Wildege
Kelim Station
The Ribbons were still visible when Kel went out to the wagon. Vyr had packed her a basket—actually, he’d packed two, but she’d laughed, and handed the second back.
“Ribbons, boy! Visalee’s practically Civilization, and beside—it’s Midsummer Market! There’ll be plenty to eat.”
The second basket…Vyr felt his stomach cramp, and, despite the state of the sky, followed her out to the wagon.
“In case, Kel,” Vyr said, pushing the basket at her, and heard the urgency in his own voice.
She tipped her head, eyes narrowed.
“Seen something?” she asked, then moved her shoulders, as if she’d just remembered there were questions that were better not to ask, and took the second basket.
“Sure. In case, hey? Never know what Chaos might get up to.”
“Thank you, Kel,” he said, with more fervor than was surely called for.
She smiled and patted his cheek, then jumped lightly into the wagon, stowed the second basket, and got herself settled on the bench.
Vyr stepped back, watching as she engaged the power, and eased the bar back.
The wagon rose smooth, sweetly balanced over the spinners, showing nary a wobble nor a list. Vyr let out the breath he’d been holding. The track to Kelim Station was rugged by design—no sense giving folks the impression you wanted visitors, was what Kel said—but Main Path was good hovering all the way to Visalee.
Kel pushed the left stick. The wagon moved. She raised a hand, without looking back, and Vyr raised his, too.
“Travel safe,” he said, though she couldn’t hear him.