Raey Kubiak

The traveler led the mule by its reins. Behind came a handful of others. Their canteens rattled in the quiet. They came upon three men standing beneath a crooked cedar. Each wore painted masks. They said they knew a hidden canyon path that could cut days off their journey.

“Show us,” the traveler said.

One of the masked men thumped his chest. “I’ve led armies through these parts. I know waterholes that never dry.”

“Then lead,” the traveler said. “We’re short on patience.”

They followed. Dust curled around their feet. But the masked men kept backtracking. At midday they paused at a dry wash. The traveler pressed a canteen to the mule’s mouth. The masked men huddled together, whispered, and pointed east, then west, then east again.

The traveler lowered his head. “You look lost,” he said.

The leader of the masked men shrugged. “Nah,” he said, though his voice wavered. “Terrain’s tricky.”

“It’s not tricky,” said a woman in the traveler’s party, wiping sweat from her brow. “It’s straightforward country if you look close enough.”

“I know the way,” the masked man snapped. “I’ve led better folks than you.” Yet he did not move.

By twilight, they still hadn’t found water. The traveler, lean and quiet, looked at the masked men. “We’re done,” he said. He turned to his small band, with the bare faces and the honest eyes, and nodded once. They started back the way they’d come. One of the masked men cursed after them, his voice cracking in the thin air.

“You’ll die!” another called. He tore at his painted mask, but the paint ran into his eyes. He looked small now, frightened. The traveler didn’t bother to answer. They walked away until the voices faded.

They camped beneath a wide, indifferent sky. In the morning, they followed how the sage grew along the slope and they found a shallow spring behind a tumble of rocks. The mule drank first. The traveler knelt and cupped the water in his hand, tasting grit and coolness. The others followed, silent, grateful.

“Strange how empty it feels now,” said the woman, her voice low.

The traveler nodded. “Empty’s not so bad,” he said. “We have what we need.”

They pressed on, no shortcuts, no hollow boasting, just the sound of boots on stone, and the quiet trust of those who had chosen to partake.