Free The Refuge Song by Francesca Haig Page B

said the man, flourishing his extra fingers.
    â€œThe soldiers would have your fingers off if they heard you say that,” said the woman.
    â€œWe’re not about to tell them,” said Piper. “And if you can keep quiet about having seen us here, I don’t see why we can’t camp together for the day.”
    The woman and Zoe still looked wary, but the blind man smiled.
    â€œThen let’s make camp. I could use a rest. I’m Leonard, by the way. And this is Eva.”
    â€œI won’t tell you our names,” said Piper. “But I won’t lie to you, at least, and give false names.”
    â€œGlad to hear it,” Leonard said. Eva sat next to him and began pulling their things from her rucksack. She had some nuggets of coal wrapped in waxed paper and still dry.
    â€œFine,” said Zoe. “But we need to cook quickly—we’re still too close to the road to risk a fire once this fog’s cleared.”
    While Piper stoked the fire and Zoe sat sharpening her knives, I joined Leonard on the log.
    â€œYou said the others didn’t move like Omegas.” I tried to keep my voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear. “What about me?”
    â€œYou neither,” he said.
    â€œBut I don’t feel like them. They’ve always been so—” I paused. “So sure. So certain about everything.”
    â€œI didn’t say you were like them. I just said you didn’t walk like other Omegas.” He shrugged. “Girl, you’re hardly here.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    He paused, and gave a laugh. “You walk like you think the earth begrudges you a space to plant your feet.”
    I thought of the moment after Kip’s death, when Zach had found me slumped on the platform at the top of the silo. The air had been so heavy. If Zach hadn’t begged me to run, to save his own skin, I doubted I’d have managed to drag myself upright and leave. All these weeks and all these miles later, I hadn’t realized that I was still hauling the weight of the sky with each step.

chapter 7
    We ate the rabbits, as well as some foraged mushrooms and greens that Eva pulled from her bag.
    â€œAre you a seer as well?” I asked her while we ate.
    She snorted. “Hardly.”
    â€œSorry,” I said. Nobody wanted to be mistaken for a seer. “I just couldn’t see your mutation.”
    Leonard’s face had turned serious.
    â€œShe has the most feared mutation of all,” he said. “I’m surprised you haven’t spotted it already.”
    There was a long pause. I scanned Eva again but could see nothing unusual. What could be more feared than being a seer, with its promise of madness?
    Leonard leaned forward, and gave a stage whisper. “Red hair.”
    Our laughter startled two blackbirds that took off screeching.
    â€œLook more closely,” Eva said. She turned her head to the side andlifted her thick braid. There, nestled into the back of her neck, was a second mouth. She opened it briefly, baring two crooked teeth.
    â€œOnly shame is that I can’t sing out of it,” she said, letting her braid drop. “Then I wouldn’t need Leonard for the harmonies, and I wouldn’t have to put up with his grumbling.”
    When the fire was extinguished and the sun risen, Leonard cleaned his hands carefully before he took up his guitar.
    â€œCan’t get rabbit grease on the strings,” he said, weaving his handkerchief between his clustered fingers.
    â€œIf you’re going to be making a racket, I’d better keep watch,” said Zoe. “If anything comes along the road, we’ll need to see them before they hear us.” She looked up at the tree above her. Piper dropped to kneel on one knee and she climbed, without speaking, onto his bent leg, balanced for a moment with a hand on his shoulder, and then jumped up to grasp the branch. She swung herself upward, feet