I found a bed of ferns and thick grass, deep and soft and fragrant. I lay down, not caring that it was midday and not wanting to be found by anyone. “Thank you,” I whispered, as I closed my eyes and eased into sleep.

“Time to get up,” Shad said what seemed to be just minutes later. His wasn’t a welcome voice. I’d been hoping for a good nap.

We traveled on gentle, slow-climbing slopes, the road moving alongside the long, narrow shadow on the land.

“Hello!” called a traveler in a blue raincoat. We chatted about the weather and turns in the road, and I told him about the mountain and the avalanche.

I asked him about himself and told him a little about me. I considered asking him why he traveled east instead of west and whether he had crossed the chasm. I wondered how I might bring up the Chasm-crosser. My mouth started to open, but it froze.

What would Bluecoat think of me if I questioned his direction? Would he be insulted, as some of the others had been? Would he think me a fanatic? Perhaps just by being friendly I could be a good example. I might dispel any of his negative impressions of chasm-crossers. A voice inside me told me this was not the time to speak. And I remembered what happened to Quon.

After a pleasant conversation, Bluecoat waved good-bye and disappeared down the road.

We pressed on day after day, Shad pushing us to get in extra miles. The stay at Cal and Helen’s was a fond memory but now seemed long ago.

We met and passed many travelers carrying loads of baggage. They didn’t carry burlap bags of stones but hauled large wagons with boxes of valuables, everything from crafts and wall hangings to appliances and entertainment systems and gas engines. Their possessions were so heavy, the carts and wagons kept sinking in the mud, toppling over, and rolling back on their toes. Some limped from more serious injuries. There was a lot of yelling and whining and some scuffles.

We passed more and more people as we came to a steeper upgrade. I was thankful to be carrying so little. A frazzled-looking woman, her back arched against the weight of her cart, sighed and said, “I can’t go farther; I can’t make it up the hill.”

“You can,” Shad said, pointing to her wagon full of artwork, jewelry boxes, shoes, and clothes. “If you just leave your burdens behind you.”

“Burdens? These aren’t burdens. They’re treasures.”

“Your treasures have great mass, and mass creates the pull of gravity and holds you down. It’s not the hill that’s the problem, it’s everything you’re trying to carry up it.”

“I can’t go on without them.”