Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,56

of a chance of coming back to this world in a group than you do by yourself.”

She chose to leave out the fact that after the cataclysm, when the mist was at its worst, it could carry off entire cities teeming with people. That’s how the Badlands formed. Once settled by thousands of people, they were now a desolate wasteland where only the insane, foolhardy, and desperate visited.

“Some of Eamon’s men said you had them tie themselves to one of these trees,” Fiona said from the front, her eyes piercing and intent.

Shea hadn’t noticed her among the crowd. She nodded. “I did. The soul trees are deeply rooted in this world and their size acts as an anchor. My suggestion would be to find one and stay with it until the mist abates.”

The stranger snorted, a sound filled with skepticism. “This is all you have? If you walked out of the mist when you were six and twelve, it doesn’t sound too dangerous. Why should we believe you?”

Shea shrugged, the gesture careless. “Believe what you like. It’s your life to live as you choose. Its loss makes no difference to me. I think, though, you know on some level that the mist is dangerous. Why else would you be here? Why else would any of you be here?”

“Easy words for a throwaway to say. You’re not the one who is going to be out there. For all we know everything you just said will get us killed.”

Shea gave him a long look filled with disdain. Guess she should have expected that as his next volley.

Before she could reply, Daere’s voice was a whip through the air. “Watch how you speak to the Hawkvale’s Telroi.”

Her words had an immediate effect on those who didn’t already know. The strangers and a few of Wind Division studied her with new eyes, assessing, cataloging, and trying to decide what about this throwaway had so drawn their warlord. Shea fought not to react, though she’d always loathed being the center of attention in matters not related to pathfinding.

She knew what they’d see, a woman with unruly hair just brushing her shoulders. One who was of average height and average looks. Sometimes she questioned what he saw in her too. She wasn’t politically powerful, and since she’d burned the maps that showed the secret paths to the Highlands—she didn’t have leverage with him that way. She’d be the first to admit she had a bit of a temper, and she wasn’t the nicest of individuals on occasion.

Daere’s words seemed to work, acting like a blast of cold water. However, Shea was pretty sure by the way the stranger was eyeing her that she hadn’t managed to sway him much. She gave a mental shrug. He’d believe her, or he wouldn’t. She’d tried. She’d even taken Eamon’s advice and tried to explain rather than just tell. What he did with that information was now on him. She just hoped he didn’t get others killed through his own hardheadedness.

A few of the others seemed to take her words to heart, dutifully inscribing them in the notebooks she knew Clark had passed out to any scout who would take them. At least someone would get something from this. It would have to be enough.

The crowd gradually dispersed. Charles walked over to them as the others left, some in groups as they compared notes, and others trickling off alone.

“Thanks, Shea. I don’t know what I would have done without you here,” he said, his gait stiff as he limped over to them. It was enough to ensure he was unable to become a soldier or join any other combat positions. He was smart, though. Smarter than most. His intellect should have guaranteed him a spot in the upper echelons, but his leg kept him back.

“Does that happen often?” Braden asked. If he thought less of Charles because of his physical ailment, he didn’t show it.

“The scouts and soldiers from Wind Division don’t usually challenge me like that. We’re having more problems when some from other divisions join in a class. Most are respectful, but a few feel the need to throw their weight around. Soldiers from Ember and Lion seem to be the worst.”

“Which clan and division was that man from?” Shea asked.

“Rain clan, Tempest division.”

Hm. That was good to know. She thought the patches on the men from the sleeper vine incident were similar to that of the stranger’s.

“That does not surprise me,” Trenton said. “Rain took a lot