Somehow, someway, she had promised herself, the Ilse Witch would be made to pay for Hawk’s death. It was something she had vowed while she lay belowdecks, still too weak even to sit up, unable to stop thinking about what she had witnessed. There would be a reckoning for Hawk, and Little Red wanted to be the one to bring it about.
The day was dragging on toward midafternoon, the sky a mass of thick gray clouds, the sun screened away, the air raw with cold. At least they were sufficiently sheltered by the landfall to be protected from the bitter wind and sleet blowing with such ferocity along the coast. She marveled at the oddness of the weather there, so different on the coast than inland, so unexplainably in contrast. Only Shrikes and gulls and the like could make homes in the cliffs of the coastal waters. Humans could never live here in any comfort. She wondered if humans lived inland. She wondered if there were humans anywhere at all.
“Afternoon,” a voice growled, snapping her out of her reverie. She turned to find Hunter Predd standing a few feet away, his wiry frame wrapped in a heavy cloak, his weathered features ruddy and bemused. She smiled ruefully. “Sorry. I was somewhere else. Good afternoon to you.”
He moved a step closer, looking out toward the ocean. “There’s a big storm coming on, a bad one. Saw it building out there while flying in with the last of the hemp and reed. It might lock us down for a few days.”
“We’re locked down anyway until the ship can fly again. What’s it looking like now, two or three more days at least before we can get under way again?” “At least.”
“Are you foraging for materials still?”
He shook his head and ran one gnarled hand through his windblown hair. “No, we’re done. It’s up to Black Beard and the others to make it all work now.”
She gestured him over. “Sit down. Talk with me. I’m sick of talking with myself.”
She made room for him on the bench, swinging her legs off and placing her feet carefully on the decking. She winced in spite of herself at the pain the effort brought on.
The sharp eyes darted toward her. “Still a little tender, I guess.” “Do all Wing Riders possess such acute powers of observation?” He chuckled softly. “Feelings seem a little tender, too.” She didn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at her legs, her boots, the decking. Time passed. She felt a great void in her heart, a place opening up where opportunity slipped away while she sat doing nothing.
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “How long has it been since we left them? More than a week anyway, isn’t it? Too long, Wing Rider. Way too long.”
He nodded, his brow furrowing. He started to say something, then stopped, as if deciding that anything he had to say was unnecessary. He clasped his hands about one knee and rocked back slightly in his cloak, grizzled head shaking.
“You can’t favor this delay any more than I do,” she said. “You must want to do something about it, too.”
He nodded. “I’ve been considering it.”
“If we could just find out if they are all right, if they would be safe enough until the ship could reach them . . .”
She didn’t finish, waiting on him to do so for her. He looked off into the distance instead, as if trying to spy them through the mist and cold. Then he nodded once more. “I could take a look for them. I could leave now, in fact. Should leave now, because once the storm comes in, it won’t be so easy to fly out.”
She leaned forward eagerly, red hair fanning out about her shoulders. “I have the coordinates Big Red mapped out from our journey in. We won’t have any trouble following them back.”
He looked at her in surprise. “We?”
“I’m going with you.”
He shook his head. “Your brother won’t let you go and you know it. He’ll put a stop to it before you finish telling him what you intend.”