So they weren’t completely without his Grace; but he was completely without his reason, to make such a comment while Bitterblue sat directly behind him, quiet, intent, and missing nothing of what was said. Careful, she thought to him. Bitterblue.

“I’ll tie you both to the horse,” she said aloud, “and then each of you can choose whether or not to rest.”

Rest, she thought to him, as she wound a rope around his legs. You’re no good to us if you bleed to death.

“I’ll not bleed to death,” he said aloud, and Katsa avoided Bitterblue’s eyes, determining not to talk to Po inside her mind again until his reason had returned.

THEY CONTINUED south slowly. Katsa tripped and stumbled over rocks, and over the roots of stubborn mountain trees that clung to cracks in the earth. As the night wore on, her stumbling increased, and it occurred to her that she was tired. She sent her mind back along the past few nights, and counted. It was her second night without sleep, and the night before that they’d slept only a few hours. She would have to sleep, then, sometime soon; but for now she wouldn’t think of it. There was no use considering the impossible.

Several hours before dawn she began to think of the fish she had caught earlier, the fish scaled and gutted, and wrapped and bound with the bags to the horse. Once light came they wouldn’t be able to risk even the smallest fire. They’d eaten very little that day, and they had very little food for the next. If they stopped now for just a few minutes, she could cook the fish. She wouldn’t have to think of food again, until the next nightfall.

But even this was risky, for the light of a fire could attract attention in this darkness.

Po whispered her name then, and she stopped the horse and walked back to him.

“There’s a cave,” he whispered, “a few steps to the southeast.” His hand swayed in the air and then rested on her shoulder. “Stay here beside me. I’ll lead us there.”

He directed her footsteps over stones and around boulders. If she’d been less tired, Katsa would have taken a moment to appreciate the clarity with which his Grace showed him the landscape. But now they were at the entrance to Po’s cave, and there was too much else to consume her mind. She must wake Bitterblue, untie her, and help her down. She must get Po from the horse and onto the ground. She must find wood to build a fire, then get the fish cooking. She must dress Po’s shoulder again, because it still bled freely no matter how tightly she bound it.

“Sleep while the fish cooks,” he said, as she wound clean strips of cloth around his arm and chest to stanch the flow of blood. “Katsa. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if we need you.”

“You’re the one who needs sleep,” she said.