A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [45]
“Low tide won’t hit until noon tomorrow,” Jason said. “Looks like we’ll have more cover up here than we will down there.”
“The woods really thin out on the far side of this ridge,” Rachel agreed. She crouched and studied the hard-packed dirt lane. “I can see traces of our boots. We should walk down the path a ways, maybe leave it a few times, then double back cross-country. In case they’re tracking us.”
“You’re right,” Jason admitted, thinking of Aster’s fate. “We should probably take precautions.”
Jason followed Rachel farther along the path, stomping his feet. She glanced back at him. “Don’t step harder than you were earlier. It might alert them that we’re making a false trail.”
“Have you done this before?”
“Whenever I escaped from juvie.”
Jason chuckled. “Right. You know, we’ll have to trade off keeping watch tonight.”
She nodded. “Weird that we haven’t seen anybody. Nobody using the road, no houses.”
“Yeah, it’s isolated. I’m going to miss my bed at the castle.”
After leaving the path several times, Rachel gingerly followed an improvised route that took them back up the slope into the woods. She selected a spot a good distance from the road, with plenty of trees and bushes to screen their presence. Despite the cover, the location still afforded a view of the lane.
Following a hasty meal, Jason offered to take the first watch. Bundling himself in cloak and blanket, cushioned by flattened weeds, he rested his back against a tree and fought to stay awake. As the light of day faded, the rhythm of Rachel’s breathing, the chirping of the insects, and the sensory deprivation of the darkness overcame his fears, and Jason sagged into a deep slumber.
Jason jerked awake. He felt damp. Predawn mist shrouded the landscape, intensifying the morning chill. As he uncurled and stood, his shins felt sore, probably from all the jogging done in boots the day before. The noise of his motion disturbed Rachel. Wiping her bleary eyes, she sat up.
“What time is it?” she asked. “What about my watch? Did you fall asleep?”
“No,” Jason lied. “You looked tired. I wanted to let you rest.”
“Then why do you have leaf prints and smudges of soil on your cheek?” Rachel asked. “Were you on guard with your face in a leaf pile?”
“I didn’t try to fall asleep,” Jason apologized. “It got dark and really boring.”
“Boring is the goal,” Rachel said, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “The opposite of boring might be somebody cutting our throats.”
Jason winced. Back home several of his classes had bored him. He’d spent tons of late nights trying to find something on television. Much of the time his life had felt planned for him, lacking real purpose, and his boredom had emphasized the problem. But Rachel was right. Boredom was now their friend.
Jason squinted into the mist. “I can’t see the lane.”
“If somebody is tracking us, the fog should work in our favor,” Rachel pointed out.
“I wonder when the mist showed up?” Jason mused.
“Hard to say,” Rachel said wryly. “We miss that kind of information when we’re both sleeping.”
“Don’t be that way. At least it worked out. Now we’ll be well rested when we throw ourselves off a cliff into the ocean.” He stretched his arms wide and groaned. “Want some breakfast? We should probably get going while we have extra cover from the mist.”
“Okay. Maybe just a bite before we start.”
Jason sorted through their food, selecting some dried meat and tough bread. When he found that the remnants of the mushrooms the loremaster had given him were beginning to smell funny and had fuzzy patches of mold, he threw them out, wondering whether he would regret the loss once their rations ran out.
Munching on bread and meat, Jason and Rachel tramped through dewy undergrowth back