HIGH ON THE PASS

1560 4D

Following Derizan and his family, Darvelia picked her way in the snow-footsteps that led onward, each hand on a child’s shoulder beside her. Her husband had still not caught up with them.

It had been a while, well before she’d met these people. They’d been let off the train at a valley station several kays back, down the pass. She’d faced the guard on the platform. “Where’s our shipment? There’re no freight cars on this train, just people.”

He’d shrugged, smiled lamely. “The furniture and belongings usually come separately. Don’t worry.” He glanced at Shellane, then Nassa, then again at Darvelia, started to speak, and turned away. He slung his beam rifle, kicking sharply at the walls of plowed snow by the platform.

“We need to get blankets,” she called to him. “These clothes aren’t warm enough for this wind.”

“Don’t worry,” the guard called back, his voice wavering in the gusts. He picked up his pace and disappeared through the line of relocated City dwellers moving out ahead of Darvelia.

“Don’t worry.” Her husband’s mocking voice had startled her.

“Dennon! I thought you’d missed the train at the last stop. What’s that?”

He’d handed her three packets of fried tubers. “Got these from a stand just before I got on board. They’re good, but it took a lot of our scrip.”

She hadn’t asked how much, as she and the children had sunk their teeth into the slightly soggy, oily delights still warm from Dennon’s body heat.

But now she was high on the pass, moving forward through the terrible chill with Nassa and Shellane, and Dennon was gone again. She looked back for him again and again, her fear growing each time.