I think a part of me was disappointed that Sam didn't want to challenge my decision to go south. In my head I had built towering arguments demonstrating that the success of my mission depended on going south rather than any other random direction. So when Sam accepted my decision without comment, it left me both disappointed and happy.
I was disappointed that Sam had not chosen to challenge my decision, but at the same time, I appreciated that I had been given enough autonomy to decide my own fate in the world.
"South, then."
I nodded.
"And this guy. He just walked up to you?"
I nodded.
Sam sighed heavily, dragging a long-fingered hand through a head of close-cropped hair. "I'll go where you go, kid."
"Thank you," I said to a hand covering a face. The other hand waved me away.
At the end of it all, Sam managed to bargain away everythin in the sack except the strange metal sphere, of which there were eight more. One was tossed my way as we headed back to the hotel. "Sit tight, kid. I'm going to grab our gear."
Alfather waited atop his mount, next to a wagon hooked up to two oxen. They were clearly not creatures of this pale place, with their rough fur and large brown eyes. Their hooves were split into two sharp claws that bored into the cracked pavement. Our newest companion had exchanged his mask for a simple black eyepatch and added a wide-brimmed hat, just as worn as his cloak.
Alfather's horse was another creature alien to this domain. I use the term 'horse' loosely, for it while it might be considered a genetic brother to the horses I was used to, it was different enough to validate using another term entirely. However when I asked, Alfather had raised an eyebrow and remarked that Looms was just as strange a sight to him and what right did we have to define what a horse was anyway?
Rather than a coat of fur, the coat was formed from sleek black feathers. Baleful crow eyes glared at me and the thing stomped, feathers fluffling out briefly before settling back into place.
"Settle, Roadkill." Alfather patted his.... horse fondly.
"Roadkill?"
He chuckled slightly. "Yeah. I was in one of those moods where stupid shit seemed like the funniest thing ever. It's not a name I'm proud of, but she won't answer to anything else now."
"No, I meant what is roadkill? I've never heard the term."
He paused, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "It's this creature back where I came from. It races up and down old roads like this, attachking anything that doesn't move. It kills on the road, so roadkill."
It sounded off, but plausible. I stared at Roadkill, who shook her head and snorted.
"Here, go on and give her a snack." Alfather leaned over and pulled a couple of carrots that were outrageously bright in this washed-out land. "Just hold your hand out flat like this-"
"I appreciate the help," I took the carrots from him, bristling at the patronizing tone. "But I've been around horses my whole life. They weren't feathered, but unless she's got a beak hidden in her mouth, I think I can manage to feed her."
Roadkill stretched her neck out and nosed at my hand. The feathers felt a little odd, but sure enough there were normal equine teeth that plucked the carrots from me.
"Your whole life, hm? So that's what, 15 years of raising horses? 17?"
"Kid." I grit my teeth on what I had been about to say (which to be perfectly honest I'm still not sure what that would have been. I doubt it would have been as impressively scathing as I might have wished) and turned to face Sam.
The Trader was leading two horses up, Looms and a pale grey horse with blank white eyes. Behind them was a wide man pulling a cart laden with our luggage. I say 'our' when I should say 'mine' since Sam carried nearly everything in Looms' saddle bags. Meanwhile I was the one who had burdened us with large trunks full of books that I had not even read since the journey started. Works which seemed to be of utmost importance were quickly forgotten when running for one's life. I must remember to tell Sam to trade them for supplies at the next outpost.
"Bought you a horse. Wagon loaded up?" Sam stared at the wagon, empty but for a stack of burlap bags, and raised an eyebrow.
"Yes." The man behind Sam spoke up. "Rudy, at your service. Alfather explained what was up. You can tag along until we reach the farmstead. After that, you're on your own." He didn't seem to begrudge the additional company, and even helped Sam load the luggage on the wagon.
I mounted my horse, who sidestepped nervously with its ears laid back nearly flat. If the eyes weren't blank, I would have bet they were rolling.
"I thought you said you grew up around horses." Alfather smirked.
"I did." I could feel my face pull into the familiar tight grimace whenver someone made fun of my horsemanship. "Doesn't mean the stupid beasts like me." Once upon a time, they hadn't minded. While I wasn't the best hand on my father's ranch, I still pulled my weight. Recently though, I had been sentenced to the 'book work.'
I could feel the horse's hindquarters bunch in preparation to start what was sure to be an unholy round of bucking. I jerked the reins to the right, forcing it to turn and shift its weight away from the impending jump. "Did you have to get the ornery one?"
"She was calm enough until you jumped on." A faint smile tugged at the corner of Sam's mouth. "Maybe you smell bad. Have you bathed recently?"
"Fifty's a right doll, ain't you girl?" The wagoneer patted the mare on the nose before jumping up onto the wagon.
"The last time I heard that, the damn creature busted three of my toes." Fifty tried to rear again but I managed to cut her off with the same trick. I could feel a throbbing build behind my eyes. "Let's just get going already. Hopefully when she does throw me, it'll be over the blasted border and we can all move on with our lives." My cynical grumblings prompted a short, sharp laugh from Sam.
A click of his tongue, a flick of the reins, and the oxen lurched forward. The unexpected weight of the wagon brought them to a quick halt and their hooves dug furrows into the pavement as they strained to move.
Alfather pulled up alongside of me and muttered under his breath. "You're not smuggling bricks, are you? Because I hate to break it to you, but there are bricks everywhere. They're not exactly a rare commodity."
"I'm debating on getting down there and pushing." As I spoke, the wagon overcame inertia and creaked into motion. We headed south down the heavily cracked road.
Once we left the city, the landscape immediately dropped into a flat plane. Above us, the cold white sun (face) stared impassively down on fields of grey grass. A brisk breeze ruffled my hair, sending a shiver down my spine.
This would be my first winter away from Jack Frost. Would he know we were gone? Would he come looking for us, like a shepherd for wayward sheep? Would his flock of laughing children, with their empty eyes and predator teeth, circle our camp? Would we wake up with one member missing, their sleeping bag frozen into a solid block of ice?
Thoughts like this occupied my mind as we traveled down that road for what seemed like an eternity. Then, from one eyeblink to the next, the sun was half-way below the horizon. The sky fell darker and darker, pale dots of the stars blinking into existence.
"How far are we from the border?" I asked, hating myself for the quaver in my voice.
"Come on, kid." Sam didn't wait for the answer, pulling Looms ahead of the small group. "Let's make a run for it."
I urged Fifty into a gallop, leaning low over her shoulder and narrowing my eyes against the suddenly biting wind. Beside me Sam kept pace on Looms. What should have been twin thunder of hoof beats was swallowed in the wide expanse of the plains.
I glanced back to see Alfather and the wagoneer already specks in the distance. The fields, though... Pale white flowers began to bloom in fields of grey. White flowers with a single slash for a mouth, and stems of black.
"The Bone Men!" I shouted to Sam.
"Shut the fuck up and ride!" We dug our heels in and were rewarded with another burst of speed. After minutes of riding, the border was nowhere in sight.
"How will we even know?"
Sam's hat was flapping on her back, held on by a piece of braided leather. I glanced back again. There were no longer fields of grass. There were only Bone Men, their black bodies and stern faces eating the horizon. The nearest of them would catch us in mere minutes.
Fifty stumbled. The closest Bone Man reached out a long, slim hand, grazing the slender pony's tail.
A crack of thunder and a ragged hole appeared in the Bone Man's mask, followed immediately by spider-web cracks. The mask shattered, and pieces began to fall. It slowed, raising a hand to trace one of the cracks.
Five more shots, and five more masks came apart. Before they were lost in the flood of Bone Men, I saw hints of raw flesh and teeth, a wide eye with no eyelid.
"Kid!"
I looked at Sam, who was reloading. A bullet fell to the ground and Sam cursed vicously. "Keep your eyes forward. Don't look back for nothing!"
I faced forward once more. In the distance, the sky was purple...
It was purple. Not grey. Not black. "Fifty, go!" I shouted. Beneath me, the mare shook, harsh breaths throwing foam in my face. I heard Sam call out.
The sun was a white sliver that seemed to slip away with each breath. I could see the grass now; drought-yellow.
Like a line in the sand, color entered my world once more. Sam drew even with me and I felt a vice ease around my heart. We slowed to a trot, then a walk, wheeling around to meet with the others.
The Bone Men stood at the border. The six that Sam had shot bordered our escape route, their masks still cracking and falling. Sam cursed, a long stream of obscenities ending in a thick wad of spit in their direction.
They waited with us for the others to catch up. Not a one reacted to the wagon rattling past, instead staring at us. At me.
We traveled the rest of the way in silence. The wagoneer is actually a farmer, who brings his harvest in each morning and sells it to the colorless people. We are in the loft of his barn, sleeping on mounds of hay.
Sam is grumbling at me, saying the light is keeping them awake. I don't think it is the light.
I think it is a brown, lidless eye of a woman taken from her family in the middle of the day to become one in a sea of Bone Men, staring at us while pale hands clench into fists.
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