Ten: Yowa Country

The days that followed were warm. Laura didn’t need to wear her mittens or her wool cap any more. A few days later, when they stopped for a midday rest on a bluff overlooking a densely forested river valley, Ma let Laura unlace her traveling cloak. . . .

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Eleven: Tobias Goatherd

Laura couldn’t sort out at first where her memories ended and where the dreams began. She remembered something stalking her. She could still feel it, icy on her skin, the terror of being treed by some unseen predator. . . .

Twelve: Happy Valley Orchards Restup and Reptilsoo

By the time Laura opened her eyes, morning had crept into the room. She sat up and worked her fingers through her hair. There, towards the back of her skull, she could feel a bump. It felt sore but only when Laura touched it. . . .

Thirteen: The Herald’s Shrine

Pa and Tobias Goatherd returned from the creek around midday. By then, Mary and Laura had recovered from their experience inside that eerie old building called the reptilsoo, and Laura felt a little foolish for getting so frightened of a silly old skull. . . .

Fourteen: Jimapples

Laura stood on the tips of her toes, straining to reach her paintbrush just as high as it would go. Everywhere her brush swished and dabbed, the monster’s creetrock skin glowed like new, protecting the ancient beast from wind and rain and sun. . . .

Fifteen: Carrying On

“It’s time for us to go,” Pa said when he found them there.

Laura lay cradled in Ma’s lap, beneath the shade of an apple tree. Mary and Baby Grace huddled close beside. Somewhere up above them, birds chirped. . .

Sixteen: The Great Eighty Road

The men had wanted silver. That seemed to be the short of it. The answer hadn’t felt especially satisfying to Laura when Pa had tried to lay it out for her the night before, and, when she awoke the next morning, her questions seemed to have only grown as she slept, like seedlings sprouting new shoots in the moist night air. . . .

Seventeen: Hawkeye Crossing

The inside of the assistant supervisor’s office was as much a jumble as the outside. The floor was bare creetrock. It was discolored but clean. . . .

Eighteen: The Ferry

The convoy left at dawn, just as Captain Syed said it would. By the time Laura and her family joined the others around the cold pit of charcoal that had held the previous night’s fire, the big wagon was already hitched to the two bisox. . . .