“I pray that was the worst of it,” said Rosvita as she lowered her hand. “We must find water and food.”

“We must decide what to do next, Sister. It will take days for this army to recover, if it ever does. There should be twice as many people. Are they all still hiding, or have they fled?”

Or died?

Rosvita glanced toward the collapsed tent in which she had sheltered. Fortunatus lifted up the heavy canvas as Ruoda and Gerwita crawled out. Gerwita, seeing the camp, burst into tears.

“We are faced with a difficult choice, Eagle. Do we flee on foot, knowing we may perish from hunger and thirst?” She gestured toward the hazy south and west. “I do not like the look of that. I would not turn my steps in that direction unless I had no other choice. But by traveling north and east we remain in Dalmiakan country, under the suzerainity of the Arethousan Empire. Yet in such circumstances, is it better to be a prisoner so we can be assured a bowl of gruel each day?”

“I don’t think there are any assurances any longer, Sister. I pray you, let me scout the camp while you get the rest of our party ready to move out. Perhaps there is a bit of water or food you can find in the wreckage.”

“Who will accompany you?”

‘Alone, I may pass unnoticed in this chaos. I’ll see what I can see. See what has become of kings and queens and noble generals.”

Rosvita nodded grimly before kissing Hanna on either cheek. “Go carefully, Eagle. We will be ready when you return.”

Hanna had lain all night on top of her staff and her bow and quiver. She had a bruise down her chest and abdomen from their pressure into her flesh, but she hadn’t dared lose her weapons to the wind. She grabbed them now as Aurea crawled out from under the wagon and helped silent Petra emerge into the dusty air. She slung bow and quiver over her back and walked into the camp with her staff held firmly in her right hand, gaze flicking this way and that, but the people she saw crawling through the debris or standing with hands to their heads seemed too stunned to think of doing her harm.

A slender hound whimpered in the dirt; its hips were bloody, and though it kept trying to rise, it could not stand on its hind legs. A man scrabbled in the ruins of a wagon that had, somehow, completely overturned.

“Help me!” he said, to no one. “Help me!”

She came over and with her help he heaved up the heavy wagon, just enough so he could look underneath.

“No! No! No!” he cried in Arethousan, and he leaped back, releasing his hold on the wagon. The abrupt increase in weight caught her off guard. She barely released the slats and jumped back herself, scraping her fingers, as the wagon’s bed crashed back onto the ground.