Rowan kept the mare still by gently pressing his legs against her sides, but he was painfully aware of how nervous she was. The dirt behind him was still unsettled. There were four piles of fresh soil in the clearing, each one marking a friend who should have still been riding beside him.

The horse tossed her head, annoyed by the delay; patience was not in her nature. Her dark red coat shined in the sun, the color of dried blood, with a single white stripe down her face. She had been given to him as a gift of gratitude—but that word felt wrong. Gratitude suggests a victory, but the burden he carried felt more like a punishment.

He knew he couldn’t keep her for long. She was too noticeable, too beautiful, and far too energetic for a man trying to disappear. Rowan adjusted the straps of his bedroll and checked the weight of the rifle on his back. The town of Briar Hollow was disappearing behind the hills, already becoming just a memory. He had accepted their praise and their handshakes. However, every word felt heavy compared to the terrible truth he was hiding. He took off his hat and pressed it against his chest for a brief moment.

There would be no speeches, and no more apologies whispered to the dead. If there was any forgiveness to be found, it was not here. The moment he loosened the reins, the mare shot forward, moving with such passion it seemed she had waited her whole life for this open land. Rowan let her run at full speed. The wind pressed his shirt against his ribs and dried the tears in his eyes. Dust swirled behind them, blowing across the plains. He kept his eyes strictly forward; the past had to remain buried with the men who had trusted him.

After miles of constant running, he slowed down. Foam speckled her neck, and heat waves blurred the view. The land ahead stretched out endlessly—dry bushes, white rocks, and the shimmering haze of the heat. No one was watching anymore. He guided her toward the faint shine of a stream cutting through the rocky landscape ahead. Survival required being practical, even if his heart wanted to suffer. He looked at her shape as they approached the water. “Pilgrim,” he said softly. “That will be enough.” The name was suitable for both of them. They drank in silence before moving on toward whatever waited beyond the horizon