Watersmeet by Ellen Jensen Abbott

For both of you.”
    Haret took her hand. “I will. Good-bye, Grandmother.”
    Hoysta embraced her grandson, her tears falling openly, and scuttled back under the branches, her sobs fading as she disappeared down the tunnel.

CHAPTER VII
     
    As they set off, Abisina gloried in the air on her face, the spicy smell of pines, the cacophony of bird calls, and the hazy green of budding leaves covering the maples, oaks, and beeches. The drought was over. All over the forest, water gurgled underground and dripped from the trees. The pine needles beneath her feet were slippery with melting snow.
    “How much snow did we get?” Abisina wondered aloud.
    “Twice the size of you,” Haret grunted.
    Even Haret couldn’t bother her now. Abisina sighed happily. Everywhere she looked, Spring asserted herself, and Abisina drank it in.
    But this euphoria did not last. They followed a trail north, threading through tall groves mercifully clear of undergrowth. As the day progressed, however, the path narrowed and then faded away altogether, while the undergrowth grew thicker. Soon they had to pick their way among saplings, brambles, and brush that pulled at Abisina’s clothes, slapped her in the face, and pricked her hands until they bled. Clouds of gnats clustered around her eyes and whined in her ears.
    These irritations were nothing new—she had worked hard in Vranille and in the forests surrounding it. But after her injuries, followed by months of confinement in the cave, Abisina had lost her hardness. And Haret set an infuriating pace. Although her legs were longer than his, she had to jog to keep up. For six hours they climbed uphill without rest—except for the times she slipped on pine needles and fell, once landing on an exposed root. The spot on her hip still throbbed, and she knew a purple bruise was hidden underneath her leggings. After this fall, Haret paused long enough for Abisina to get back on her feet and then set off.
    Abisina vowed that she would not ask Haret for a rest. But as the shadows of the trees lengthened, she could go no farther. They had not eaten since they left the cave. She had sipped from her water skin, but her mouth was dry and her head ached. Though walking kept her body warm, her hands and feet were ice.
    “Haret!” His pace did not slacken. “Haret!” Louder.
    Still nothing.
    “Haret!” she yelled, and he spun around.
    “Quiet, human! You’ve now alerted all the centaurs to our presence.”
    “I have to rest. And eat,” she said, lowering her voice and casting a fearful glance around her.
    “Not here.” Haret kept moving.
    “Haret, please.” Abisina hated herself for sounding pitiful, but he merely ducked under some branches and disappeared. Abisina had no choice but to follow his back under more boughs. When he stopped, they were beneath a squat bush just putting forth its leaves. Haret crouched on the ground and opened his bag. Abisina sank onto the damp earth beside him, not meeting his eye when he handed her something dark and stiff.
    She recognized it immediately—one of Hoysta’s smoked moles. It was bound to be nasty, but she had to eat it. She wiped her hair from her face and put the whole thing in her mouth, almost breaking a tooth on the tough, sinewy meat. It tasted mostly of smoke, but she could detect a little of the familiar muddiness. She was still chewing the meat into a softness she could swallow, when Haret put his bag back on his shoulder.
    Not yet , Abisina thought. “I need more food.” Her voice was firm.
    “More?”
    Abisina got four moles out of him and four long drinks, Haret looking on in disgust.
    As Abisina rose to her feet, she saw that Haret had pulled her mother’s necklace from under his cloak and was caressing it.
    Abisina gasped, startling Haret. He turned away and stuffed the necklace back into his tunic.
    It was all Abisina could do to command her emotions—remembering her mother with a hand at her throat. We were supposed to go on this