First Steps into Dust

The morning sky was pale and colorless, like breath fogged against glass. Thea's boots scraped lightly against the frost-laced ground, every step a farewell. Her fingers curled around the letter tucked inside her inner coat pocket, its presence both a burden and a guidepost.

She hadn't looked back at the house.

Not when Meghan pressed a wrapped bundle of food into her hands.Not when the door opened with the faintest creak.Not even when her mother placed a kiss on her forehead—so quick, so quiet it might have been a breeze.

If she looked back, she wouldn't be able to walk away. And walking away was the only thing that mattered now.

She was Tallen.

The narrow alley behind the house smelled faintly of smoke and wet leaves. It led out into the half-woken town, where carts clattered in the distance and shutters opened one by one like blinking eyes. Thea kept her shoulders hunched and her steps uneven, the way she had been taught. She rubbed a bit of soot across her cheek and lowered her eyes.

Beric waited at the corner of the butcher's lane.

His arms were crossed, his thick frame like a boulder in the mist. Beside him stood another boy—older than Thea by a few years, wiry and hollow-eyed, with shaggy dark hair and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. A pack slung over his shoulder and a half-peeled apple in his hand.

"This him?" the boy asked, voice rough with sleep.

Beric grunted. "Apprentice. Goes by Tallen. Mute."

The boy snorted and looked Thea up and down. "Doesn't look like he could carry a bucket without falling in."

Thea didn't react. She remembered Meghan's words: Mute boys don't bristle. They endure.

Beric turned and started walking. "Then he better learn fast."

Thea followed, her footsteps small behind his long stride. The apprentice trailed beside her, occasionally glancing over, as if trying to decide what kind of trouble she might be.

They said nothing as they passed the bakery, the scent of burnt crust and morning fire curling in the air. Thea's stomach tightened—she hadn't eaten since the night before. But she didn't reach for the bread Meghan had given her. That hunger was part of Tallen now. A boy too cautious, too poor to eat until told.

The streets grew quieter as they wound toward the south edge of town. The stone gave way to packed dirt, then to gravel near the old tannery, where crows picked at discarded scraps. No one paid them much attention—just another trader and his boys heading out early.

The caravan was parked behind a crumbling storehouse where moss grew thick between the stones. Two wagons, both patched and stained from years on the road, stood hitched to a pair of mules. One wagon was half-covered with a tarp; the other bore crates tied down with fraying rope. Everything smelled of salt, old leather, and dust.

Beric climbed into the driver's seat with a grunt. "Pack's behind the second cart," he muttered. "Find room. And don't touch anything that's not yours."

The apprentice leaned toward her. "Name's Kel. You stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours." His grin was lazy, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Thea nodded, throat dry.

Kel gave a half-shrug. "Didn't think mute boys had much to say anyway."

She climbed into the wagon bed and nestled between two sacks of dried lentils and a crate marked with black ink. The wood was cold against her back, and the chill seeped through her clothes. She kept her head low, eyes half-closed, watching.

Beric barked orders at the stable hand. The mule snorted. Kel chewed his apple core until it was just seeds and spit it into the grass.

Everything about this world was harsher, leaner, louder than the one she had left behind. No velvet chairs, no scented oils, no quiet afternoons with old books. Out here, everything moved fast or got trampled.

Beric checked the straps one final time and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes locked with Thea's, sharp and impatient.

"You slow us down," he said, voice flat, "I leave you behind. Understood?"

Thea nodded.

Kel laughed under his breath. "Looks like the boy's got ears at least."

Beric turned his gaze back to the road. "We leave at dusk. Until then, don't be seen. And don't talk to anyone."

Thea settled back into the shadows of the cart. For hours, they waited. Travelers passed nearby, a few curious townsfolk peeked around corners, but none approached. They were just another set of traders moving goods. The illusion was perfect.

She watched the sun rise slow, golden fingers brushing the treetops beyond the wall. Then afternoon crept in, long and sleepy. Kel dozed off on a bundle of rope. Beric sat sharpening a knife by the firepit he built in a small circle of stones, his hands precise.

Thea sat in silence, listening to the wind move through the dry reeds. Every sound made her flinch—hoofbeats, doors slamming, a hawker's call in the distance. Her mind kept turning back to Meghan. Was she safe? Had anyone discovered Thea missing yet?

But the moment of return was gone. The choice had been made. There was only forward.

Dusk finally began to fall, the sky melting into hues of rust and ash. Beric stood and motioned toward the cart.

"Get inside," he said. "You ride between the crates. Don't speak. Don't look."

Thea obeyed, slipping behind the burlap sacks, pressing her body small and silent. The wagon groaned as Kel climbed in beside her, yawning.

Beric took the reins, and with a low command, the caravan began to move.

As the wheels rolled forward and the town slowly receded behind them, Thea felt her heart lurch. The gates loomed ahead, guards stationed lazily at either side, barely alert.

She held her breath as they approached.

"Evenin'," one guard called lazily.

Beric raised a hand in greeting. "Same route, same cargo."

The guard nodded without checking. "Safe travels."

The gate opened with a groan. The caravan passed through.

Just like that, Thea was outside.

Outside the walls she had never crossed.Outside the name she had always carried.Outside the girl she used to be.

The wind hit her face, sharp with the scent of pines and cold stone.

She exhaled slowly, steadying her heartbeat but everything's not over now.

Republic's red-flagged troops had seized the main thoroughfare weeks ago. They didn't bother disguising their presence anymore—sentries stood openly now, armored and grim, faces like stone. They checked every wagon that passed. Asked questions looking for her and her mother openly.

That was the final line Thea had to cross now.