Page 58

Fenli

Before I left the clan for good, I decided to give the wolves I’d found the best chance I could.

I was going to sneak into Gaert’s hut and alter the maps. Where he’d etched out their island, I would put harsh seas instead.

The time had come to make the wolves invisible.

The cover of dark would have been nice, but I couldn’t do the deed when he was in his hut sleeping, so I went in the early morning, not long after he’d left for the kitchens to get his first meal. Soon he’d be back, and he’d be going for his maps. While it would have been ideal to have a bigger chunk of time to work with, I couldn’t afford the risk that he’d take along one of the maps I needed to alter with his day’s work. I had to act now, in this small window of time. I had to move through them as quickly as I could, changing each place where he’d made even the slightest gesture of the wolves’ island, and then I needed to run.

I took a steadying breath. After checking to make sure the path was clear, I pushed off the side of the log pile I’d been crouched beside and headed for his door, slipping inside the gloom.

I held up my lantern and turned the nob carefully. Light stretched across the clutter, and my stomach sank.

It was a mess.

There were tables and papers and spools and notebooks spread everywhere. Shelves along the walls held even more. I caught sight of a large satchel slung across a chair with rolls of parchment sticking out from under the flap. Tall cylinders in the back corner that might hold gobs more.

“Shit.”

How could I be sure I’d gotten them all when there were this many?

Resolving myself to try, I went to the table and started flipping through the drawings piled there first.

Nothing. All of them focused on the forests inland, and I moved on to the satchel.

It took me too long, but it was the same. Maybe the clan wasn’t interested in the islands? I felt a bit of hope rise up in me.

The notebooks were the hardest to look through. They kept rougher sketches, which I supposed made sense, but they were annoying as hell for me to decode. Most of them were innocent, but a few started ordering the islands. When I came across the first sketch with the wolves’ island indicated, just a loop of space against the sea, I bit my lip. Heart pounding, I pulled out my tools and set to work. First, I carefully eased his marks off the page with my scrap of wool, spreading it across the sea. Satisfied, I took a moment to steady my hand, then continued Gaert’s style lines for waves.

I was moving too slowly. I’d wasted too much time and not gotten far enough in this mess of a hut, and I knew it. Pushing myself, I grabbed the next notebook and flipped the pages as quickly as I dared.

I made my way through several more notebooks and the maps in the back corner, removing them from their leather canisters, spreading them across the floor, and sweeping over them at a furious pace. I found four more maps to alter, dripping sweat on the last one as I worked.

That was when I heard it. Footsteps approaching the door.

I had seconds. I rolled the map with one push of my hand, leaving it on the floor against the wall as I slipped under the back table, extinguishing my lamp. I hunched behind a canvas sack just as the door swung open and light poured in from outside. It lit up the wall next to me and likely some of the sack I hid behind, if not all of it.

I scarcely breathed.

Gaert came in and closed the door behind him, pitching me into darkness.Better, I thought, but he seemed to change his mind. A moment later, he kicked the door back open, and the light was flooding around me once more. I squeezed my eyes shut.

He stomped around the hut in a hurry. I could hear him shuffling through papers, lifting things up and down, and I imagined him grabbing what he needed for a day spent in the woods.

I prayed it didn’t bring him back by my corner, but I prayed in vain.

The next moment, he was at the table I hid under. The map I’d left discarded on the floor was at his feet, rolled up against the wall, and all he had to do to see it was glance down. Besides that, the leather canister I’d pulled it from was uncovered, its top resting on the table he was now surveying.

I was seconds away from being discovered.

Only then he turned and left, just as quickly as he’d come. I heard him grab a few more things before his footsteps retreated and the door swung shut.

Darkness. Relief swept over me. I would have imagined a map maker being more observant than that, but I was glad to be wrong. I thanked Toke again and again, too afraid to leave my hiding place, unable to manage anything else.

When I’d gathered myself enough, I crawled back out and returned everything to its proper place.

In the dim light (I couldn’t bring myself to use my lamp after that), I looked over the hut once more. I hoped I’d left no signs of my unwelcome visit. Aching to check all the maps more carefully, but not daring to try my luck further, I turned for the door, forcing myself to leave.

Sure that the street was empty, I closed the door behind me and made my way to the outskirts of the village. I went back to my hut and pulled my prepared pack from under my blanket. Then I rolled up the bedding and bedroll and grabbed the axe I’d stolen from the storehouse yesterday evening. After putting a note on the table, I let my eyes trail the inside of the hut one last time. They came to rest on the battle sword, still sitting where Roan had set it all those days ago, after he’d held it out to me, and I’d left instead of taking it. My thoughts spanned several moments. I made to leave it behind again, then hesitated.