They weren't there. Could have moved north if they thought trouble was coming. " At's jaw tightened at the word trouble. She didn't respond. Elias considered the risks.
The northern ridge wasn't exactly safe. Bounty hunters, desperate ranchers, the occasional outlaw group. They all moved through these lands. In an isolated Apache family was easy prey for cruel men looking for power or payment. "You think they're still heading toward the ridge?
" Elias asked. Ata nodded once. "It's the last place we agreed on. " "Then we'll get you there? " Elias said.
His voice was steady, not warm, but solid. Ata noticed the certainty in it. She didn't show it outwardly, but it gave her a sense of direction she had been missing since she collapsed by the well. For the first time since leaving her family behind, she wasn't walking blind. They continued north.
The land grew harsher, the sun stronger. Elias stopped twice to let her drink water, and once more to check the horse's hooves. Each time, Ata kept a watchful distance, as if every second of rest risked something. She wasn't used to letting someone else take the lead. At midday, they reached a narrow canyon cut into the earth by years of wind.
Elias guided the horse inside for shade. The light dimmed, the air cooler, echoing softly against the rock walls. Ata slid down from the saddle, breathing heavily. Elias didn't miss how her hand pressed her ribs for a moment. Pain she didn't want him to see.
"You hurt there? " he asked. "It's nothing. It wasn't nothing. " Elias could read injuries the way others read maps, but he didn't force the issue.
He crouched near his pack, pulling out a water skin and a strip of dried meat. "You should eat. " She hesitated, then took it quietly. Her hand shook slightly, not from fear this time, but from hunger. As they rested, Elias addressed the question most listeners would ask.
"How could he be so willing to help a stranger after losing so much himself? " He answered it without being prompted. I used to walk alone because it felt easier. No one to disappoint, no one to lose, but it doesn't fix anything. He stared at the canyon floor, voice low and honest.
Leaving people behind didn't stop the memories. Didn't stop the guilt either. Ata listened without interrupting. She didn't know his brother's story yet, but she could see the weight of it in his posture. How he carried himself with a mix of discipline and fatigue.
After a long silence, she spoke. "People help me once, then they didn't. I learned it's better not to trust too quickly. " "I don't expect quick, " Elias replied. "Just steady.