Winter glanced at Abby, who stood up a bit straighter. “We should keep going,” she said. “Nobody’s going to starve in a couple of days, and we can gather up all the horses and use them for foraging parties. That ought to get us through.”

“Assuming there’ll be supplies waiting when we get to wherever we’re going,” Jane said. “Otherwise it could be a lot longer than two days if we have to wait for the wagon train to catch up.”

“Cyte?” Winter said.

“I’m not sure how much of a regiment we’ll have left when we get there if we push on,” Cyte said. “The way people are straggling, we might end up leaving half the soldiers behind. Is that really going to be any good to Janus?”

Winter nodded and looked to Bobby, who shrugged. “I’m with Abby. If she thinks we can make it, we can make it.”

“And you’re with Sevran, Jane?”

Jane frowned. “Hell. It’s not that we couldn’t do it. But people are already hurting themselves, and it’s only going to get worse.”

“That makes three to two,” Cyte said.

“It’s not a vote,” Sevran said. “We provide our advice to the commander, and he makes the decision. If the colonel says we’re pressing on, I’ll press on.”

“Thank you,” Winter said. “I need a minute to think about this. Go and see how we’re doing on rounding up our stragglers.”

The five of them saluted, picking their way through the mud and out into the chaos of the camp. Winter stayed where she was, looking out at the nearly invisible river. Faint lights on the other side marked a hillside village, shimmering through a curtain of rain.

Jane’s right that people are going to get hurt. There had been a few broken bones already, and that was only among the men and women who’d made it into camp. Who knows how many are still out there? Or how many have decided to wander off? There was no way the sergeants could police for desertion with straggling as bad as it was. If we press on, with no tents and no food . . .

When she closed her eyes, she could see the note Janus had sent, his neat handwriting aglow in her inner vision.

. . . do everything in your power . . .

. . . you have yet to disappoint me.

Failing Janus was unthinkable, somehow. He’s always come through for us, in the end. Now that he was relying on her, could she do less than everything in her power to help?

But . . .