“And how will you defend yourself? How will you eat?”

“I’ll hide. We’ll find a place, early tomorrow, for me to hide. Come, Katsa, you know I hide better than anyone you’ve ever known, or heard of.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Come, my wildcat. Come here.”

There was no helping her tears. For they would leave Po behind, to fend for himself and keep himself alive by hiding, though he couldn’t even walk unassisted. She knelt before him, and he took her into the crook of his uninjured arm. She cried into his shoulder like a child. Ashamed of herself, for it was only a parting, and Bitterblue had not wept like this even over a death. “Don’t be ashamed,” Po whispered. “Your sadness is dear to me. Don’t be frightened. I won’t die, Katsa. I won’t die, and we’ll meet again.”

WHEN BITTERBLUE WOKE, Katsa was packing their belongings. Bitterblue watched Katsa’s face for a moment. Then she watched Po, who stared into the fire.

“We’re leaving you, then,” she said to Po.

He looked up at the child and nodded.

“Here?”

“No, cousin. When morning comes we’ll search for a hiding place.”

Bitterblue kicked at the ground. She crossed her arms and considered Po. “What will you do in your hiding place?”

“I’ll hide,” Po said, “and recover my strength.”

“And when you’re strong again?”

“I’ll join you in Lienid, or wherever you are, and we’ll plan the death of King Leck.”

The girl considered Po for a moment longer. She nodded. “We’ll look for you, cousin.”

Katsa glanced up to see the slightest smile on Po’s face, at the child’s words. Then Bitterblue turned away to help Katsa with the medicines.

The child’s teeth chattered as she knelt beside Katsa. She had no coat, and the blanket she wore as they traveled was threadbare. The girl carried their packages to the horse, brought water to Po, and shivered.

Why had Katsa not saved the hides of the rabbits she’d killed?

She would have to do something. She would have to find Bitterblue something warmer to wear. For this child’s protection was her charge, and she must think of everything. Her care of Bitterblue must be worthy of Po’s sacrifice.

Chapter Twenty-eight

IN THE PINK of dawn they stumbled upon a small cabin with little to offer except its shell; an abandoned cabin, perhaps once the lair of some Monsean hermit. It stood in a hollow more grassy than rocky, with a tree or two and a patch of weeds that looked as if it might once have served as a garden. Broken shutters and a cold fireplace. A blanket of dust on the rough wooden floor, on the table and the bed, on the cabinet that leaned on three lopsided legs with its door hanging open crookedly.

“This is where I’ll hide,” Po said.

“This is a place to live, Po,” Katsa said. “It’s not a place to hide. It’s far too obvious; no one will pass it without going inside.”