Rovers

Chapter 3

I hate being here, I think to myself.

Outside, there are no walls to protect us.

Out here, we protect ourselves.

Christian runs back inside to retrieve the horses. A few moments later, he returns with them, leaving the ten of us to figure out how to share them

We’ll have to share,” he says, looking over the group. “Samantha and Kelsea can take their own horses. The rest of us will ride double.”

Samantha and I climb onto our own horses while Christian pairs up with one of the others.

“Let’s ride,” Christian says.

And just like that, we leave the safety of the walls behind.

Hours pass beneath the scorching sun as we ride aimlessly through the ruins. The heat presses against my skin, and the dry earth stretches endlessly in every direction.

I notice something different about the people riding with us.

They’re excited.

For some of them, this is the first time they’ve been beyond the gates in years. They stare at everything the collapsed buildings, the cracked roads, the trees that have been left to grow wild as though they’re seeing the world for the first time.

Then something flashes through the dry grass.

“An animal!” I shout, sitting straighter in my saddle. “It must be an animal!”

“There!” someone calls.

I urge my horse forward before Christian can stop me.

“Oh, there it is!”

I ride faster, my eyes fixed on the small shape darting through the scrub.

Christian chuckles somewhere behind me.

“This is Kelsea’s favorite part,” he calls. “Getting food.”

I follow the creature until it disappears behind a patch of dry brush.

I slow my horse and stare.

Then I see it.

“Oh…”

It isn’t a deer.

It’s a puppy.

“A baby,” I whisper.

The others catch up, their horses slowing around me.

Samantha looks at the tiny creature cautiously.

“Is it… safe?”

The puppy sits in a patch of dry scrub, its dusty coat clinging to its small frame. It tilts its head at us, watching with enormous, curious eyes.

It doesn’t run.

It doesn’t seem afraid of the horses or the people surrounding it.

Maybe it has never known anything else.

Maybe it was born after the fall, when the world had already changed.

“It’s just a pup,” I say.

Before Christian can object, I swing my leg over the saddle and climb down.

The scorched earth crunches beneath my boots as I approach.

I reach into my pouch and pull out a small strip of dried meat.

Dropping to one knee, I hold it out.

The puppy sniffs my fingers.

Then it snatches the meat and devours it.

Christian pulls his horse to a stop beside me. His eyes sweep across the empty horizon, his hand instinctively resting near his holster.

“Kelsea, we don’t have enough rations to feed another mouth,” he says. “And a dog could bark. It could draw attention.”

I glance at him.

“Look at it, Christian.”

The puppy finishes the meat and looks up at me, its tail giving the smallest wag.

“It’s surviving out here on its own. Just like us.”

“We aren’t on our own anymore,” Samantha says quietly from her saddle.

I look back at her.

She nods toward the distant silhouette of the gates.

“We have each other.”

The puppy licks my dust-covered fingers.

Something inside me softens.

Before I can think twice, I scoop the tiny creature into my arms and tuck it inside the front of my jacket.

It immediately curls against me, seeking warmth.

Christian stares at me.

“Kelsea…”

“It comes with us.”

He sighs.

“If it barks, you’re dealing with it.”

“I will.”

“And you’re giving up half your meat rations.”

I smile.

“Deal.”

For a moment, Christian simply looks at me.

Then the corner of his mouth lifts into a faint, reluctant smile.

“Fine.”

He turns toward the others, raising his voice.

“Alright, clear your eyes! We still have miles to cover before nightfall. Let’s move!”

Everyone begins settling back onto their horses.

I climb into my saddle, keeping one hand protectively against my jacket.

The puppy is still curled against my chest.

For the first time since we left the walls, I smile.

Then we kick our horses into a steady trot.

The gates grow smaller behind us.

And we ride deeper into the unknown

Screech!

A jagged, unnatural howl pierced the evening calm, echoing off the valley walls.

Every head snapped toward the tree line.

The newcomers gasped in unison, huddling tightly on their mounts as their eyes widened with terror. The last traces of orange light disappeared behind the jagged ridge, and darkness fell like a dropped curtain.

“Keep moving,” Christian called, his voice a steady, low rasp against the rising panic. “We need to get somewhere we can lay low before night fully sets. Somewhere the canopy is dense enough to hide us—somewhere those things won’t track our scent.”

“We won’t survive out in the open,” one of the younger riders stammered, his knuckles white around the reins. “If they catch our trail—”

“They won’t.”

Christian reached over and patted his horse’s neck, keeping the animal from bolting.

“We have the bitter-root. As long as we find cover, the herbs will mask our scent.”

We pushed the horses harder, riding for several more punishing kilometers through winding trails and overgrown brush.

Then a jagged opening appeared in the hillside.

A small, hidden tunnel.

Thick roots hung over its entrance, tangled with dense foliage that made it almost invisible from the main trail.

Christian slowed his horse.

“This will do.”

He slid from his saddle and crouched at the mouth of the tunnel. Pressing his bare palm into the damp earth, he lifted a handful of soil and brought it to his nose, crumbling it between his fingers.

“The earth is rich,” he murmured. “No ash. No rot.”

His eyes swept across the darkness inside.

“Those creatures haven’t been near this hollow in a long time.”

He stood.

“Get inside. Tie the horses and prepare the herbs. We make camp here.”

The damp air inside the tunnel smelled of moss and deep, undisturbed earth.

Behind us, the towering ancient trees swayed in the rising night wind, their branches rustling like a thousand whispered warnings.

The horses shifted nervously, their hooves clattering against the loose pebbles near the entrance. Their breath appeared in faint white wisps as the temperature dropped with the setting sun.

“Get them inside. Quickly,” Christian instructed, his voice low and firm as he patted his horse’s neck. “Tie them to the thick roots near the back. Keep them quiet.”

The newcomers scrambled to obey.

Their hands trembled so badly that some struggled to knot the reins properly. Every distant snap of a twig made them flinch, their terrified eyes darting toward the dark forest outside.

Christian didn’t wait for them to settle.

He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a heavy leather pouch stuffed with dried herbs.

The sharp, pungent aroma of bruised bitter-root and dried ash-leaf immediately filled the narrow tunnel, cutting through the damp chill.

“Break it up,” he ordered, tossing a handful toward me. “Crush the leaves into a powder. Line the entrance with it. Smear the sap along the horses’ hooves and our boots.”

He glanced toward the entrance.

“If one of those things wanders within a hundred yards, this scent should make the air smell dead to them.”

I got to work immediately.

I ground the herbs between two flat stones until the pungent oils coated my fingers. Around us, everyone moved quickly, desperate to finish before darkness completely swallowed the forest.

Then

Screech!

The sound came again.

Closer this time.

A jagged, unnatural howl tore through the valley, echoing between the trees.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

Inside the tunnel, the newcomers froze.

“Don’t stop moving,” I hissed, throwing a handful of crushed green powder across the stone threshold.

They stared at me.

“Cover your gear and sit down.”

I looked toward the entrance.

Outside, the forest had disappeared into darkness.

“Darkness is on our side now.”

I lowered my voice.

“As long as we stay still.”