Tributary (River of Time 3.2 Novella) by Lisa T. Bergren Page B

thought to go to the wall and distract Patrizio or whoever else had it in their head to watch me. I pretended to have spotted a rabbit and pulled my bow from my shoulder. But as soon as I was hidden from view, I found a place to double-back and hit the path that Alessandra had taken.
    It was fairly easy for a while, finding clues of her path. It’d rained a couple days ago, softening the ground. And she was obviously moving fast. A turned rock here. A broken branch there. Maybe I’m learning how to track , I congratulated myself. But as I got farther away, it became less obvious. And I began to wonder if she had even come this way at all.
    I had to make better time. If I got too close to the border and an enemy patrol saw me…well, let’s just say Alessandra wouldn’t be the biggest issue. What would Gabi do?
    She’d ditch the stupid saddle.
    In under a minute I’d stepped up onto the boulder and swung my leg across, bareback now. Free to ride at a gallop like my stubborn, willful sister would do, if she were here. And, you know, unpregnant. Here we go , I told myself. I am a She-Wolf of Siena.
    Part of me exhilarated in the sense of freedom and adventure. The chance to save our people from certain trauma.
    The other part of me screamed that I was heading into big, big trouble.
     
    ***
     
    Alessandra paused on the hill, listening to the forest, the sudden loss of chatter among the birds. Her eyes scanned the horizon. A quarter-mile distant, she saw ten birds abruptly rise, as if startled. Was somebody following her? She could just glimpse a corner of Castello Forelli in the distance. Castello Paratore—now Castello Greco—was closer, and quiet too. Her eyes scanned the wall, watching as bored guards made their rounds. If Castello Forelli raised an alarm, there’d be an entirely different feel here. Somehow, she was as yet undiscovered.
    Or was she? Her eyes returned to the birds as they flew off, settling on another tree. She edged through a boulder field, hovering in the shadows, not wishing to catch the Castello Greco guards’ eyes. Once under the trees again, she resumed her run. She had to get to the border. From there, she’d only be an hour’s walk from home.
    It must be close , she told herself, panting as she ran in a slightly lurching fashion. She could usually run for hours. Often did, hunting, preferring the quiet. But the squeeze through the window had strained a long muscle across her back that hurt every time she moved, and in the frightening drop outside the castle wall, she’d twisted her left ankle. Both were slowing her down.
    She studied the bit of forest where the birds had risen, wishing she had her horse now. But she wouldn’t have been allowed through the gates on her two feet, let alone on horseback. And now her path had been chosen. She just needed to get across it, to safety. To home. To her people.
     
    ***
     
    It caught Luca’s attention immediately. The patrol riding into the building site, in half the number he’d sent out. He dropped the parchment to the table and strode toward them, leaving the foreman sputtering behind him, shocked at his rude departure. But Luca’s eyes were on Vanni, the leader of the patrol.
    “Three Fiorentini contingents on the border, sir,” he said, dismounting. Luca took his arm in greeting, but frowned over his words.
    “So Donatelli went to them. Reported his daughter is here.”
    “It appears that way, sir.”
    “You left the others to keep an eye on them?”
    “Indeed. They’re at the old watchtower.”
    Luca looked to the trees, considering. The old watchtower stood in crumbling remains at the old border—a border they’d reestablished last year when they pushed Firenze back. Three contingents. A hundred and fifty men.
    Lord Greco approached, casting him a look asking silent permission to listen in. Luca waved him in closer. “The Fiorentini,” Luca said. “They’ve assembled as we feared. On the border.”
    Rodolfo’s dark eyes