At the first fork there were three paths. Out of habit, Chris went ahead to the sign. Christiana caught up and called him back.
“You can tell us what you remember,” she said. “But you needn’t be the one responsible for choosing.”
Chris took out his map and pointed to the mountain path in the middle. Great-heart checked the sign and asked an approaching grain carrier about the road after the rain. Only then did he lead them onward. Chris put his map away slowly, as though he had been allowed to set down something he thought he must always hold.
Near a stream, Christiana heard her husband ask Great-heart, “If people are still in the city, does it mean we haven’t done enough?”
She had been wondering the same thing. The woman next door, who loved singing, had not come. As they left, she had said the family would soon creep back in shame. Christiana had been angry. But at night she thought of the woman’s window and wondered whether it would still open.
Great-heart showed them the grain carrier’s records. Letters were still going to places the helpers could reach, and people were still giving directions outside the city. But some ground in the old neighborhoods was no longer safe. No child should be sent back there.
“We can keep sending news, welcome those willing to come, and pray for those who stay,” he said. “But you cannot believe for someone else. Nor can you risk your family’s lives to prove that your repentance is real enough.”
At the words “your family’s lives,” Christiana glanced at her son. Chris was wiping his shoes beside the water. His sister held a short blade of grass and was showing him how an insect crawled backward along it. Neither child was studying a map.
Christiana wrote her neighbor’s name. She carefully explained where they were and where travelers could find help. She did not end with “You must listen to me.” Instead she wrote: I was unwilling to listen too. If you wish to leave, we will help you find the way.
The carrier promised to pass the letter to the helpers outside the city. Christiana watched him go. She was still sad. She told the Lord about her sadness instead of asking her son to promise that her neighbor would be safe.
When they set out again, Great-heart led the way. Her husband watched the luggage at the back. Chris and his sister walked in the middle. Christiana counted everyone, then noticed Mercy waiting to steady her waterskin.
She handed it over. Her free hand could rest gently on her daughter’s head.