Free The Reader by Traci Chee Page A

stowed the hammock in her pack, and followed her down from the tree without a word.
    She quickly grew irritated with his helplessness. He just stood there, waiting for her to do something. She had to press a tin cup into his hands just to get him to drink.
    As he slowly chewed his breakfast, she sat opposite from him with her arms crossed over her chest, watching. The skin around his throat was pinkish white where the burns had healed unevenly.
    His right arm had been burned too, with fifteen parallel marks the length of her palm and the thickness of a finger, fromthe oldest scars on his shoulder to the newest past his elbow, like the rungs on a ladder.
    She didn’t question him about them, but she did ask about the symbol, tracing it in the dirt for him: the circle, four lines.
    He shook his head.
    â€œDidn’t think so.” She dusted off her hands and pointed west. “There’s a town a day’s walk that way. Just keep going and you’ll make it. Someone’ll get you home.”
    Dutifully, the boy turned in the direction she was pointing, then turned around. His eyes were questions.
    â€œI’m going to follow them.” She pointed to theon the ground. “Maybe I’ll get some answers out of this yet.”
    The boy nodded as if he understood, so she put half her provisions into his hands—more than he would need for just one day. Then she shouldered her pack and began walking back the way they’d come. She hadn’t gone ten paces before she heard his faint footsteps behind her. She turned, and the boy walked up to her.
    â€œWhat?”
    He cocked his head and blinked.
    She scowled at him. “You’re free now. Go home.”
    The corners of his mouth twitched. Maybe he almost smiled.
    â€œGet moving.” Sefia paused. “Before the rain comes.”
    When he didn’t respond, she muttered a curse under her breath and began walking again. But the boy continued to shadow her, clutching a few strips of jerky and saying nothing.
    Every so often, Sefia turned to see if he was still there. He always was.
    â€œGo away,” she ordered once. “What are you doing?”
    The boy merely looked at her and put a narrow piece of meat in his mouth. He gnawed and stared. When she started off again, he followed, chewing slowly.
    After an hour, Sefia took the meat out of his hands and stuffed it back into her pack. She gave him a drink of water and waited as he sipped. They had stopped beside a massive log, overgrown with moss and ferns. It had ripped a huge hole in the canopy when it fell, creating a clearing that let in the light. The sky was darker now, completely clouded over. The storm would break soon. Sefia sat down on the log and put her chin in her hands. They were losing time. It was already midafternoon. The boy stood awkwardly clutching the canteen.
    â€œThey’re probably looking for you,” she said, plucking it out of his hands. “You should get as far away from them as you can.” She waved him away, trying to ignore the pained expression in his eyes. “Now.”
    The boy looked down at his bare feet.
    â€œYou don’t understand.” Her voice rose. She fluttered her hands uselessly at him. “I can’t take care of you!” She was speaking too loudly. She wasn’t listening hard enough. Behind her, footsteps crunched in the mulch. “It’s too dangerous.” She didn’t hear the creaking of leather or the men’s voices either. A last desperate hiss: “Just go!”
    Two men stumbled into the clearing. Hatchet’s men. Sefia recognized the young sentry, though now his hair had been roughed up on one side and there was a bruise soaking his cheek. The other man was already pulling out his sword.
    Sefia jumped to her feet, swinging her bow from her backand nocking an arrow in one smooth motion. The sentry cried out. Their swords flashed.
    She let the arrow fly.
    But the boy was faster than