“Fuck.” He pushes off the wall, takes two steps toward us, then stops. “Be glad if you don’t see me again, girl, though for me… Gods above, it’s killing me to see you go.”
“Taj—”
“Come on,” Finnen mutters and drags me out into the rain, “and now be quiet. His men could be anywhere.”
He’s right. He’s right about everything—about needing to go, needing to be quiet and fast and stealthy, and Taj is right and meeting him again would be going back to the gallows.
And yet I can’t help but weep as we stumble away in the wet night, letting my tears mingle with the rain.
Distraught, I let Finnen lead me once more. The first time he crashes to the ground as we walk upslope to get out of the gully, I don’t think much of it. The rocky ground is wet and slippery and even the most sure-footed man can stumble.
He gets up with a grumbling curse, sweeping his long hair out of his face, and reaches for my hand again.
I glance down, trying to see the shelter we left behind, but it’s hidden by the lip of the slope we just climbed.
The second time, it happens once we’ve cleared the gully and are on flat ground. Granted, there are obstacles here, too, even for a person with sight—rocks and hollows and small thorny shrubs and rabbit burrows. I keep stumbling, so why shouldn’t he? He goes down so suddenly I barely catch myself from going down with him, even though he’s released my hand as he fell.
“Finn?”
“Dammit.” He pushes up on all fours and slowly finds his feet once more. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
“Come on.”
So on we go, and I’m starting to wonder about our direction. The hill is now at our backs but I think I see the dark outlines of jagged mountains up ahead and I’m not sure that’s our way south. Finnen had said something about going south, right?
This third time, he crashes down on his face, yanking me down with him.
And this time, though I manage to keep myself from smashing my nose into the ground, he stays still and doesn’t try to get up.
Terrified he’s cracked a bone or twisted an ankle at best, I crawl on my knees to lift his head out of the mud. “Finn?”
“I’m fine,” he wheezes, and the sound isn’t reassuring.
“It’s the third time you’ve fallen. What’s going on?”
“I’m fucking blind, Ari!”
His snapping doesn’t affect me because I’m already too far gone into fear and worry and because I can almost hear the answering fear in his voice.
“I know that. But other times… other times you seem to find your way.”
“The rain is too loud. Hides other sounds. Disorients me.”
“You’re exhausted. And I shouldn’t have expected you to lead us. You shouldn’t bear such a responsibility.”
He’s struggling to get up but only manages as far as his knees. “I’m fine. We need to keep going.”
“Stop… just stop.” I put my hands on his chest. “You’ll hurt yourself worse.”
“I don’t care. If we stay, the soldiers will get us.”
“We don’t even know where we’re going. We should sit and think.”
“Think? Now?” he snarls. “Run, that’s what we must do. It’s why it’s called being on the run.”
“You’re upset. You didn’t want to leave Taj behind, either.”