His loaves of bread had gone mouldy overnight, leaving him hungry from the second he woke up. He didn’t even dare give chunks of it to Sparks, despite how hungry she might be. The creek for which Hurendi Creek got its name was loud in his ears, rushing through the scrub not far from where he set up his camp.

Furious once again, he tossed the loaves into the creek for the ducks to eat. He boiled more water to wash down the few chunks he had eaten the night before, hoping that he wouldn’t get sick from it. He had no more food for either him or Sparks and he didn’t want to go hungry. Half the water went to her, but it wasn’t going to be enough, not if he wanted to get them to New Feridian in one piece.

That answered the question he had been pondering over since the morning before. Should he take the job offered to him by Hendricks? Immediately, the large part of his mind said no. It wasn’t a good idea, it wasn’t safe for him, but then doubt sprang up, whispering like a snake. He would be comfortable, he would have money and food and vireen. He’d be able to look after Sparks, who didn’t deserve to struggle like he did.

The thing was, he didn’t want to bow down to the Governor or any of her lackeys. They’d tried to keep him tied down, working on dying crops for little pay until he died. He didn’t want that. He wanted to roam about the land with his horse, taking what he needed and living off the land. It had been so simple for seven years, aside from the constant scuffles with Spencer. He never fought much with the other rangers he came across, but Spencer got off on tormenting him.

He needed to stop thinking about him, but the latest fight with him wasn’t leaving his mind. Constantly, he was drifting back to it, lingering on it when he shouldn’t. He planned to never run into Spencer again, but it hurt to think sometimes. For years, Spencer had been a constant thing in his life, despite the fights and the stealing. It was something he had gotten used to, but something he wasn’t sure if he would miss once he left.

At one point, he had thought about telling him that he was leaving, but knowing his luck, he would follow him just to torment him. It was best to disappear and never be heard from again so no one would think to look for him. Perhaps working for the Governor would be a good way to get away without anyone knowing.

He wouldn’t have to work for her for long. Only until he either saved up enough gold for him to be happy or the threat of the native tribes disappeared. One seemed like it would happen faster than the other, but the idea of working there for anything length of time still made anxiety well in his gut.

“What do you think, Sparks?” he asked, petting the horse’s snout.

She snorted in response, pressed her snout against his hand and stared at him with her big dark eyes. She wasn’t going to be any help, all she wanted was something to eat that wasn’t prickly grass. He heaved a sigh and moved away from her to clean up the tiny camp he had made the night before. Their hunger had made up his mind for him.

“Please don’t make me regret this, girl,” he whispered as he climbed up onto her.

The idea of working with other people, working for them, was awful. It had always been him and his horse against the world. Even on the days where he and Spencer got along, they didn’t work together. It was easier to keep all the loot to himself if he never had to share it in the first place.

He didn’t care how much the other rangers struggled, he wasn’t going to help them. If they couldn’t look after themselves, then what were they doing out in the bush? Most who didn’t know what they were doing were caught and sent to the harsh penitentiaries, but Vincent was smart, he knew what he was doing. And if he stayed on his own then there was less chance of being caught and more loot for him.

That was what he repeated to himself as he rode back down the winding road. It was rare for him to return to a town so soon after he left and a few people eyed him in confusion as he rode past the first few houses. Some days, it came as a surprise to him that the police didn’t just arrest him the moment they saw him. In the state he was in that morning, they probably could have done it with ease. Perhaps the police had more important things to worry about than a ranger trying to find a man at the inn.

Or they were scared of him. The bounty on his head wasn’t just for robberies, but for murder as well. Specifically, the murder of policemen who had tried to capture him. It was only two counts, but it was enough for some of the smaller officers to be wary of him. He didn’t mean to kill, but if it was him or them, then the answer was always him.

The inn was a small double-storey building made of dark wood and slowly falling to pieces. Like most of the buildings in Hurendi Creek and the surrounding towns, the wood was starting to either rot or fall away, the nails no longer enough to hold the planks in place. The streets were filled with muck and horse crap, and no one bothered to clean it because they weren’t going to be paid enough.

Hopefully, the other two provinces were going to be different. He still had no idea which one he was going to go to, but if he was going to take the job from the Governor, then he had plenty of time to figure it out. All he could do was work for long enough to feel comfortable, then move on to somewhere that might be better for him.

He tied Sparks to a post outside the inn, next to a black stallion that looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. The two steps up to the inn’s entrance creaked loudly under his leather boots and for a second he was sure they would snap. It was hardly the place he expected an employee of the Governor to be staying but there wasn’t much choice in a town like Hurendi Creek.

He might be well known around the area, but of the few people sitting in the inn, only one spared him a glance. The innkeeper was busy cleaning glasses and talking to a man at the bar. Early morning light seeped in through the window and glinted off the bottles on the back shelf. Stairs to one side led up to the small number of rooms, which probably creaked just as badly as the ones outside.

The familiar grey hair of the man he had spoken to yesterday sat near the stairs, eating a plate of gruel. Drumming his fingers against his leg, Vincent strode towards Henricks and cleared his throat when he reached him. Surprised eyes looked up at him and after a second, a smile spread across cracked lips.

“Mister Mortimer, good to see you,” he said, gesturing for Vincent to sit across from him. “Would you like something to eat?”

Vincent sat and shook his head. He wasn’t going to owe Henricks anything, or show him just how bad things were. He would eat properly another time. “No, but if you can spare two gold so I can buy my horse something that isn’t prickly grass, that would be much appreciated,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the flimsy seat.

“That I can do for you. You’ll need your horse if you want to come with us to New Feridian,” the old man replied, a smug look in his eyes.

“How do you know that that’s why I’m here?” Vincent asked.

“Someone like you wouldn’t show up here just to tell me you weren’t interested,” Henricks said. “You’d ride on and leave me here.”

For a long time, Vincent didn’t say a word. It hurt his pride enough to agree to the job internally, but to actually speak the words took far more effort than he had first thought. He wanted to believe that things were going to start looking up soon, but even just looking around at the decrepit state of the inn, he could tell that it was all just wishful thinking. For the first time in his life, his survival depended on Governor Thompson.

He ran a hand through his messy mop of hair, watching the old man wrinkle his nose at the gruel before him. “I’ll come with you,” Vincent said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How long until you plan to leave?”

“Well, now that I have you on board, I don’t see much point in sticking around. Do you have any business you need to attend to?” he asked.

“No,” he said without hesitation, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It hadn’t even been two minutes and already, the decision felt like the wrong one. But when he truly thought about it, he didn’t feel like there was much choice. Berries and the occasional trapping would only get him so far. He found joy in what he did, fighting the authorities that didn’t bother to look after them, but there wasn’t much point in it anymore if he wasn’t getting anything out of it.

Others would have fought harder to get what they needed. He’d already heard about their jobs, bank robberies and attacks on mayors, but he’d also heard what happened to most of those who tried such things. In penitentiaries, you got food, if you were lucky. For the most part, you suffered. Vincent wasn’t going to plan some pointless heist only to get caught because he didn’t have vireen. There were other options.

Besides, what better way to take from the authorities than to do it right under their noses? It would be hard. He had no doubt that they would be keeping a watchful eye over him, but if he wormed his way in, acted like a good little boy, eventually, it would be easy. And then he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty.