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The landscape isn’t terribly different during the day, though I swear it’s just as cold and difficult to see. The sun reflects off all that white snow, blinding anyone who dares to look at it. The plants we saw last night now have color to them, and these purple blossoms poke through the ground at uneven intervals. Kearan and I wear white to blend in with our surroundings. (I had to borrow clothes from some of the other girls, since I don’t own anything in a light shade.)

There isn’t much more to see at the campfire in the daytime.

New men have taken watch. The same number as before: ten around the fire, ten more keeping watch from the trees or surrounding foliage. They stare out at their surroundings with vigilance.

There’s definitely something down there they don’t want anyone to find.

Or perhaps people they don’t want broken free?

At first, I thought it wishful thinking to hope for Alosa’s crew to still be alive if they were captured, but if the natives have underground prisons for newcomers, then maybe we have a chance.

The crew and I find a new rhythm in the days that follow. I observe the natives, listening to them speak to one another, watching them exchange shifts guarding that entrance belowground. Dimella has a watch rotation all worked out so everyone can take turns keeping lookout. Instead of maintaining a sailing ship, we have to keep the camp stocked. We send out parties to collect firewood, go hunting, and scavenge for anything we might be able to use.

Everyone takes turns teaching Roslyn how to fight with her new rapier. She has a sparring buddy for every hour of the day to keep her occupied and out of trouble. Though she doesn’t know it, her fighting partners are whoever is charged with guarding her in that moment. I’m taking no chances with her.

Enwen always lets her win.

Dimella puts her in her place.

And I make her work until her limbs drop with exhaustion.

Chapter 12

“DO YOU THINK ALLthe natives look like that?” Kearan asks, obviously referring to the sheer size of the men on watch, as we return to camp from another night’s scouting. “Or is there something dangerous in those underground tunnels?”

“We won’t know until we can get a look down there.”

“I don’t like our odds going up against them. I think we could win, but not without many losses.”

“I wasn’t planning on fighting them for access to the tunnel.”

“Then what were you thinking?”

“A diversion to draw them away.”

“How?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

A few days later, and I think we’re ready. We’ve observed that small clearing surrounding the never-dying campfire long enough to know when they swap guards or restock the place with more firewood and food.

Once I know the patterns, I feel confident striking.

I approach the crew just over a week after landing upon this frozen place. We’ve switched camp locations every evening, always keeping on the move.

I say, “Today, I want to get inside the cavern the enemy is guarding, but I’ll need help doing it.”

Before I can ask for ideas, Visylla perks up. “Perhaps now would be a good time for an explosion?”

“With what?” Philoria asks. “We didn’t bring much black powder. We’ll need it all for the guns.”

“That’s not strictly true …” Visylla kicks a barrel, and I hear a softtinkwithin.

Dimella rounds on her. “Are you saying you brought your hand bombs instead of more food?”

“Everyone else grabbed food. We needed protection, too! Besides, you can hardly grumble when the captain needs them.”

Both girls turn to me, looking for a verdict.