Old Number Roads of the Illinoy and Yowa

Map of Old Number Roads of the Illinoy and Yowa, parchment reproduction by Raskesh Halfsilver from pre-Bust papermap

Five: Two Nights Under One Roof

It was splendid to sleep indoors for a change. Their fire heated that old creetrock building right up, and Laura slept warm and cozy . . . .

Eight: Across the Big River

“Yes, I reckon this is it,” said Pa, as he carefully rolled the map back up. It was not what Laura expected. . . .

Nine: Iron Boxes

Pa left the handcar down by the riverbank. Then he climbed up to join them beside the earthen mound surrounded by birch trees where Ma had chosen to wait. . . .

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. . . .

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. . . .

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. . . .

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. . . .

Twenty: The Ghost City of Damoyne

Laura’s teeth rattled as the bisox wagon clattered over a rough patch of creetrock. The rest of the convoy, following in her wake, became a jittering blur. Beside her, Mary held Baby Grace against her chest. . . .