Chapter 103 – The River's Edge
The night air was knife-cold, biting through wool and leather alike. Kairo kept his pace deliberate, each step crunching on frozen earth. Behind him, Elira's breathing was steady, though the way she held her shoulders told him she was fighting the chill as much as the weight of what lay ahead.
The stranger's words from the village clung to the back of Kairo's mind like frost on glass.
Feretti has put a price on your head. Alive, preferably.
That "preferably" was nothing but a politeness for the benefit of middlemen. In truth, Feretti wouldn't hesitate to have him shot if the window to capture him closed.
They moved through a stand of pines, the moonlight cutting pale ribbons through the branches. The snow was lighter here, but the silence was heavier. Every sound seemed to carry—bootsteps, the shift of a pack strap, the creak of leather.
"Elira," Kairo murmured without turning, "step in my prints."
She obeyed without question, her smaller boots fitting neatly into the depressions he left in the snow. It wasn't just to save her effort—he was minimizing the trail. The two sets of prints would look like one.
"Do you think he'll follow?" she asked, her voice low.
"He'll follow until it's useful for him to stop. Men like that aren't loyal to people, they're loyal to the outcome that benefits them most."
"That sounds like you don't plan to let him live long enough to decide."
Kairo didn't answer immediately. A faint smile curved his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "We'll see how valuable he makes himself before morning."
The ground sloped downward, the trees thinning until the sharp scent of running water reached them. The river was near—Kairo could hear it now, muffled but steady, like distant applause.
They stopped at the tree line. Beyond lay a stretch of open bank, the river's surface dark and fast under the moonlight. On the far side, the terrain rose sharply into rocky hills. No bridge. No ford.
"This wasn't on the map," Elira murmured.
"That's because most maps are made for people who plan to survive the journey." He crouched, scanning the bank for signs of recent crossing—broken ice, dragged branches, footprints. Nothing. Either no one had crossed here in weeks… or those who did hadn't come back to tell about it.
She came to stand beside him, pulling her scarf tighter. "You're thinking about swimming?"
His eyes flicked to her, just briefly. "Not both of us. The current's too strong."
Her stomach knotted. "Then how—?"
But before she could finish, his hand lifted slightly—silence.
Somewhere upstream, branches cracked. Not like the delicate snaps of small animals; heavier. Multiple. The faint murmur of voices followed, distorted by the wind but unmistakable.
"They're closer than I thought," he muttered.
He scanned the far bank again, mind working like a lock being picked. "We cross now. It's the one thing they won't expect."
Her brows drew together. "Because it's insane?"
"Because it's insane," he confirmed with the ghost of a smirk. "We move fast enough, the cold won't kill us before we're out. Slow, and it's over."
Without another word, he shrugged out of his coat, stuffing it into his pack to keep it dry. She stared at him for half a second before doing the same, her breath visible in sharp clouds.
"You first," he said, stepping into the shallows. The water swallowed his boots with a hollow gulp.
She hesitated only a moment before following, the shock of the cold a physical blow. It felt like knives against her skin, slicing through her bones. Kairo's hand found hers under the water, a brief squeeze anchoring her as they pushed deeper.
The current fought them immediately, dragging at their legs, turning their steps into lunges. Kairo moved ahead of her, breaking the water's force so she could follow in the slipstream he made. The river roared in her ears, drowning out everything else.
Halfway across, the bottom dropped away entirely. Her feet kicked against nothing. She gasped, the sound swallowed by the night, and Kairo's arm was suddenly around her waist, iron-strong, pulling her through.
By the time they reached the far bank, her limbs felt like they didn't belong to her. Kairo hauled her out first, then dragged himself up after her, both of them collapsing against the frozen earth.
They lay there for a few seconds, steam rising from their clothes. Then Kairo pushed himself up, pulling his coat from the pack and tossing hers to her. "Move. The cold will finish us faster than Feretti's men if we stop."
Her teeth were chattering so hard it took effort to get words out. "How far… to shelter?"
"Farther than we'd like." He offered his hand to help her up. "But there's a ridge ahead with an overhang. We'll make fire there."
They climbed the incline slowly, the frozen ground slick under their boots. Kairo kept scanning the far bank for movement, but no shapes appeared in the moonlight. If Feretti's men found the river, they might assume no one would be desperate—or stupid—enough to cross. That gave them a thin sliver of time.
By the time they reached the overhang, Elira's legs felt like lead. Kairo set her down on a flat rock, then moved quickly to gather dead branches from the treeline. His movements were precise, economical—no wasted motion, no hesitation.
When the fire finally sparked to life, its glow painted his face in sharp lines. Elira watched him quietly, the heat creeping back into her fingers. "You've done this before."
"Cross rivers in winter?" His tone was dry.
"Risk yourself to buy time."
His gaze met hers across the fire. "Time is the only thing you can't steal back. You either take it from others, or you run out of it yourself."
She studied him for a long moment. "And what happens when you run out?"
For the first time that night, his expression softened, though it was fleeting. "Then you stop thinking about survival and start thinking about who you're willing to die for."
The fire cracked between them, sending sparks into the dark. Neither spoke again for a while, but the silence was different now—less the silence of danger, more the silence of something unnamed and growing.
Somewhere far downstream, faint shouts carried on the wind. Feretti's men had found the river.
Kairo didn't look away from the flames. "We move before dawn."