Chapter 5: Charcoal and Salt

"Move," Thora said, and walked straight at Joren's rifle.

The barrel stopped an inch from her ribs.

"You're not going anywhere," Joren said.

"Dax's beacon is two kilometers north. The medics did not take him."

"The beacon's broken."

"Then shoot me and go and look yourself."

Nobody in the clearing breathed.

Joren's finger stayed on the guard.

Then Ansel stood up from the pot.

"I'll go with her," he said. "I can't just sit here."

"Me too," Keir said, and for once he did not smile.

Joren lowered the rifle by half an inch.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm watching you."

"Watch the trail," Thora said. "It's getting dark."

They went north in a line, with Thora in front and the drone buzzing at her shoulder.

The beacon grew louder with every step.

They found Dax in a hollow between two tree roots, curled on his side in a pool of his own sick.

His lips were gray and his skin was hot, and when Thora knelt and touched his neck his pulse was racing.

His eyes cracked open.

They found her face, and he tried to push himself away.

"You," he said. "Get back."

"Be quiet," she said.

"You poisoned it. Stella said..."

"Stella said a lot of things. How much did you drink?"

He stared at her.

"A flask," he said at last. "Most of it."

"When?"

"Noon. I threw up twice."

"Good. Keep doing that if you have to."

She turned to Ansel.

"I need a fire. Small, fast, and I need the charcoal from it. Hardwood, black through."

Ansel went without a word.

She turned to Keir.

"Water. Clean, from the river. Take the filter straw."

Keir took the straw and went.

When she looked back, Dax was watching her with his tired green eyes.

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