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askthelookoutThey rode for several hours. It was slow going, and after the initial wash of activity when they parted, the little ka-tet fell into an uneasy silence, the sort that resisted any attempt to break it. Roland rode at the head of the posse, his face settled back into stiff, unyielding lines, his back straight and his shoulders back, like a statue carved in flesh.
Cuthbert, for his part, rode at the back of the group, acting as rearguard. The smile he'd worn earlier seemed to ebb away with every step they took, and by the time they were out of sight of Gilead, he was as stonily silent as his dinh, looking around at the ruined landscape they rode through, his dark eyes sharp and alert. He didn't speak to Kaine, or to anyone.
When the sun began to go down, Roland called a halt, raising one hand and reining in his horse. "This is the best shelter we're like to fine. Bert, Will, set up camp. Alfred, you'll take first watch. Wake James at midnight. Percival, Jacob, food and water are yours. I'll see to the horses."
With little more than a few words to each other, the gunslingers set about their assigned tasks with the brisk efficiency of long practice. The silence lasted a half-hour more, and then, as they settled in around the little fire with a pot of thin stew starting to bubble, some thin attempts at conversation began. A tobacco pouch was passed, then a half-empty flask of graf, and Bert came to sit beside Kaine as he rolled a smoke.
"How're you holding together?" he asked her, with a sidelong little smile, and proffered the tobacco.
Cuthbert, for his part, rode at the back of the group, acting as rearguard. The smile he'd worn earlier seemed to ebb away with every step they took, and by the time they were out of sight of Gilead, he was as stonily silent as his dinh, looking around at the ruined landscape they rode through, his dark eyes sharp and alert. He didn't speak to Kaine, or to anyone.
When the sun began to go down, Roland called a halt, raising one hand and reining in his horse. "This is the best shelter we're like to fine. Bert, Will, set up camp. Alfred, you'll take first watch. Wake James at midnight. Percival, Jacob, food and water are yours. I'll see to the horses."
With little more than a few words to each other, the gunslingers set about their assigned tasks with the brisk efficiency of long practice. The silence lasted a half-hour more, and then, as they settled in around the little fire with a pot of thin stew starting to bubble, some thin attempts at conversation began. A tobacco pouch was passed, then a half-empty flask of graf, and Bert came to sit beside Kaine as he rolled a smoke.
"How're you holding together?" he asked her, with a sidelong little smile, and proffered the tobacco.
