For all that, she tried her best to act like all was well in the world, like they were a happy family enjoying the trip of a lifetime. But it did no good. Despite all their pretending, Letti and Timon found plenty of times to remind him and Sadina of the deepening threat if they tried to run. What had been done to Kletter could be done to anyone—that was Timon’s favorite thing to say, although Isaac often wondered if he actually meant it. Both of them were hard to read for certain.

But he and Sadina had decided to bide their time, despite the days turning into weeks, the march north and east relentless and hard. They knew their friends were still on the trail, just a few days behind. It made no sense, and was one of the most bizarre things Isaac had ever experienced. The whole situation was like a dark secret that everyone knew but refused to talk about. What game was Letti playing? Why couldn’t they just let them catch up and keep moving, safety in numbers? But it had been made crystal clear: that wasn’t an option.

Isaac crawled through the loose flap of the ancient, tattered tent that he shared with Sadina. Timon was nearby, building a fire to cook breakfast. The man seemed to never, ever sleep. He watched over his captives until they were asleep, and he was always waiting for them when they awoke in the mornings. Every once in a while, Isaac got up in the middle of the night to take a piss, only to come back and see Timon peeking out of his own tent with his ugly mug of a face. Watching. Always watching.

“All we’ve got is the last of the bacon that we hoofed in,” the Gentle Giant said, practically shouting to be heard over the roar of the river. They’d camped less than thirty meters from its west bank. “We really need to catch some bigger game today. I’m sick of rabbits and squirrels, don’t know about you. I’ve seen wild pigs out in these parts. You up for it?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Isaac replied. It was conversations like this that made their situation seem so absurd. Everything was normal, no tension to speak of, almost always. And yet that threat hung over them, like a mist you could barely sense, almost felt more than seen.

Sadina came out, bleary-eyed, quiet. Then Letti suddenly appeared from the direction of the river, holding a length of twine with at least six large trout strung up. Of course she’d been up before them. Of course she’d been fishing and managed to catch enough to feed them a huge breakfast.