I woke before the others. The hollow was cold. The fire had died hours ago. People were huddled together, covered in blankets. A child coughed. Someone snored. The sky was grey, just beginning to lighten.
I stood up. My legs were stiff. My back hurt from sleeping on the ground. I walked the perimeter of the camp, checking the tree line. Nothing moved. Just shadows and wind. A few birds started singing. Far away, a wolf howled.
Elias was already awake. Sitting on a log, rubbing his bad leg. His face was tight with pain.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning." He winced. "Old wound. The cold makes it worse."
"We'll rest today. Once we reach the valley."
"If we reach it."
"We will."
I helped him stand. He leaned on me for a moment, then steadied himself.
"Go wake the others," he said. "We need to move."
---
I woke everyone. Quiet. No shouting. No fire for breakfast – too risky. The soldiers might still be looking, though I doubted they'd come this far. But I wasn't taking chances.
We ate cold bread and dried meat. Lora's grandmother complained about the cold, about the bread being hard, about the ground being lumpy. But she ate. She drank water from a skin. She wrapped herself tighter in her blanket.
"How much farther?" Marta asked. Her face was pale. Dark circles under her eyes.
"Half a day. Maybe less."
She nodded. Didn't smile. She went back to her cart.
We packed. Rik tightened the ropes on his family's cart. Elias checked the wheels on the second cart. Paul lifted a sleeping child onto a cart and covered her with a blanket. Tomas sharpened a stick into a walking staff for Elara.
The sun was up. Pale, weak. The air was cold.
We left.
---
The walk was hard. The path was narrow, overgrown with bushes and low branches. I walked at the front, pushing branches aside, stepping over roots. My boots were wet from dew. The hem of my cloak was soaked.
Twice I had to stop and clear fallen trees. Small ones, but heavy. Rik helped me drag them off the path. The bark scraped my hands. Sweat dripped down my back.
The cart broke again. A wheel cracked on a rock. The wood split. Elias and I lifted the cart while Tomas hammered a new piece of wood into place. It took an hour. People waited in silence. No one complained. The children played with stones. The old ones sat on logs.
A child got tired. A little boy, maybe five years old. He sat down on the path and wouldn't move. His mother tried to carry him, but she was too weak. She had been carrying her baby all day.
I knelt down. "I'll carry you."
He looked at me. His eyes were red. His nose was running.
"Up you go."
I lifted him onto my back. He was light, but solid. He put his arms around my neck and fell asleep almost immediately. His breath was warm on my shoulder.
His mother smiled. "Thank you," she whispered.
I nodded. We kept walking.
---
The boy's name was Eli. I learned that when he woke up an hour later and asked for water. I gave him my skin. He drank, then fell back asleep.
Lora walked beside me for a while. She carried a bag of mushrooms.
"You're good with him," she said.
"He's light."
"That's not what I meant."
I didn't answer. The path was steep. I focused on not tripping.
"Ash," she said. "You saved all of us."
"I just walked."
"You planned. You paid. You built shelters. You carried a child."
I shifted Eli to my other shoulder. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No," she said. "They wouldn't."
She walked ahead. I watched her go.
---
By late afternoon, the hills opened up. The valley was there. Green grass, greener than I remembered. The stream was running, clear and cold. The grove of trees stood near the far wall, their leaves still green.
The shelters we had built – still standing, still rough, but there. The storage pit was covered with logs and dirt, undisturbed. A bird flew out of one of the lean‑tos.
Marta stopped walking. She stared at the valley. Her hands went to her mouth.
"We made it," she whispered.
Then she started crying.
Rik laughed. A loud, relieved laugh. He hugged his father. Paul dropped the cart handle and sat down on the grass, breathing hard. Elara crossed herself and mumbled a prayer.
The boy on my back woke up. He looked around, blinked.
"Are we there?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "We're there."
He wiggled to be put down. I let him. He ran to his mother.
Lora came to me. She was carrying her grandmother's bag.
"We're here," she said.
"Yeah."
She touched my hand. Her fingers were cold. Then she went to find her grandmother.
---
We unloaded the carts. Food into the storage pit. Blankets into the shelters. Tools by the fire pit. The work took an hour, but no one complained. Everyone was tired, but everyone was smiling.
Marta found a bag of dried beans. She added them to the soup pot. Elias built up the fire. The flames licked the blackened pot. The smell of cooking filled the valley.
People gathered around the fire. Holding cups. Eating slowly. Some cried. Some laughed. A few just stared at the flames.
Lora's grandmother was sitting on a blanket near one of the lean‑tos. Lora was beside her, rubbing her shoulders.
"How is she?" I asked.
"Cold. Tired. But she's smiling."
The old woman looked at me. Her eyes were sharp despite her age.
"You did good, boy."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just keep us alive."
I nodded.
---
After the meal, Elias sat with me by the fire. His leg was stretched out, propped on a log. He had a cup of soup in his hands.
"We made it," he said.
"Not yet. But we're closer."
He looked at me. "You're always saying that."
"Because it's true."
He didn't argue. He just watched the flames. Sparks floated up. The stars were coming out.
I looked toward the hills. The shaft valley was out there. A few hours' walk. The hole was waiting. The crystals. The golem. The false hero.
But not today.
---
The boy, Eli, came to me. He was holding a small wooden bird – carved, simple. His mother must have made it.
"Here," he said. "For you."
I took it. "Thank you."
"You carried me."
"Yes."
He ran back to his mother.
I looked at the bird. It was rough, uneven. The wings were different sizes. But it was a bird.
I put it in my pocket.
---
Lora found me at the edge of the camp. I was standing alone, looking at the dark hills. The firelight flickered behind me.
"You're thinking about the hole," she said.
"Yes."
She stood beside me. Took my hand. Her palm was warm.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Rest today."
"I don't rest."
"You should."
I didn't answer.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. We stood there for a long time. The camp was quiet. The fire crackled. Someone was singing – an old song, soft and slow. It might have been Lora's grandmother.
"We're safe here," she whispered.
"For now."
"That's enough."
I didn't believe her. But I didn't say anything.
The stars came out. The hills turned black. The valley was dark except for the firelight. The stream gurgled. An owl called.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I would go to the shaft.
But tonight, I stayed.