There was no worse feeling than knowing you were a wanted criminal on the run. Maya had to keep sniffing her tears back in an attempt to be strong and a refusal to be sad. She wanted to be angry, she should be angry, but somehow, she cannot. Anger was an emotion she had already exhausted.

She hid her sullen face under the shadows, made possible by the trees looming high above them. Zachary was possibly aware of her almost-falling tears as he kept turning his head to frisk over her. “It’s okay to cry,” he said earlier. “Well, maybe not. You’re gonna have to get use to this.”

They sat on their horses in silence for the next hour as they passed through a hill valley far from the outskirts of Asma City. There was no dirt road to follow as they walked free among the trees and bushes, providing them with more assurance that they would travel undetected from the Military.

The cons of it? They both had no idea where they were.

“How’s your arm?” asked Maya. Zachary refused to receive help from her earlier. He insisted on bandaging the wound himself, which Maya was thankful of. He did a pretty good job anyway and she would have just ruined it.

“Meh,” he replied.

“Does it hurt?”

“What do you think?”

“…Will it heal soon?”

Zachary slumped. “Look,” he said, holding his hands up, “I know you’re really confused right now and probably need a good night’s sleep to settle your thoughts… but can’t you ask other questions?”

“Okay… Uh, what did I get myself into?”

“Excellent question.” An excited gleam ran through his eyes. “You, Malaya, just got yourself into the Youngblood Resistance. That name ring a bell?”

The name did at least sound familiar to Maya, but she could not recall where she heard it from. She encountered too many rebels on the Kingfisher to pinpoint details in her hazy memories.

He rolled his eyes when she replied with a negative. “Oh, come on,” he said. “Youngblood Resistance? Are you for real? That name sends people running for their treacherous lives!”

She scowled at him. “I don’t know what kind of people you run into, but I’m sure most of everyone doesn’t know that name.”

Zachary could barely contain his disappointment. “The Youngblood Resistance,” he said, “is the biggest rebellion that the Military faces.”

He made it seem like he was going to say more that Maya actually waited with expectant ears. Unfortunately, Zachary just stared back with a questioning face.

“That’s all?” she asked, unable to mask her mockery.

“Of course that’s all. What, you expected some kind of lecture?”

“Uh, yes.”

He frowned. “The Resistance is an experience, Malaya. It’s not something I can describe. Give me the next question so we can move on.”

Maya felt a stab of anger striking at her. Zachary was unnecessarily rude to her, and he was proving to be more and more of a handful. They weren’t traits that Maya could cope up with, but she knew she had to endure. “Forget it,” she said. “No more questions. Just tell me if Mossmore is somewhere nearby already.”

“That could’ve been a question,” he joked. When Maya stared icy daggers at him, he backed down. “Alright, sorry. All I know is that we’re facing east, meaning that we’re going the right direction. Other than that, well, it’s a blur. I don’t have a map, but if we just keep this on, we’ll reach Mossmore.”

She wondered if she heard right. “Are you saying we’re running around lost?”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that, but basically, yeah.”

Her head hung down so low that she almost kissed the horse’s neck. “Oh my gods…” she muttered. She felt like a fool to trust Zachary. He just kept leading her into worse situations, making her wonder if it was too late to turn around and just deal with her problems on her own. Unfortunately, that was impossible for a wanted criminal like her.

She instead stared at her hands that were clenched on the reins. Nothing was going to stop her from saving Mister Castel, she had already decided that long ago. If Zachary was going to be useless, then she had no choice but to be her own saviour.

She scoured her mind for information, trying to remember where Mossmore was on the Kingfisher’s giant map in the captain’s quarters. “Mossmore…” she whispered. “It’s south east of Asma, right?”

Zachary’s eyes glinted with surprise. “Yes, that’s right…”

Maya looked up at the sun. It was still before noon, and the sun was almost behind her to her right. They were in the right direction, at least, and for someone who grew up on a ship, that was enough. “I don’t know where we are now, but Mossmore could be… four or five hours from Asma? We couldn’t have passed by it yet.”

“Wow,” said Zachary, amused. “You’re rebel material, huh?”

“Don’t try to group me with you,” she said.

“It’s true though. You’re brave, you have grit, and you can navigate! Seems like I made the right decision to scout you.”

She laughed sardonically. “You didn’t ‘scout’ me, you’re merely paying me back for the damage you’ve caused.”

He shrugged. “Same thing. Hey, is that a tent over there?” He suddenly squinted his eyes and pointed to something ahead of them.

He was right. In the distance, where the trees were cleared and the hills were low, stood a small settlement with a small number of scattered tents. There were crates and tables, horses and wagons, and only sparse people, but the items they had lying around were in a multitude.

“A caravan,” Zachary said. He patted his satchel. “I’ll need some things. By the way, I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but I stole this bag from your ship. It was lying around is some room. You guys should get locks.”

She gaped at him.

He replied with a boisterous laugh right before he galloped his horse away from her. She gritted her teeth before she did the same.

In no time, they arrived at the caravan and the two of them immediately dismounted their horses. It was an action both of them took as mistakes, though. They were suddenly surrounded by armed people.

Seven or eight caravan workers brandished their curved swords at Maya and Zachary. They encircled them, threatening to skewer if they moved.

Maya froze instantly, her eyes darting from one person to another. Her hands trembled.

Zachary was just as frozen as she was, but he at least could raise his hands in the air. Fear was absent from his face, but caution wasn’t. “We’re not here to harm anyone,” he said.

From the armed people surrounding the two stepped out a woman. She was in her late thirties and was portly with a short haircut, and yet she looked to be the most intimidating out of all them. She did not have a sword like the others, but she instead wielded a thick rice-pounding stick.

Her eyes skimmed over the two. “Who are you people?” Her voice was rich, intimidating, and full of authority.

“Travellers,” Zachary said. “We lost our map and compass and cannot find our way to Mossmore.”

Maya tried to help by nodding.

The stick-wielding woman did not seem convinced with her crossed arms. She eyed Zachary’s bloody shirt. Maya coiled in child-like fear.

“Travellers don’t come ‘round this area…” the woman said. “We’re too far from the road.”

“Well, you can say that we travelled off road.” Zachary smirked.

Maya, meanwhile, stared at him in disbelief.

Fortunately, the woman took Zachary’s humour with her very own. She laughed bitterly and asked, “You got something to buy then?” It sounded more like an order than a question.

Keeping his other hand raised in the air, Zachary fished into his satchel and brought out a small cloth pouch. He shook it once, and it clinked with the metal sounds of dinoles.

Like a candle just lit, the woman’s face of firmness quickly transformed into that of joy and slyness. “Why didn’t you say so?” she said, her voice almost singing. She snatched the pouch out of Zachary’s hand and waved her companions away. Everyone dispersed with shrugs and chuckles.

Maya raised both her eyebrows at Zachary. “That wasn’t your money.”

“As a matter of fact, it is. Not everything I have is stolen.”

The boss woman led the way for the two deeper into the caravan. She allowed them for glances and stares at the different kind of wares up for sale. Decorative urns, stony jewellery, and some sort of herbs in rolled paper argued for Maya’s undivided attention. Unfortunately, nothing could distract her more than Zachary’s tugging at his blood-soaked shirt.

He frequently scratched the skin under all the blood. His breathing sounded sort of shattered as well, leaving Maya to wonder if he was feeling alright.

“Looks like you need painkillers,” said the woman.

“Sounds like it, too,” added Maya.

He ignored them and tugged at the bandana on his head. “Do you have hair dye?” he asked.

“No, but we have water, food, and bandages. On what state of mind are you in that you need hair dye?”

“My mind is perfectly okay,” Zachary defended. “But, are there anything else you have?”

“We sell information, sonny,” said the woman as she went behind a large wooden table displaying weaponry and other goodies. An open tent behind showcased a collection of targes and soft-weave tapestries. “If that’s what you’re into.”

Maya took the deal. “Any news about the Military?” she asked desperately. She’ll never know if Mister Castel would be faring fine, but she could at least learn about the Military’s movements.

The woman’s face turned sour. “Military? I dunno anything. In fact, I don’t want to have anything to do with them.”

She frowned. “Did something happen?”

“Soldiers just don’t know their places, that’s all. They take our merchandise away, claiming it to be illegal trading practice. With all them new rules the new system is puttin’ up, how are common folk supposed to make a living?” She huffed and shook her head. “People are so uptight nowadays. But that drama aside, let’s get back to business. Ya need anything else? We have the best of the best weapons right here!”

Maya held her hands up. The idea of holding a weapon never even went through her. “Oh, we don’t need—”

The woman took hold of a platinum-colored pistol and pushed it into Maya’s hands. “Young lady, I think this newly developed pistol would suit ya quite well! Engraved meticulously by the best artisan, we stole it from him! Was s’posed to be a gift to some kind of rich guy, but why would he need something that pretty anyway?”

The cold touch of the pistol seeped into Maya’s bandaged hand. It was indeed very pretty with all the engravings and intricate swirls, very much like her metal box in her pocket. But still, aesthetic didn’t strike Maya as heavily as the danger it upheld.

She handed it back. “Thank you, but I don’t think I want it,” she said. “I’ve had enough of pistols.”

Maya watched as the woman looked at her pitifully. She tried not to notice. “Actually,” said Maya again, “Do you have a doctor around in here? I don’t think my friend can keep going with just painkillers.”

Zachary glared at her.

The woman just huffed. “Happens to all of us. I walked myself five hours to the infirmary after I got gutted in the stomach. Didn’t feel death coming ‘til I was actually safe. Anyway, no, we don’t have a doctor. Where were you headed again?”

“Mossmore.”

She grinned. “Well, just your luck! My husband will be riding his cart there for a delivery! Why don’t you two join him? He can lead the way!”

Zachary didn’t look happy about that. His lips turned down and he crossed his arms.

Maya didn’t know what he was worried about, but she didn’t bother to think about it. “We’ll take the offer,” she said.

The caravan woman jingled Zachary’s heavy coin pouch in front of them. “There’s going to be a lot of excess fee.”

“Keep it.” It wasn’t Zachary’s money anyway, even if he said it was.

“I would, even if you didn’t say that.” She pointed her thumb to somewhere at the back of the caravan. “Mossmore is four hours away from here. My husband’s back there, just tell him you paid me already.” 

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