Silvie frowned and turned her head away from him. “Both were lieutenants in the Guard when I was twelve, but they couldn’t bear to be without me, so they both stepped into the reserves and took time guiding me through my special studies. My mother wasn’t supposed to be on duty the day she was killed. It was my fault.”

“Yours? You were only twelve.”

“You don’t understand. The other children mocked me, calling my mother and father cowards for leaving the Guard. I went home and yelled at my mother. I told her I was ashamed of her for deserting the Guard. We argued, and she agreed to take up her sword that very afternoon to prove she was no coward.”

“And the Horde killed your mother and then your father when he went after her,” Johnis said.

“I haven’t stepped into a classroom since.”

“I’m sorry. I’d hate to be one of the children who mocked you.”

She nodded. “There were a few broken noses the next week; we’ll leave it at that.”

He left her alone then, not wanting to risk losing her friendship.

The first sign of pain crept into Johnis’s bones when the sun was halfway down the western sky. He pulled up and flexed his fingers, surprised by how suddenly the stiffness had set in.

“The disease?” Darsal demanded, looking back at him.

“I don’t know.”

She lifted her arm and studied her skin. “Teeleh’s teeth! So soon?”

Silvie jerked her arm up and gazed at her flesh. The tiny cracks in the skin just beneath the hair were unmistakable. Like the beginnings of a riverbed gone dry.

Johnis’s heart thumped with dread. He whipped out his canteen, popped the cork, and splashed water on his forearm, eager to be free of the disease. He frantically rubbed his skin, as if washing off mulberry juice before it stained. The cracks faded.

He started to tip the canteen for more water.

“Ho, Johnis, slow down!” Silvie cried. “The horses will die before we do at this rate. Save the water for them.”

He looked at her face and saw the faint cracks on her cheeks as well. But she was right—they didn’t have enough water. Not bathing would make them Scabs, but not drinking would kill them and their horses. Better Horde than dead. Or was it?

“The disease affects your mind,” Darsal said. “They say it turns you into an idiot. When that happens, we’ll just wait for the Horde to catch us. We’ll probably celebrate our defection with them!”

“I’m not willing to assume they’re as foolish as we say they are,” Johnis said. “They trapped us in the canyons, didn’t they? Either way, we’d better hurry.”

“Hurry where?” Silvie asked.

“Just hurry!”