During the mid-afternoon water halt on Day 66, the expedition rested on a broad limestone shelf three miles south of the roadside weighing station.
It was a familiar spot. One of the very stretcher-turning shelves Kezra had marked with yellow chalk during her first outward march on Day 13. There, an overhanging pale limestone ledge provided shade from the glare and a seasonal seep offered cool, stone-rich water.
Fellis Dain sat on an upturned water keg with his field ledger open across his knees. He held a clean piece of tracing thick parchment over Ulvan Dret’s stolen Hushwood road grid.
“Kezra,” Fellis said, looking up with sudden excitement. “Why don’t we copy Ulvan’s grid directly into the blank pages of your bonded notebook? He’s already measured the magnetic bearings, he’s already calculated the quarter-width intervals. He’s marked the old Survey Corps anchor sockets along the timber road. If you ink his map points into your book now, the class can alert us the moment our boots cross into the parcel.”
Kezra sat on a flat limestone block, her boots unlaced to air her blistered heels. Meanwhile, Paxa inspected the skin on her instep. She looked at Fellis with the patient, firm gaze she had learned from Maud.
