The wait for the crow was agonizing. Sasha was so tempted to burst from the woods and take off down the road that she had to force herself away from the treeline entirely. She leaned her back against a tree and wrapped her arms around her torso. 

She was far away enough now that she couldn't make out the village anymore, just rows upon rows of green and trees. Which was the other reason she'd slinked into the woods the minute she thought there wasn't anyone watching. Of course, now she wasn't sure where she was, let alone how to get back to a usable path, and the stupid crow was gone.

She sucked a breath into her lungs. She would be okay. Her hand reached for the hilt of her sword, and she ran her thumb across it before remembering that it wasn't hers. They'd probably sell her off, too, if they found her when she tried to get back through the village and onto the roadways. 

Sasha breathed as slowly as she could out her nose. It tickled the hair hanging in front of her face, and she moved it out of the way with her hand. The crow would come back. There were no other options otherwise. Sasha shut her eyes and tried to calm the racing of her heart. She concentrated on the smell of the earth and the noises of the birds, flitting through the treetops. For a moment she imagined she was home still, and none of this had ever happened.

He'd hated her, when they'd first met, and she didn't blame him. She remembered when he'd first come out of the woods, bewildered and obviously lost despite the sign for what he was looking for hanging not a hundred yards away. She hadn't even been trying to annoy him, not at first anyway. She'd been trying to get him to like her. 

For some reason she'd tricked herself into thinking it had worked. It stung more than she initially thought it would to learn that it hadn't. The taste of rejection still lingered. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She slouched a little lower under the tree and closed her eyes even tighter.

At least before she wasn't alone, fighting a war against nothing, by herself. Though she didn't know if she could bring herself to even look at him, now. They'd have to part ways. The thought brought a fresh wave of pain, and Sasha let out another shaky breath. She would not cry over a boy. She'd never stooped that low and she didn't intend to now, either.

You are still feeling sorry for yourself.

Sasha jumped, then yelped as her head collided with a tree branch. Her head whipped around as the crow burst from the trees and landed on a nearby branch, blinked its eyes, and fixed her with its unnerving stare.

"I have a right to," she replied, failing to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. She picked at a leaf lying nearby, then crumpled it in her fist. It crumpled into brown dust and left her palms streaked with wet. She scowled and folded her arms across her knees again.

Does wallowing help your kind to feel better? The crow tilted its head to the side, like a puppy that had just heard a sheep whistle for the first time. Sasha didn't know which was worse: if the question was sarcastic, or if the crow didn't know what that was and had intended the question completely seriously. She decided on the first and didn't answer.

I do not understand. Why do you not simply leave if the boy upset you?

Sasha laughed, but it wasn't funny. Her eyes were hard, and they burned around the edges. "Of course you don't." Anger welled in her throat and threatened to escape in a noise that felt entirely too much like a sob. 

Crows find another when their companions die.

"That's nice," Sasha ground out. Rannok was not a companion, and he would not die. She didn't care if he never wanted to see her again. "But Rannok isn't a crow."

He has the blood of one.

Sasha's jaw twitched. "Do you know where they took him, or not?" She unfolded her arms and stood, the tension too much for her to keep sitting anymore. White rage bubbled up through her neck and out her mouth with every word. He was not a crow. He was not a companion. But she owed him her life. She would not leave him to that woman because her feelings made it inconvenient. 

Yes. The crow preened at its feathers, idly watching her as the muscles in her forearms jumped and her face twisted into a scowl. She could kill the creature for treating this as if it were a game.

"Are you going to tell me?" 

Is anger easier to bear than sadness? It blinked at her as it pulled its beak from the feathers on its back. At once her fury deflated and she was left with nothing but a mild annoyance that itched like the crow's consciousness pressing in on her own. 

"Telling me where Rannok is instead of teasing me with it is easier to bear than either," she said. It was surprisingly easy not to respond to the crow now that she knew what it was doing. It was trying to needle her, though for what purpose she couldn't say. It had at least gotten her moving. 

Is that why you did the same to the boy?

Sasha's face grew hot, and she looked away from the creature, back into the treeline. A lump rose in her throat. She forced it back down and tried not to think of all the reasons she'd annoyed him on purpose. At the time it had seemed funny.

"Please. Just take me to him." Her voice sounded creaky coming out of her throat, and she willed it to still. She would not cry. She was above crying over this. She'd already promised herself that.

Very well, the crow replied, hopping down from the branch, then waddling over to a spot in front of her before springing into a tree. They are waiting for a ship that comes tomorrow. We will hurry.

Sasha thought for a moment about thanking the crow, but kept her mouth shut as she followed it through the underbrush. He didn't deserve her thanks.