Free Forest Born by Shannon Hale Page B

will, Rinna-girl. I swear it on my own life.” His briefly serious expression softened with a smile. “What do a bunch of soldiers and waiting women know about children compared to a fellow like me with twenty-two nieces and nephews?”
    “Twenty-three.”
    “Twenty-three?” he muttered as he wandered back to camp. “When did that happen? I leave the Forest for a few months and everyone goes off and has babies . . .”
    She nudged her horse. The beast made a dry wheezing sound before starting a slow walk, and Rin imagined the mare was laughing at her ineptitude. On foot it was a simple task for her sneak around, but on a horse, she felt exposed, naked, as easy to spot as a full moon.
    The floor of the wood was damp from yesterday’s light rain, and she followed hoofprints all through the night, clinging to her horse’s mane and telling herself, It’s not as bad as leaping into a well. Not as bad as that.

Chapter 8
    R in rode through the night, afraid to lose Isi’s trail, and even more afraid of dismounting and not being able to get back on the beast again. But near dawn she worried Gladden was as tired as she, so she slid onto the soft earth, still clenching the reins.
    She fumbled at the strap, sliding the saddle off and nearly toppling under its weight. Then she tied the horse’s reins to a tree and brushed its brown coat before curling up on the ground, the saddle as her pillow.
    She slept fitfully, dreaming of the horse bucking her off, of finding the girls only to be sent away, of a yellow snake that dropped from the trees and tightened its smooth body around her throat. She woke for good when a shaft of morning light cut through her eyelids.
    Another hour wasted while she tried to saddle the horse. Eventually she managed to lift the heavy thing onto Gladden’s back and strap it on, but when she clambered up, her weight made the saddle tilt to the side, the mare prancing uncomfortably. After climbing a tree and dropping onto the saddle, she’d ridden only a few minutes before the saddle leaned even farther over. The horse stopped fast, and Rin was dumped onto the ground. She scrambled for the horse’s reins, but no doubt tired of sliding saddles and girls jumping out of trees, Gladden trotted off and was gone.
    Tears of frustration made a haze of the trees, and that horrible dead ache in her chest grew so heavy she thought it would stop her heart. She was lost. If she made it back to the road, the king’s camp was sure to be gone, and she’d have to walk to the capital on her own. That could take weeks. Worse, she would not be able to find Isi and the others now.
    She leaned against a tree and let sorrow rise up to her ears like flood water. Her cheek pressed against bark, she closed her eyes, and for a moment she saw her anxious fretting as if watching it from a distance.
    “What am I doing?” she said. “Of all the pointless . . .”
    She shook herself, found the hoof tracks, and followed on foot. That path crossed with another set of multiple horse prints, and she followed the new set for a few hours until she heard voices.
    Rin sneaked forward. When a girl wanted to be alone in a family of dozens, walking around undetected was an extraordinarily useful talent. Also, if a girl wanted to climb a tree and dump a bucket of wash water over a certain brother’s head, quick and quiet movements were paramount. Rin had years of practice. So she shinnied up a tree, perched near the trunk where branches would shield her from view, and listened.
    “I think we should keep to the wood until we’re closer to Geldis.”
    “We would move faster on the road.”
    “But I’m concerned about watchers.”
    That voice was definitely Isi’s.
    Out of habit, Rin mused over the good pranks she could play, hidden as she was in the wood. She could wait until they were asleep and drag Enna and her bedroll off, so she woke up alone and disoriented—that trick was an Agget-kin standard. Dozens of times she’d seen one