear, but I thought you were dragging me out to a goat track in the middle of nowhere.”

As they turned the corner, the vista opened up. There was a sprawling valley, cut through by rivers and creeks and forests. Ren knew families like the Broods spent a lot of money for views just like this one. She was trying to discern the distant landmarks as Holt continued their story.

“We arrived at night,” he said. “All the stars were out. Well, you three were up in the pass, so you already know. Out here it’s different. None of man’s tinkering gets in the way. You can see other worlds up in these mountains. When Della saw that—and saw this view the next morning—I knew she’d never want to go back.”