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And she ate. It was salty and tough, but it was food. She ate slowly, savoring every bite.
Where are you from? he asked.
From Thornhill Farm.
Marcus’s face changed. He looked stunned, then angry.
Thornhill? That place is supposed to be deserted. Everyone knows the war ended slavery 30 years ago.
It’s not there, Amelia said. Nobody told us. Nobody came. We didn’t know.
Marcus stared at her for a long time.
How many are still there?
Forty-three. Maybe fewer now.
Marcus stood up and began pacing. He looked like he wanted to smash something.
We have to tell someone. When we get to the settlement, we have to tell them.
They won’t believe us, Amelia said quietly.
They will. I’ll make them believe.
Amelia looked at him. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that someone would care. But she had learned long ago that wanting something didn’t make it happen.
Marcus sat down again.
We’ll rest here tonight. We’ll move at first light. I’ll stay awake. You go to sleep.
I can’t sleep, Amelia said.
Why?
Every time I close my eyes, I hear the dogs.
The dogs are gone, he said.
She shook her head slowly.
They always come back.
He didn’t argue. He just nodded.
Then we’ll stay awake together.
They sat in silence as the sun swallowed the horizon and darkness fell. The woods filled with sounds: crickets, frogs, owls, and things moving in the undergrowth. Amelia jumped at every sound. Marcus was calm. He had been there before. He knew which sounds meant danger and which didn’t.
Near midnight, Marcus spoke.
Do you have family there?
No. They’re either dead or sold. I don’t know which.
I’m sorry, he said. Don’t be. I’m out now. That’s all that matters.
Marcus looked at her.
You’re strong. Stronger than most I’ve ever known. You’ll make it.
You don’t know that, she said.
Yes, I do.
She didn’t reply. She drew her knees to her chest and stared into the darkness.
Somewhere out there, Cyrus and his men were searching for her.
Somewhere out there, the dogs were resting, waiting to be set free again.
Somewhere out there, forty-two people were still living in chains, believing that this was all there was to life.
She thought of Ruth. She wondered if she knew about her escape. If she was proud or scared, or both. She wondered if she would ever see her again.
She wouldn’t let herself cry.
Crying wouldn’t help.
It made you weak, and she couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now.
As the night wore on, exhaustion finally won out. Amelia closed her eyes. She fell asleep sitting up, her head resting on her knees. She dreamt of dogs with red eyes, men with guns, and a river she couldn’t reach.
When she woke, Marcus was shaking her shoulder.
We have to move. Now.
Why? What happened?
She heard voices about a mile away. They’re coming from this direction.
Amelia stood up. Her feet ached. She ignored it.
How many are there?
I don’t know. At least three, maybe more.
They grabbed their belongings and started moving quickly. The sun was barely up, the forest gray and shady. They hurried north, pushing through the undergrowth and past fallen trees.
Behind them, the voices grew closer.
Here! I see footprints!
Amelia and Marcus ran. Her feet ached terribly, and her footsteps left a distinct trail in the damp earth. She knew they could follow him. She knew they were leaving a clear mark, but there was nothing she could do about it.
They came to a deep, narrow ravine with steep sides, a small stream flowing at the bottom. Marcus looked at Amelia.
We have to jump.
I can’t.
Yes, you can. On a count. One, two, three.
They jumped.
Amelia hit the ground and tumbled. Pain shot through her ankle like fire. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming. Marcus landed beside her and immediately pulled her to her feet.
Keep moving.
They stumbled to the bottom of the ravine, wading through the stream. The water was cold, and Amelia felt it soothe the burning pain in her feet. They moved as fast as they could, but Amelia began to slow down. Her ankle