“Fine,” she sighed. “Skirt the village. No going to the Hawks. Don’t look other travelers in the eye.”

“Yes, chief.” He said the title like a curse, just like he’d done with Pa. Fie took that as an endorsement and set off down the hill.

An ugly thought crossed her mind as she plowed over hassocks of wiry grass. They had planned on Tavin signaling Draga for them. Now they would be approaching Trikovoi unannounced and uninvited, a pair of battered, road-worn Crows. And she had a keen notion of how they’d be received.

Perhaps she ought to burn Pigeon teeth for luck before they arrived. And she’d surely need to pray the Hawks at guard had open minds.

Returning to the roads should have felt like a homecoming. Part of her did steady once her worn sandals touched ground on the roughway. But the rest of her felt the stares from Hawks as they passed league markers, the lingering glances from Sparrows in the pastures. Three Crows had made a small band. Two made an oddity.

The roads were her home. That didn’t make them less of a trap.

They staggered on through the twilight until they at last reached the flatway. A road marker stood at the crossroads, brandishing signs for every direction. Crow marks had been scratched into each, but naught told her which way led to Trikovoi, and Fie had forgotten her letters by now.

Jasimir said nothing.

Fie didn’t know if he meant to be difficult or if he truly didn’t remember. She didn’t want to find out which. Instead she just cleared her throat and said, “Which one’s Trikovoi?”

“Oh.” He leaned forward to peer at the letters, face rigid and blank, then pointed to the right. “This way.”

They carried on past another league marker. Jasimir eyed the Hawks pacing about the brazier at the top but kept his mouth shut.

Eventually he broke the silence as they trudged into a twisting forest. “We should stop.”

Fie stuffed down a protest. A distant part of her knew she couldn’t walk straight to Trikovoi, but by every dead god, she wanted to.

“Fine,” she said dully, and sat at the roadside. “Here’s as good as anywhere.”

That was a lie: she’d in fact sat on an uncomfortably angular rock that she remained on out of sheer belligerence. But Jasimir only nodded and joined her.

She fished out her bag of laceroot and counted out a few seeds, blinking away the stinging in her eyes. No sense in stopping now, with or without Tavin there—not with Trikovoi still so far off.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried I’ll get you with child,” Jasimir scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back. “And learn how bleeding works. I don’t need any more pains in the ass.”