We fall into a rhythm by the second day, taking turns at the tiller and on watch at night. Reed is the only one who gets to sleep straight through the evenings. Though he’s held us on course during the day, none of us trust him enough to let him man the tiller with only the moon for company.

By the evening of our third day, Harlie estimates that we’ve traveled as far as her pack ever explored. It feels like we are in truly uncharted territory, but the map Asher and I share means someone has been through this stretch of wastes before.

The ground is hard-packed and mostly level now, the wind having smoothed the rock over with dirt and dust. When I’m not taking a turn at the tiller, I spend most of my time at the bow, binos to my face, scanning the horizon.

There is nothing. Just endless earth that stretches before us like a blanket.

I keep waiting to see green in the distance, for trees or scrub to pop up, and the anticipation is ruining me. I’m jittery and jumpy and can barely sleep at night.

During the fifth day of continuous travel, Harlie asks, “Are you still sure, Gods Touched?”

She’s started to call me this, joking that my confidence in our destination must mean that I’m gods touched, not the wind wagon. Asher smiles every time I bristle at the nickname, and it makes me want to kick something.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “We’re on course.”

“How much longer, then?”

The trouble is, I don’t know. I’ve checked our heading with my lodestone almost daily. Reed has checked with his, too. We are heading in the right direction.

“Soon,” I tell the woman.

“Good, because I’m tired of peeing in a jar,” she grouses. “The men have it so easy.”

I don’t mention that my moon bleeding started the day we set sail, and I’m sick of cramps and having to sacrifice spare clothes for rags. She’s seen me tearing strips and can probably guess. And besides, she just wants to vent. Complaining is sometimes the best remedy for crossness.

“Even once we stop, you’ll still be peeing in a jar,” Reed points out. He glances at the inverted wells we’ve set up on the deck using some of Harlie’s spare jars and plas. “But if you want to turn around, you should do it this very second. Your water rations will barely get you back to Harlie’s Hope as it is, and those wells aren’t producing at the rate you’re drinking.”