The previous night was spent loading the wagon, and everything of use that Harlie owned is now aboard the Gods Touched. Enough food for nearly a moon, thanks to Reed’s butchered horse. The animal provided even more, but Harlie had only so many jars to spare for storing the smoked meat. The others are filled with water; enough for eight days, maybe ten max if we really ration it. We also have a few empties and some plas that we can use to set up inverted wells, gathering water while we work our way through the stocked jars. The rest of her lumber, rope, and tools go belowdecks, along with some blankets for the evenings and a few jars of moonblitz that Harlie had been saving.

“I figure it’ll get used one way or another,” she says. “In celebration, or desperation. Guess it all depends on what we find.”

I shrug into my jacket and smack dust from my hair. Since arriving, we’ve been sleeping under the stars, and even with my scarf wrapped around my head, the desert has managed to work its way into every nook and cranny. Once my bag is packed and my goggles are pulled into place, I scramble onto the wagon.

Asher is already aboard, showing Reed how to coil up extra rope and adjust the rigging so that he can help us on the wastes. Once we get moving, we’ve agreed that he can finally be freed of his bindings; it’s not as if there will be anywhere for him to run.

Harlie is at the tiller, looking over her home one last time. “Goodbye, Harlie’s Hope,” she says. “You are where my granddaughter lost faith in me, and even if she was the last to do so, she hurt the most. I won’t miss you.”

It’s bittersweet, almost depressing, but I understand more than she knows. I also miss my pack, but not Dead River itself. Dead River was just a place we lived for a while.

“Nice tailwind again,” Harlie says. “I say we ride it and head northeast.”

“No, we have to go northwest,” I say, the Es on my back practically tingling. The Verdant lies in that direction. I can see the complete map in my mind.

“Will be a bit slower than heading northeast,” she warns, letting the breeze pass through her fingers, “but I bet we can manage if you’re sure about this.”

I glance at Asher. He nods. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Is it you that’s gods touched, or my wind wagon?” Harlie says with a wink.

I roll my eyes.

“Asher, hoist the mainsail!” Harlie announces, her eyes sparkling. “Reed, you see to the headsail. Delta, I want you at the brake, just in case it’s needed.”

We lurch to action.

And just like that, unceremoniously, we head into foreign territory, the sun beating down on our necks.

IV

Eden

Chapter Thirty-Two