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I want to bring this news so they will stay to defend us.”
    â€œWhen will they go?” I ask.
    â€œWhen the season of rain has passed, they will set out.”
    I think about how much time this leaves us. The balsamroot I’ve been collecting is only small shoots yet; it flowers once the rains have passed. And other summer plants I collect have not yet begun to grow. The Thaw, the rains, will be over in a couple of weeks, perhaps a bit longer.
    â€œYou say it will take us a week to reach your home?”
    She nods. “I believe so.”
    This makes me feel better. Still, I wonder. “When you found our settlement, you had been looking for us all summer.”
    â€œWe did not know where to look,” she says. “Our path was . . . circular. The journey home will be much more direct.”
    Direct
. Those settlements to the west and south Henderson talked about.
    â€œHenderson said those newcomers are doing fine. How can that be?”
    She spreads her hands. “I do not know. I suspect they have not encountered the sickness yet. Perhaps luck is on their side.”
    â€œLike it was for us,” I murmur, but my thoughts race on ahead. If Matisa’s people can’t be sure which waters harbor this sickness—the Bleed—can they be sure it still exists? Or, worse, suppose our luck runs out. Suppose the sickness finally does come to this river? Kane’s family. Tom’s. I can’t leave, knowing they don’t have the remedy. Knowing how close they might be to disaster.
    Matisa notices my alarm. She puts a hand on my arm. “It was more than luck that your people survived,” she says.
    I frown in confusion.
    She hesitates. “If I tell you how I know this, you must never forget how valuable this information is. It is not for everyone to know: I tell you this. Only you.”
    â€œBut what about Kane?”
    â€œIt is better not to know. Not knowing means you cannot tell.”
    â€œBut Kane would never—”
    â€œWhether or not he would, you have to believe me when I say that it is safer this way.” Her face is pained. It’s costing her something to share this with me.
    What would her people do if they knew? Is it fair to ask her to break her oath twice over? I take a deep breath. “If it will keep him safe, I can keep it to myself.” But unbidden, an image of Brother Stockham swims before my eyes.
You have lifted the burden
, he said, before he put that shotgun in his mouth . . .
    â€œThis settlement has always had the remedy,” she says.
    I draw back in shock.
    â€œLong ago we observed that animals who consumed a particular plant were not falling sick. We adopted this plant into our diet. It is a plant that grows near your settlement—and as I learned over the winterkill, it is used here nearly every day.”
    My eyes widen. “Almighty,” I murmur. After all of these years living in terror of an imaginary beast, we’ve been protected from a danger that was actually real. By a plant.
    I bow my head and rack my brain for which plant she could mean. One we use continually. Might even be one I collected for Soeur Manon . . . the smell of the Healing House, always thick with sage smoke.
    I look up at her.
    Her gaze is serious. “Your people are safe here,” she says.
    It is better not to know
.
    â€œAll right.” The unease in my belly remains.
    â€œWe will take the remedy as we journey,” she says. “If”—she hesitates—“if you still wish to come.”
    â€œCourse I’m coming,” I say, and as I do I remember my dream from this morning—her dying on the Watch flats and me burying her—and a chill wraps around my heart. It’s the first time I have dreamt of death. The rest of my dreams, the ones that show life, are about Matisa’s home.
    Mayhap this death dream was urging me to leave this place; mayhap it was showing me what