Dawn Thompson by Blood Moon

Author:Blood Moon
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The lethargy that always came with the dawn somehow seemed more severe to Cassandra after her dust-up with Jon. Curled on her side in the soft hay in the wagon, like a child in its mother’s womb, she shed her tears in silence. Jon, too, felt the pull of the lethargy. She could see it in his borne-down posture, which cried defeat. Had her words struck a chord; had they meant something to him? Had she driven a wedge between his reason and his stubborn resolve? She stared at his strong, broad back straining the dusty superfine fabric of his greatcoat, longing to reach out and touch him. Would he turn and give her some sign of comfort, some evidence of softening, or would the muscles in that rigid back tense beneath her fingers? She would not test it.

Though the air was cooler in the higher elevations, he hardly needed such a coat. She knew why he wore it. It held his weapons, kept them at his fingertips: the dented flask of holy water, the sacramental oil, and the pistol. Just the thought of the pistol set loose a flurry of shivers racing along her spine. Her body shifted with the motion, but Jon didn’t seem to notice. Neither did Milosh. The repositioning of her slight weight was lost in the swaying of the cart as it meandered south at a leisurely pace over rough gravel that couldn’t quite be called a road for the disuse that had reduced it to a ribbon of slag at the foot of the mountain that, over time, pebbles, rocks, and earth had all but obliterated.

Jon wasn’t as lethargic as she. But then, he was a man, and besides, these things varied among the infected; Milosh had been right about that. He and Jon talked in hushed whispers—light banter and tentative plans for reaching a cave the Gypsy knew of, which she couldn’t imagine being a suitable place to spend the night. What would keep Sebastian out? And didn’t bats frequent caves? It didn’t bode well.

They had nearly reached a bend in the path, a crossroads where Milosh said they must take the north road up yet another mountain peak to settle into the cave he’d spoken of, when the Gypsy reined in his horse and the cart gave a lurch as it rolled to an abrupt stop. Three men and a woman were burying something at the crossroads. They hadn’t seen the cart. Motioning Jon and Cassandra to silence, Milosh jiggled the reins and urged Petra to the side of the path where they could watch unobserved from the trees.

Cassandra sat up and peered over the side of the cart. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s happening there?”

“Shhh!” Milosh warned. Jon reached around and gripped her shoulder. It was the physical contact she’d so longed for since they’d had words earlier. It didn’t matter that it came in the way of censure; his touch was enough. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. She could barely see the scene taking place at the juncture of the roads.

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