Morning came grey and cold. I woke in the barn, but I hadn't really slept. Kept thinking about the deadline. Today was the third day.
The village was quiet. Too quiet. People were packed – carts loaded, bags tied, children dressed in their warmest clothes. But everyone stayed inside. Waiting. No smoke from chimneys. No chickens in the yard. Marta had let them loose the night before. "They'll find their own food," she said. I didn't believe her, but I didn't argue.
I found Elias at his workshop. He was already dressed, a dark cloak over his shoulders. His face was pale. He was sitting on a stool, tying his boots.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Not yet. We need to make them think we're not leaving."
He nodded. "Fake trail."
---
We walked east from Oakhaven. Away from the valley. Away from where we were really going.
The sun wasn't up yet. The air was cold. My breath fogged. Elias carried a heavy branch, thick as my arm. He dragged it behind him. Deep grooves in the dirt. Footprints everywhere. We stomped in circles, back and forth, making the ground look trampled.
"This feels wrong," Elias said. "What if they follow the fake trail?"
"Then they go east. We go west."
"But what if they're smarter than that?"
I stopped. Looked at him. "They're not. They're soldiers. They follow orders. They don't think."
He didn't argue.
I scattered torn cloth – ripped from an old shirt – and dropped a few copper coins. Then a piece of rope. Then a broken shoe. Then a child's doll that Marta had given me. I felt bad leaving it, but it made the trail look real.
"Looks like a group ran this way," Elias said.
"Add more."
We circled back through the forest. Careful. Stepping only on rocks and hard roots. No footprints. The fake trail went east. The real trail went west, toward the valley.
It took two hours. My back hurt. Elias was sweating. His leg was bothering him – the old wound. He limped.
"We need to rest," he said.
"We can't. Not yet."
He didn't complain. Just kept walking.
---
Around noon, the messenger returned. Two soldiers with him. Grey cloaks. Swords on their belts. Their horses were fresh – not the tired one from before.
I met them at the well. Alone. My hands were shaking, but I kept them in my pockets.
"Payment," the messenger said.
I handed over a leather pouch. Two hundred gold coins. Heavy. He opened it, counted. Slow. One by one. His fingers were dirty.
I watched the soldiers. They were looking around. At the empty houses. The silent well. The closed doors.
"Where is everyone?" one of them asked.
"Inside. Scared of soldiers."
The messenger finished counting. "Seems right." He tied the pouch to his belt. "The labor draft isn't canceled. We'll be back for the young men."
"I understand."
He stared at me for a moment. His eyes were cold. "You seem calm."
"I'm not. I'm just tired."
He grunted. Then he turned and rode off. The soldiers followed. Their horses kicked up dust.
I waited until their hoofbeats faded. Then I walked back to the barn. My legs felt weak. I sat on the straw for a minute. Breathed.
Then I got up.
---
I didn't move everyone at once. Too risky.
First group: Marta, Rik's family, and the children. They left at noon. A cart loaded with blankets, food, tools. Rik walked beside it, his axe in his hand.
"Go slow," I told him. "Stop if you see anyone."
"We will."
They left through the back path. The one we'd hidden with leaves and branches. I watched them go. Marta looked back once. I nodded. She turned away.
Second group: the elderly and sick. Elara, the old woman who had collapsed. Two other old men. A woman with a bad leg. They left at sunset. Elias led them. A cart with soft blankets. Slow. Careful.
"Don't rush," Elias said. "We'll catch up."
"I know."
"Ash." He put a hand on my shoulder. "You're doing good."
I didn't feel good. But I nodded.
Third group: me, Lora, her grandmother, and a few others. We left after dark.
---
Before each group left, Elias and I swept the road. Branches tied to a rope. We dragged them over the tracks. Erased footprints. Covered the path with leaves and dirt.
It took time. My arms ached. The rope burned my hands. We did it three times. Once after the first group. Once after the second. Once after the third.
After the second group, Elias sat down on a rock. His leg was bleeding through his pants.
"You should have said something," I said.
"It's fine."
"It's not fine."
I knelt and put my hand on his leg. Pushed a little mana into the wound. Not enough to heal it, just enough to stop the bleeding.
"Thanks," he said.
"Don't thank me. Just keep walking."
---
The third group left after the moon rose. The sky was clear. Stars everywhere. Cold. My breath fogged.
Lora's grandmother was wrapped in blankets on the cart. She was scared, but quiet.
"This is bumpy," she said.
"I know," Lora said. "We'll be there soon."
"Bumpy and cold."
"I'll get you another blanket."
"No, no. I'm just complaining. Old habit."
Lora looked at me. She was tired, but she smiled.
I walked at the front. No torch – too bright. Only moonlight. The path was hard to see. Twice I tripped on roots. Once I fell into a hole. Lora helped me up.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
We walked slow. The cart creaked. Someone coughed. A baby cried. Lora's grandmother hummed an old song. Quiet. Almost a whisper.
"What's that song?" I asked.
"Old river song. My mother taught me."
"Keep humming."
She did. The tune was soft, sad. It made the dark feel less empty.
---
By midnight, we caught up to the first group. They were waiting in a hollow, hidden by trees. A small fire – just for light, not heat. People huddled together.
I counted everyone. Twice.
"All here," I said.
Marta came to me. Her face was tired, but her eyes were bright.
"Ash, we made it."
"Not yet. We still have a day's walk."
"But we're out. Away from Oakhaven."
I nodded. "Rest now. We move at dawn."
She hugged me. Quick. Fierce. Then she went back to her cart.
---
I sat apart from the others. Watching the tree line. The moon was high. The forest was quiet. An owl called somewhere. Another answered.
Lora came to me. She had a piece of bread.
"Eat," she said.
"I can't."
"Pretend."
I took the bread. Held it. Didn't eat. She sat beside me.
"We made it," she whispered.
"Not yet. But we're closer."
She leaned on my shoulder. Her head was heavy. Warm. I could smell her hair – river water and something sweet.
"Thank you, Ash."
"For what?"
"For getting us out."
I didn't answer. Just watched the dark.
The others slept. The fire died. The moon moved across the sky.
I thought about Oakhaven. The barn. The well. The river where I first saw Lora. Gone now. Maybe forever.
But we were alive. All of us.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, we walk again.