from its neck reared up next to them. Taller than a cow, but unmistakably a horse. The last one they’d had in Hutton’s Bridge died forty years ago. Without a significant pasture to roam, their horses became lame and weak, eventually unable, or unwilling, to reproduce. Granna had told Tressa about their magnificence. One more of Granna’s stories come to life.
A man sat atop the horse’s strong back, his legs grasping tight to the horse’s barrel, reminding Tressa of her own legs wrapped around Bastian a few short hours ago.
A blush spread across her face. It wasn’t shame; it was anticipation for what lie ahead.
Bastian drew his sword, his other arm hovering in front of Tressa.
Tressa eyed the man. He didn’t wear all black like the soldiers who’d taken and killed Connor. His dark hair was cut short. A mustache graced his upper lip and a friendly twinkle sparkled in his eyes. No, he wasn’t here to harm them. A simple passerby, perhaps.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, his voice steady and non-threatening.
A shape swooped from above and landed on Tressa’s shoulder. “Nerak!” She reached up and ruffled the owl’s feathers.
The man chuckled and slipped off his horse. Bastian still hadn’t lowered his weapon, his muscles as tense as ever.
Tressa rested a hand on his arm. “If he’s with Nerak, I’m sure he’s okay.”
“You don’t know that,” Bastian said. “She may have led us out of the fog, but she also took us straight toward Stacia’s army.”
A shadow fell across the man’s face. “Stacia is our enemy. She may be the queen,” his eyes were downcast, but filled with fire, “but she’s had us under her thumb for too long. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Nerak dug into Tressa’s shoulder. “You have the wrong people,” she said. “We’ve only recently arrived here. We’re not from this land.”
“I’d know my own daughter anywhere.” He reached out his hand.
Before he could connect with her trembling cheek, Bastian’s arm shot out, blocking him.
“Don’t touch her,” he warned.
The man pulled his hand back, unruffled. “Are the two of you coupled?” The man lowered his eyes to their partially dressed bodies. He’d managed to avoid making their lack of clothes an issue until that moment.
“Yes,” Bastian said, “since she first pulled my ribbon from the basket.”
The man nodded. “Congratulations, Tressa, for finding a man who cares for you. It’s unusual when marriage is left to fate and reproduction.”
Tressa’s mouth hung, slack. He knew her name.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Bastian whispered in her ear. “He could have been sent by Stacia.”
Tressa ignored his breath on her cheek, giving her full attention to the man in front of her. She didn’t remember her father. He’d left when she was only a babe, leaving her to Granna’s care. He knew disappearing into the fog was a death sentence. No one ever returned. No one lived.
She, Bastian, and Connor had proven them wrong. There was life beyond the fog. If they could survive, why couldn’t her father?
Nerak’s talons dug into her again. Truth. Believe.
But if he lived, why didn’t he ever come back for her and Granna? Her heart tugged at the thought. It was the same decision Bastian made. To stay with her. Not to run back the first chance he got.
“I couldn’t find my way back,” the man said, answering her unasked question. Her father, if she believed him. “I tried. I failed. And I wasn’t the first. There’s a small community of us in the forest.”
“And Stacia lets you live?”
He sighed and looked over his shoulder. “She doesn’t know we’re there. Unlike Hutton’s Bridge, which everyone knows about, she doesn’t realize some of us escaped. We remain hidden.”
“We should at least go to his village,” Tressa said, despite her trepidation. “Where else can we go, Bastian?”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed. She knew he didn’t believe a word the man said. She wasn’t sure she did either. They had no options other than to wander.
The man shook his head. “You’re Bastian? Incredible! Your mother, Jayne, lives in the community.” He laughed. “I should have seen the resemblance. You have the same eyes.”
Bastian swung his gaze to the man. “My mother is dead.”
“No, she’s not. She left six years after I did. I know because I found her bloodied at the edge of the forest, alone. The other two people with her died in the fog. By some miracle, she found her way out. Do you remember her?”
Bastian nodded slowly. Tressa could only image the pain flooding through him. She’d