Roger's Blade

The gate sergeant presents Albany’s sealed papers beneath the guardroom lamp. Beside him, the mounted dispatch rider measures flour, powder, dried meat, and blankets into a scant travel allotment.

The rider knots the flour sack and sets the powder apart from the food. Phillips checks each bundle, while Otsí:io waits near the gate with the party’s salvaged belongings.

The sergeant breaks the seal only enough to show the direction, then folds the paper back beneath its stamped cover. Outside, the town prepares to open its gates.

William’s injured arm shifts beneath the torn sleeve, and the wound flares hot. Phillips remains beside him, Otsí:io accompanies them, and the sergeant stays behind as the gate chains begin to lift.

The gate sergeant glances at the torn sleeve, then toward the scant stores. Phillips pauses over the provisions, while Otsí:io watches from beside the gate.

Phillips opens a blanket roll and finds only coarse fabric, its edges frayed from use. He tears a narrow strip free, but the rough cloth offers no salve or proper cleansing.

The makeshift strip is all they can provide. Phillips folds it into William’s hand, leaving the wound without proper care until Albany, while the gate chains rise outside.

Phillips turns from the provisions and studies the torn sleeve. He opens the blanket roll, searching beneath the coarse wool while Otsí:io keeps watch at the gate.

Phillips tears a narrow strip from the blanket and folds it over the wound. The rough fabric stings briefly, then steadies the torn sleeve against William’s arm.

The gate chains finish lifting. The sergeant signals the road ahead, while Phillips secures the remaining provisions and Otsí:io gathers the salvaged bundle.

Phillips gives William’s shoulder a brief, steadying clasp, then turns toward the open gate. Morning light spills across the road beyond Schenectady’s walls.

Otsí:io lifts the salvaged bundle and follows Phillips toward the gate, while the mounted rider gathers his reins beside the waiting bay horse.

With the sealed papers dry beneath the blankets and the scant provisions secured, the party passes through the lifted gate and takes the road east toward Albany.

The road east runs between wet fields and dark stands of pine. William moves lightly over a fallen rail, keeping his injured arm close while the party’s bundles remain dry and secure.

Beyond the rail, William spots narrow wheel marks leaving the main road and joining a firmer ridge through the trees. The track is old, but its packed earth promises a quicker passage around the flooded low ground.

Phillips tests the ridge with his moccasin, then signals the turn. The party leaves the rutted road, saving time and keeping powder, flour, and blankets clear of the standing water.

The party follows the firmer ridge beneath dripping pines. Phillips leads with the sealed papers protected under his coat, while Otsí:io watches the woods and William studies each bend ahead.

Phillips pauses beside a shallow rut and crouches, touching its edge without disturbing it. Otsí:io circles a few paces outward, reading the tree line rather than the road.

The hollow opens beneath the pines, its wet floor marked by broken fern stems. Phillips signals the crossing, and the party moves in order, keeping the powder high and the road within sight.

William follows Phillips’s signal into the hollow, stepping from root to root while keeping the powder high. His boot skids on wet needles, and his knee strikes a buried branch hard enough to bruise it.

He catches himself against a pine, steadies the bundles, and completes the crossing without wetting the flour or powder. The sharp jolt leaves him limping for several steps, but he reaches the firmer ground beyond.

Phillips turns back only long enough to inspect William’s footing and the tied provisions. Otsí:io reaches the ridge beside them, his gaze sweeping the wet trees.