Great black birds lined the ridge, wings tucked in and large dark eyes scanning the ground below. Their pale bald heads shifted one way and then the other while their curved beaks remained closed. The only times they opened were when they were preening themselves or picking the flesh from a carcass. The latter was common, especially in this section of The Rope. So they watched carefully, the gray sun barely reaching the bottom of the black crevice. The only creatures that walked through it were either made specifically to survive in the trench—like the birds—or unfortunate enough to have been dragged in. How they found themselves this far removed from sanity was another story altogether.
The birds—Black-Eyes, as he called them—caused Nathan very few problems. At times they gathered near or followed him, but they were not aggressive birds. There were other creatures in the trench that filled that role. Over the years, the Black-Eyes had become companions of a sort. They were constantly watching for him and came close at times when he was feeling especially alone—loneliness was something The Rope gave freely, a gift that all who lived in it had no choice but to accept. Even the Black-Eyes, despite their harrowing community, were lonely. Nathan could see it in their eyes, in the empty way they looked at everything. Even when they were gathered together, they weren’t really companions. They were waiting together, waiting for something to die. Once something gave its final breath they would turn on each other if it meant getting one scrap more than the others. Nathan knew that they would consume his corpse just as quickly and emotionlessly when his body finally gave up. But for now, they weren’t his enemies. They were neighbors, other creatures trying to survive in The Rope. The only things he did have to actively worry about were the Red-Eyes, although they rarely wandered this far South. But he tried not to think about them in any way other than something to be cautious about. It wasn’t good to dwell on them.
As a cool breeze entered his cave, Nathan felt morning drag itself through the trench. The Rope had it’s own sun, and it didn’t move. It didn’t break through the clouds either. A constant gray light hung over this slit of the world Nathan now occupied. It was enough to see in and enough to sleep in, and he didn’t ask for anything more. Those sorts of expectations didn't align with his purpose in the trench.
He rose, fully dressed in his uniform—a black leather suit that covered all apart from his head. It had a high collar which kept him warm if the breeze was especially cool, and broad shoulders offering protection when it rained. The uniform was long, similar to a trench coat, only more sealed and tactical. It consisted of several pieces: the torso, arms, legs, inner layers, and outer skirt. The torso was thick leather, enough to defend against a light Red-Eye attack, but not enough to endure it for long. It had four straps that sealed Nathan in and a fifth that brought the collar together if he wanted it. He usually left this undone, however.
Everything, the arms, legs, and even the outer skirt, was thick black leather. Yet it was not restricting. It allowed Nathan to move quickly while presenting the dark appearance of his sect.
His boots were light yet incredibly protective, keeping the weather and rigid ground from touching his feet. They had enough traction to keep him from slipping when the black rock of the trench was wet and allowed him to climb nimbly when he needed to. The gloves attached to the sleeves fit tightly when he squeezed his fingers in. But the crevice was always cool and damp, so he never complained. The tip of each finger was slightly pointed and curled, much like the Black-Eye’s beaks. This helped him climb the walls of the crevice and reach places that would otherwise be inaccessible. Survival in this far North required either wings or adept climbing, and Nathan had no wings. He had always wanted wings, especially after he’d fallen into the darkness. That was when he had seen the Black-Eyes and the Red-Eyes, the way they circled above or darted from their ridges. If he could do that he wouldn’t have to walk so slowly and in plain sight of everything watching from above. If he could do that, he might even—no, best not to consider it. He didn’t have wings, so it wasn’t worth complaining about. Not that there was anyone to complain to anyway.
His cave was near the ground—the fifth-mile ground, The Rope got deeper and deeper with each mile—set above on an outlet about fifteen feet from the ground. It felt safe to be off the ground while he slept, not that safety was permanent. But Nathan felt that he wasn’t as vulnerable. This wasn’t entirely true, of course. The Red-Eyes couldn’t come into his cave, they didn’t like the darkness, but other creatures could. But those were further down, at least past the seventh mile. So Nathan didn’t worry much about them.
He stood and looked out from his cleft for a moment.
Scattered lumps of Black-Eyes decorated the ridge of the crevice, no doubt waiting for him to wake up. He watched them a moment, wondering if today would be the day they would take his corpse. He was silent-silent inside. He felt the darkness, felt the twisting and churning of the voice inside. The voice that had compelled him to take the uniform and walk this path.
Not today.
Nathan returned to The Rope, making eye contact with several of the Black-Eyes. They seemed to understand his decision but knew that he could easily be wrong. The Rope had a way of taking even the strongest of those who lived within it. Nathan knew this as well as they did, that’s why he chose to live alone. Those nearer to the first mile had created encampments and lived in the open rather than in caves. They were much more exposed and under the constant supervision of Black-Eyes. And, while the trench did take them, they survived longer than most. Most likely longer than Nathan would. But no one survived long in The Rope. It was just a matter of time, and Nathan didn’t want to be attached to anything when it was his time to go.
Nathan stooped and wiped his gloved hand along the black rock near his feet.
Wet.
He would have to be careful as he climbed down. He could have avoided any need for caution by creating a ladder or buying one from the nearest encampment, but he felt that it was safer to live somewhere that was difficult to enter. Just because there were others in The Rope didn’t mean they were his allies. He’d had enough dangerous run-ins to know that—while surviving was difficult in itself—desperation easily corrupts comradery. If there was something to be taken, Nathan decided to assume someone would try to take it. And so he kept a close eye on his cave and the few belongings he had. Other than that, it wasn't the way things were done for people of his sort. Isolation strengthened the bond between oneself and the Dark Conviction.
Once he reached the ground, he turned his eyes North. His only plan for the day was to travel to Grimlock, an encampment in the fourth mile. There he would trade some of the valuable items he was able to collect in the sixth and fifth miles for what he needed to get by—food and drink mostly. The items he collected were harvested carefully and meticulously, in fierce competition with the Black-Eyes. The majority of what he found was from corpses further down, both human and creature. Staying ahead of the ever-watching birds was difficult but not unmanageable. In order to compete, he had to become like them. He would sit on a cleft or hidden under a ridge, watching the few lifeforms that staggered by in the deeper miles. Occasionally he would come upon a corpse that the Black-Eyes had finished with—a rare occasion, seeing as nothing was wasted on them. There were at times items they did not eat that got left behind. These were mostly valuable rocks and materials, things that humans could use but the birds had very little use for.
Today, Nathan was taking something especially valuable. He had found it in the seventh mile, which was much deeper than he usually went. He hoped to surprise one of the vendors with it and get some tools he could use to begin a more substantial harvesting routine. Such tools were scarce and almost always expensive. But Nathan was confident he would be able to barter a used one in exchange for his latest find.
The mile walk took about twenty minutes. Going North, Nathan almost never had any reason for caution other than to watch his step for sudden steps or sharp rock. Nothing dangerous moved far from their mile. The creatures of The Rope liked to wait for their prey. Everyone made it further and further, therefore they would have something to eat. Rarely did anything within the first seven miles actively hunt.
Grimlock appeared, and Nathan took in the familiar shapes of the scenery and the unfamiliar shapes of Dwellers-regular humans. He rarely interacted with them and was almost always surprised to see them. They were so much more changing than the Black-Eyes. Leave for a month and they would look different, whether it was a haircut or a new wrinkle. The Rope never changed, but its human inhabitants seemed to change frequently.
Eyes darted to him as he entered the assortment of tents and small shacks. His clothes and presence was especially startling. Few of his kind made an appearance, and rarely did they interact with Dwellers. The teenagers took a special interest in him. One look at his black uniform and empty eyes and they each knew better than to approach him. Yet they stayed close enough to study him. He was from the fifth mile—the verge of despair and the home of the Black-Eyes. The only people that lived there or any further down wore the same black uniform. Where they got it was usually the same source, although some claimed to have made it themselves. Nathan had never found that to be true.
Nathan passed through the Dwellers milling about, their dirty faces and cautious eyes glancing at him before quickly returning to their tasks. If nothing else, Grimlock kept itself busy. It was home to one of the very few mines in the crevice, which offered work to a great many men, women, and teenagers. There were no children in The Rope, none had entered and none ever would. The mine was mostly unsuccessful, of course, turning up a mere handful of valuable metals each month. These metals were used in their day-to-day items or in defensive countermeasures against the Red-Eyes. Nathan knew, of course, that no Red-Eye would travel this far North. But it gave the dwellers something to do, and that kept them from going South a little longer. Those that didn’t mine occupied the trades that the miners relied on: cooking, tailoring, home-making, and selling.
It was one of the less cheery encampments, which Nathan appreciated. He couldn’t stand the encampments further North, particularly in the first mile. They created the false pretense that life in The Rope could get better. That the Black-Eyes wouldn’t one day pick at the bones of every living creature that entered. Nathan knew better. He knew better than to hope. But he couldn’t blame the dwellers, they had much less understanding of the crevice. They were not chosen.
Nathan approached Lark, one of the few vendors able to barter tools and machinery. The man was a fixer, meaning all of his gear was used. But he usually gave fair prices and reliable gear—as reliable as anything within the crevice could be.
“I need an extractor,” Nathan began as he stopped at the man’s table, aware that all nearby eyes were still watching him. “Something that can get through sixth-mile rock at least.”
“That it?” Lark asked, grunting a little. He was one of the few Dwellers who wasn’t so intimidated by Nathan or others of his kind. “Sure you don’t want a whole mining crew while you’re at it?”
“I have something valuable to trade.” Nathan removed an item wrapped in a thin cloth from his pocket.
Lark glanced at him for a moment.
“It shouldn’t matter where I got it,” Nathan said, “but if it does, I came by it fairly.” He nodded and then added, “corpse.”
Lark nodded.
“Most things come by corpse these days,” he murmured, “of course, something had to’ve made the corpse.”
“He was in the seventh mile. I wouldn’t have needed to kill him. Besides, you know we don't do that.”
“Huh,” Lark paused, “and you’re not worried about ending up like him? Fifth mile's not so far from the seventh.”
“I’ll worry about what happens to me.”
“Suppose that’s fair enough,” Lark shrugged, “some feller’ll probably come by with something of yours someday. All coming full circle, I suppose.”
He then took to unwrapping the item. Knowing it was from the seventh mile, he moved carefully. It wasn’t every day that someone found something to trade from that far South. No one in Grimlock went that far. No one that intended to go back, that is.
Lark removed the wrapping and then held his breath at what he saw. A black shape, small enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand but ghastly enough that few would want to touch it. Not until it was properly refined, that is. It was a heart, not flesh but formed into solid rock. It kept its shape perfectly, however, and was too detailed to have been a forgery. No one in the crevice was clever enough to make something that detailed, and no one was brave enough to try and imitate such an item.
“Seventh mile, you said?”
Nathan nodded.
“Plucked it right out of his clothes, did you?”
“The only part the Black-Eyes don’t touch.”
“You know why that is, don’t you?” Lark said, eyes still on the heart.
“I’ve heard the stories.”
“Stories or not, they’re worth believing. Especially for someone who lives in the fifth mile.”
Nathan watched him carefully. Lark didn’t care much about him as a person—no one in the crevice cared much for anyone but themselves—so his warning was nothing more than a fearful expression. Nathan wrapped up the heart.
“If you aren’t interested, I can take it further up,” Nathan said, “I hear Hush Valley pays handsomely for these.”
“Why not take it there yourself?” Lark watched him skeptically.
Nathan hesitated.
“Let’s just say that people like me are no longer welcome that far North.”
Lark grunted.
“I wonder why. Seems like people would be lining up to welcome someone as charming as yourself.”
Nathan didn’t answer.
“Your kind are getting more and more scarce,” Lark nodded, “the future is community.”
“Community or not, you’re going to die, Lark,” Nathan said bluntly. “And the Black-Eyes will peel the flesh off your bones.”
“At least I’ll live a little longer than you,” Lark said angrily, leaning over his table. “Who knows, I might even make it out!”
Nathan was silent. Very few people made it out, those who did were usually in the first two miles. He quieted himself and felt inside, reaching out to the Dark Conviction.
It answered, showing him a range of colors-all shades of black and gray. They leaned and spiraled toward black more than they did gray. He studied them, felt them, and knew the answer. Lark wouldn’t make it out.
“If you don’t want it I’ll take it back.”
“No!” Lark sighed, tapping his finger impatiently. “I want it. But you don’t have to be so unlikable.”
“Do you have the extractor?”
Lark glared at him before reaching under his table.
They worked out a fair trade then, with very little haggling required. Both were eager to move on to less antagonizing activities. Nathan handed over the heart and walked away with a decent one-handed extractor. The eyes of Grimlock followed him as he left. They were almost as persistent as the Black-Eyes. But, where the Black-Eyes had anticipation and a sort of indifference, the Dwellers had eyes fearful and in awe.
“Fool,” Lark muttered to one of the many teenagers who asked about the dark visitor. “Just like every other Shade that’s gone South.” He glanced toward the fifth mile. “Die alone and leave a black heart. That’s all they’ll do in this miserable trench.”
The next day, Nathan woke and stepped out of his cave. The Black-Eyes were waiting and ruffled themselves a bit as he looked up at them. They were on alert, ready should he fall over and die at any given moment. Nathan felt no conviction to die that day. Thus, extractor in his pocket, Nathan climbed down his small cliff.
Once he was down, he turned South and began to walk toward the sixth mile.
The fifth mile being the home of the Black-Eyes, it was eerie and unsettling. But it was safer than the sixth mile. That was why the harrowing birds lived there. They could fly into the sixth mile, and did so routinely, often going an extra mile if food was scarce. But to nest that far—even on the ridge—was dangerous. Even Shades understood that to make such a decision would be to accelerate their journey—possibly to step ahead of the Dark Conviction. Every Shade knew that life was a decision. Where one lived during it was a decision. Living in the fifth mile was a decision. Choosing not to live in the sixth was another decision. Every Shade made decisions based on their individual convictions. Every Shade walked their own path; however short it would be was not their decision.
As he neared the sixth mile, Nathan began to scan for his quarry: Bloodstone. Often at the base of the crevice near the walls, Bloodstone would appear in thin veins running through the black rock on every side. He had seen some in the sixth mile before but hadn’t had an extractor at the time. But now he could extract the precious crimson material and barter it for either more tools or food. For the moment, Nathan's conviction was to live.
The sixth mile seemed to rapidly grow shorter, without a single vein of Bloodstone appearing. It was a very curious material, and glowed at very inconsistent times. This made it very difficult to predict where it could be found. Nathan had not planned on entering the seventh mile to extract any, but—after reaching the marker—he realized he would have to if he wanted any Bloodstone.
He stopped as he saw a dark shape in the distance, almost out of sight. His mind shifted to alert, and he remained still. The shape was moving, coming out of a hole in the crevice wall. After a moment, it turned to face him. Nathan realized what it was then, its dark uniform and solemn eyes told him everything he needed.
The two Shades looked at one another, neither moving or so much as waving a hand.
The other Shade was older than him. Even from where he was standing, Nathan could see the gray hair and effects age had left on his posture and gait. But he was a Shade nonetheless. He was one of that shadowed sect, just as Nathan was.
After a moment, the other Shade put his hand in his pocket. He removed a small metal object. Nathan couldn’t make out the specifics of it, but he knew what it signified. The older Shade held it forward for a moment before dropping it to the ground. It clattered almost noiselessly to the black rock. He then turned and began walking South.
Nathan waited until he was gone from his sight. And then he moved toward the object dropped by the Shade.
He stood over it for a moment, studying it. It was a signet, small and silver with a single ornamental detail: a cursive letter L. Other than that one twist of decoration, it wasn’t much more than a simple piece of metal. But to a Shade—to this Shade—it was much more. It was his Tone. This was his most prized possession, the one thing he had held onto since he had entered the crevice. With it, a Shade is enduring, able to exist with the darkness as long as their haunted conviction wills them to. But once their individual item is lost or cast aside, a Shade is left empty, accompanied only by the darkness. That personal attachment within departs and they have only to travel South.
Nathan picked it up. He took one last look at the seventh mile before turning back. He decided that he would extract Bloodstone another day. What had happened was more important. As he walked, he noticed several Black-Eyes glide toward the seventh mile.
Returning to his cave, he entered it and walked further to the back. It was not a large cave, but long enough that he could separate it and assign different purposes to different alcoves.
Eventually, he reached an upright stone with a red vein glowing through it—Bloodstone. But this was not a vein he would ever harvest. Laid out carefully before the stone were various Tones. A photograph, a coin, a silver cross—and now, a metal signet. The small artifact joined the ranks of the many other Shades that had received the final call near the fifth mile. All but the most recent of the trinkets he had found on the corpses of their Shades. Never before had he seen one leave their Tone and walk South. Nathan realized he had never seen a Shade quite as old as the other one had been, either. Many things about the happening were strange. This decision was not the customary thing for a Shade to do. The journey South or being killed by Red-Eyes or some other creature past the sixth mile—those things happened to Shades. But more often than not they happened naturally, as to any Dweller. Nathan had never known a Shade to choose them. The Dark Conviction ordered all Shades to travel South eventually, but they never left their Tones behind when they obeyed.
As he laid down to sleep, he knew that in the morning he would have to follow the Shade. If for nothing else than to collect his uniform and the heart he would leave behind. They would each be incredibly valuable items.
Nathan slept uneasily, the older Shade’s face appearing and compelling him to journey South with him.
The dream was surreal, and Nathan felt himself joining the Shade—contrary to the Dark Conviction. In his dream, Nathan left his Tone at the vein of Bloodstone and followed the older Shade into death.
The moment he was awake, Nathan rose and stepped outside of his cave. He was going deeper South and had to move quickly if he wanted to avoid the attraction of the Red-Eyes. There were worse creatures to avoid as well, but Nathan hoped the Shade hadn’t gotten any further than the eighth or ninth mile.
The Black-Eyes studied him from above as if even they were able to see that he was more outfitted than usual. At his side was a knife, long, thin, and black. It was a weapon unique to the Shades, and something he hoped he would not have to use. The Black-Eyes noted his protection and began to prepare for flight. They knew that—if he was going South—there would likely be a corpse. They weren’t particular as to whose.
After descending his cleft, Nathan moved quickly. He knew that he didn’t have to worry about anything until the seventh mile, but his mind was already on high alert.
Before he had even left the fifth mile, he suddenly froze, sensing another presence. Nathan put his hand to his knife and focused. He could hear it and smell it. But he could feel it, too. He could feel that it wasn’t a Shade. It was something lighter and brighter, something that should be in the fourth mile, maybe even the third. Whatever it was, it was very misplaced. If he could feel it, so could every other creature in the crevice.
In a sudden movement, hand still at his knife, Nathan whirled around. His eyes rushed across the landscape, searching for anything that wasn’t a part of the terrain. There. He saw it, a Dweller. He lowered his brows as he understood it better.
It was a young human—teenager—outfitted in simple gray clothes with a backpack slung over its shoulder. It looked like a boy.
“What are you doing here,” Nathan said, his tone calm and quiet yet morbid—the greatest asset a Shade had.
The boy did not answer, he seemed startled.
Nathan studied him a moment longer.
“You’re following me.”
“No,” the boy quickly said, “I’m going South.”
“Why.”
“Why’re you?” the boy countered.
“I am a Shade,” Nathan answered. “We travel The Rope as our convictions will us to.”
The boy paused, seemingly in awe of the shadowy man.
“Turn back,” Nathan said as he turned back toward the South, “you are too deep already.”
“Wait!” the boy said desperately.
Nathan did not turn but kept walking. He could hear the boy follow, stepping carefully over jagged rocks and around puddles. He would give up eventually.
“I want to be a Shade!” the boy said.
Nathan stopped. The words flowed through the air and struck his ears painfully. The boy was too young. He was too—Nathan shook his head. It didn’t feel right, something in the boy didn’t feel right. He couldn’t be a Shade. Never. He was—
Nathan turned and stared at him. No one wanted to be a Shade. That wasn’t how it worked.
“What is your name, boy.”
The boy stopped in his tracks.
“Aron.”
The name didn’t seem significant. At times, Shades could feel things from names. They could feel life, death, joy, and pain—all things that would determine how long a Dweller was to live in the crevice. But Aron gave no impression.
“Where are you from.”
“Grimlock,” Aron answered, “I—I saw you pass through and trade with Lark.”
“How old are you.”
“Fourteen.”
Fourteen. Hardly old enough to be in The Rope. But he was old enough, and there was nothing to say that one so young couldn’t be a Shade.
“Why do you want to be a Shade.”
Aron took a moment to answer. Nathan had his own suspicions as to why, but—for the sake of Aron’s unique presence and request—he waited.
“I—” Aron thought a moment, his brows lowering and growing closer together. If his expression was honest, Nathan mused that his emotions may be closer to those of a Shade than he had thought. But what he needed to know was whether the conviction was there. “I don’t know,” he concluded. “But I do. I know I do.”
Nathan was silent a moment. Part of Aron’s answer was correct in regard to becoming a Shade. Very few of them knew why they were to become a Shade. The majority knew only that it was happening, they couldn’t explain why. And that was the way every Shade continued—bending to the same shadowed conviction that had initially spoken to them. But the other side, the emotional side—Nathan couldn’t believe that Aron had the inner potential to be touched by the Dark Conviction.
He began to walk toward the boy.
“Aron,” he began, his eyes grim and his tone unsympathetic. “To be a Shade is to cast aside joy and embrace the darkest corners of yourself. A Shade knows only pain—therefore feels none. Isolation is our only companion, and there is no surety of life. Where the darkness wills, there a Shade goes.”
He was standing in front of him now, looking down at him. “This is not a light commitment, nor is it a reversible decision. Once chosen, a Shade is blackened—their heart turned to stone.” He paused as he saw the boy’s eyes. They were still and blue, unsure but curious. “You are—different. You are not a Shade,” he concluded, “Shades do not ask to be chosen. You are—” Nathan paused. He still couldn’t wrap around what he felt Aron was. Even when he reached out to the darkness, he couldn't get a straight answer. “You are,” he then softened his expression, amazement taking over. “You are light.”
Aron was confused, startled, and scared all at once. He took a step backward.
“Light?” he stuttered. “What do you mean, I’m—”
“You cannot be a Shade.” Nathan was sure of it now. Aron had not been chosen, he had not been touched by the Dark Conviction—yet he was in The Rope. That, accompanied by the light Nathan felt, was cause for curiosity.
“How did you become a Shade?” Aron asked.
Nathan was silent. No one asked that question and he had never found an answer to it. He didn’t know when he had taken the Dark Conviction, how he had been pulled deeper into the crevice. But he knew it was who he was. It was who he should be. All he had was the darkness.
“I was chosen,” was all he could think of. “Shades are chosen—”
“Who chose you?”
“I—” Nathan stopped now, startled to find that he was uncertain. He knew the name all Shades swore by, but Aron's question seemed deeper. He looked away from the boy and at the Black-Eyes watching them. “You have wasted enough time. Turn around and go back to Grimlock.”
Nathan turned abruptly.
“No, I told you I want to become a—”
“You don’t!” Nathan shouted as he whirled around, one finger pointed toward Aron. His lip was quivering and his teeth were bared. His eyes were fierce and his finger shook. He couldn't explain why. He recalled the older Shade, the silence with which he had passed on toward the South. “You do not want to live with the darkness,” he hissed, somewhat surprised by his words.
Aron said nothing.
Nathan lowered his finger but kept his glare a moment longer. He felt that he had acted strangely, uncustomary of a Shade. He looked away.
“Now leave, you know nothing of the lives we live.”
“I have this!”
Nathan turned. In Aron’s gloved hand, held carefully but confidently, was a black heart. The same that Nathan had traded to Lark.
“You stole it.”
Aron didn’t answer. Nathan watched him for a moment.
“What do you intend to do with it?” he then asked, wondering how much the boy knew about Shades.
“I’m going to—” he couldn’t know that “—I’m going to become a Shade with it.”
Nathan said nothing, but his perception of the boy changed. No matter how young, nor how light his insides were, the boy was set on becoming a Shade. Somehow he even knew the nearest way to imitate one.
“You plan to steal my extractor and inject yourself with the heart of a Shade.” Nathan gave the boy no hint of caution or surprise.
Aron lowered his brows in commitment. Nathan could see and feel that he had guessed the boy’s plan but doubted that Aron was so certain he wanted it. There was another sort of attraction at work. The natural effect of The Rope. It convinced Dwellers to think things they shouldn’t, which led to them doing things they shouldn’t. No boy so light should want to be a Shade. And no Shade should want to help him.
As the Black-Eyes ruffled their feathers, implying that he and the boy had talked long enough, Nathan had an idea.
“Follow me,” he said as he turned around and began walking toward the seventh mile.
“Where are we going?” Aron said, stuffing the heart into his bag and running to catch up.
“The seventh mile,” Nathan said. “Hopefully,” he added, recalling that he didn’t know that the older Shade hadn’t made it farther.
“What’s in the seventh mile?” Aron asked.
Nathan didn’t answer. The boy would soon learn. He would see the creatures that waited farther along The Rope. And then he would either die or decide never to leave Grimlock again. Nathan hoped for the latter, but could not reject the possibility of the former.
The Black-Eyes began to glide above them as they traveled through the sixth mile.
Nathan listened to Aron’s attempts at discussion but rarely chose to humor them. Shades rarely conversed on menial topics, and that was all the boy seemed to be interested in. Other than the potential dangers they would face, of course. But Nathan said very little then also. He had no responsibility to warn the Dweller of the many dangers that might step between them and the rest of the crevice. A Shade is responsible only for its own life—however short it is.
Aron did ask several questions about Shades, which Nathan heard but did not answer. He was not keen on sharing the dark service he had been called into, not to one so fascinated by it. It seemed wrong—it was wrong—that a Dweller should be so interested. But many things about The Rope were wrong.
Gradually, after speaking to himself for nearly an hour, Aron was comfortable enough to say something that interested Nathan.
“I came here after my dad left and my mom died,” Aron explained. Nathan had not asked, but he listened closely now. “I don’t really know how, but I just ended up here and it’s my home now.”
Nathan wondered at his conclusion. He felt the boy’s spirit, his lightness. If he survived long enough, it was possible he would leave. Not many escaped The Rope, but those who did came in several categories. The first category was those in the first mile. They were very shallow in regard to their knowledge of the darkness and experienced very little of it. As such, the majority of them vanished sooner or later—taken back to the above. The other category was harder to identify. They walked along The Rope like any other Dweller, but had a different feel than the others. They lived just as deep but felt more—more vibrant. They had a reason to resist the darkness. And, although the crevice tried to pull them down, these left a powerful impact when they vanished. Shades never left—not apart from death, that is. Once they were chosen, they were destined to travel further and further down The Rope.
A shadow passed over them and interrupted his thoughts. Nathan stopped and looked up. A bird—not a Black-Eye—was gliding toward the ridge on their left. It was smaller and thinner than the birds that had watched them ever since they had begun walking. Its beak was narrow but curved as well, and its black body made the crevice look gray in comparison. But what Nathan noticed most was a red glimmer—the eyes of the bird.
“Red-Eyes,” he said, motioning for Aron to stop walking. The boy did, glancing all about the crevice. Once his eyes landed on the bird, he took a step backward. “Stay,” Nathan said softly. “A Red-Eye is never alone. And you cannot outrun one, let alone the horde that is waiting somewhere.”
“What do we do?” Aron whispered.
Nathan noted the fear in his voice, the pure and unbridled terror. The desire to live. The need to escape The Rope. He could not be a Shade.
“Look for a cave,” Nathan said as he calmly continued walking.
“Shouldn’t we turn back?!” Aron hissed.
“No point,” the Shade answered.
And that was the end of the discussion. Nathan knew that Aron would follow but didn’t turn back to check. If the boy didn’t follow, he would be much more likely to die. Not that it mattered much to Nathan. But, as he scanned for a cave, the Shade found himself wondering if it did matter more. His own life was temporary and fleeting—a moment in the crevice that meant little to anyone other than the darkness. That was what it meant to be a Shade. Though they carried on as dutifully as possible, they had no attachment to living. But Aron—
Nathan’s eyes caught on a small outlet, a possible cave.
Aron should live, he decided. There was something about him that was different than the Dwellers—or perhaps, simply more than the other Dwellers. Nathan gestured toward the cave and then began walking toward it.
Nathan turned toward the ridge as he heard a ruffling of feathers. His eyes caught on the Red-Eye. It had spread its wings and opened its beak. In a moment, their fate would be announced.
The darkness spoke, its voice potent and more vocal than usual.
“Run!” Nathan said, just as the bird’s harrowing shriek began to echo through the trench.
Nathan ran, the sound of dozens of wings ruffling and flapping driving him forward. But then he stopped. Aron. He turned around and saw the boy running, not far behind but far enough that the Red-Eyes had singled him out. They started to flurry, a black mass of them swirling above like a hurricane. The sound became severe as the birds collectively shrieked and clicked their beaks. Aron put his hands to his ears as he ran, and Nathan felt a sudden—and new—sense of horror as the boy lost his footing. He fell forward, unable to catch himself in time as he struck the black rock.
The Red-Eyes began to descend.
Nathan moved with almost instinctual urgency, stopping only for a moment when the darkness compelled him to. Something else was driving him forward, something that allowed him to ignore the Dark Conviction for a moment.
Nathan ran toward Aron, who was struggling to get up. Without thinking—although he knew it may cost him his life—Nathan grabbed the boy and cradle him in his arms as he ran for shelter. Aron’s arms gripped him tightly. No human had held onto him so tightly. Not that he could remember.
In a moment, the storm of Red-Eyes fell on them. There was a moment of silence before it happened, like the stillness before a thunder-crack, and then the world turned dark. In that moment, Nathan felt the darkness turn on him.
The Red-Eyes were everywhere, circling and landing on Nathan. He hunched over, keeping them from touching Aron. They tore at his suit, their beaks and talons working their way past the thick leather. They found his face and began pecking and clawing at it. Nathan shouted—red and fiery emotion suddenly rippling through him.
He couldn’t see, but he knew the cave was near. The ground began to get lower and the sounds began to echo. The cave. Nathan gritted his teeth and pushed on. But then, a new horror struck him. He suddenly found it difficult to move forward—he was even being pulled back. The birds were clinging to him and pulling, trying to keep him from entering the cave. A sudden sense of desperation—something he had never felt before—entered him. Thinking quickly, he used what strength he had and threw Aron forward. The boy vanished from the darkness of the birds, Nathan only hoped he landed in the cave.
As the Red-Eyes doubled their efforts to keep him from the cave, Nathan reached for his knife. Even this was difficult, as they had begun pulling at his arms. But he had to reach it, he had unsheathe it. Aron wouldn’t survive without him. He wouldn’t know when it was safe to leave. He wouldn’t know how to avoid the Red-Eyes.
The darkness told him it didn't matter. Aron didn't matter. Only it did.
Nathan gripped the knife and whipped it out of its sheathe. And then he felt fury overtake him.
His hand and arm moved through the air quicker than the Red-Eyes could anticipate. First one, then two, then five, then ten of the Red-Eyes fell to the floor—dead or limping. But that wasn’t enough, not yet. As long as they kept clinging and pulling, Nathan kept swinging and stabbing. The moment he felt enough relief to move again, he leaped forward into the cave. He rolled forward a short bit and then turned to face the outside.
The birds were shrieking and churning more violently than Nathan had ever seen them. Dozens lay dead as the cloud billowed before the entrance. Nathan watched them, his knife still gripped tight in his hand. Never before had he killed a Red-Eye. Never before had he needed or wanted to. He was breathing heavily, terrified and angry. As the dark shadow of their cloud lifted, Nathan felt his own darkness begin to argue within him.
Aron.
Nathan turned to the cave, his eyes darting about its darkness for the boy.
“Aron!” he shouted. He had never shouted. He had never needed to.
“I’m here,” the boy answered weakly.
Nathan sighed and sat down as Aron crept out of the darkness. His cheeks were stained with tears—Nathan’s were stained with blood. Aron saw him, saw the knife and the dead birds just outside the cave.
“You—” he looked at the knife, “how did you kill them?”
Nathan looked at his knife. Instinct. It had come so naturally, as natural as it had been to live as a Shade. He couldn’t explain how he had been able to escape the birds. He wasn't sure if it had been the right thing to do. The darkness had compelled him forward—convicted him to leave Aron. And he had disobeyed. He had never ignored the Dark Conviction.
“Do not leave the cave,” Nathan said, returning the knife to its sheathe. “The Red-Eyes cannot enter it.”
Aron didn’t argue and leaned back against one of the walls. Nathan stayed at the mouth of the cave, watching as the Red-Eyes disappeared. Once they were gone, the Black-Eyes began to descend, disappointed by the outcome of their skirmish. Red-Eyes were much less meaty than two humans.
They landed heavily and began squabbling over the dead birds. But there were plenty for them to eat.
“I don’t want to be eaten by Black-Eyes when I die,” Aron said, a bit of a tremor in his voice as the haggling birds began to tear into the smaller birds.
Nathan had no answer for the boy. He had always known that the Black-Eyes would own his corpse when he died. It was natural, something a Shade understood and accepted. But he agreed with Aron, he did not want to see the boy picked apart by the birds.
“I don’t think I want to be a Shade,” Aron said suddenly. His voice was soft but broken. Nathan didn’t need to turn around to see that there were tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to die here,” the boy sobbed quietly. “I want to make it out, I want to live.”
Nathan thought carefully. He wanted the boy to live as well. Whether he would or not was a different question, and not entirely up to either of them. He could die by the Red-Eyes or an angry Dweller, just like anyone else. But even if he never made it out, he didn’t have to die this far down the crevice. He could die in the first mile, where he would be more comfortable, more at ease. The Rope was a little brighter there—better for younger Dwellers.
“Do you want to live?” Aron asked after he had cried for a while.
Nathan lowered his brows. Wanting to live was a topic very removed from any Shade. It wasn't up to them, they handed it over when they accepted the Dark Conviction.
“Yes,” he found himself answering.
“Then why do you come down here? Why do you live in the fifth mile?”
Nathan didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how to. He knew that all Shades worked their way further and further into the crevice. That was how the darkness worked and how each of them ended. But it seemed to contradict any real desire to live. The Dark Conviction, the internal pulling and pushing, that was what brought him here. But Nathan wondered what kept him. Perhaps it was a lack of something. Perhaps—he turned to Aron—perhaps whatever the boy had was essential to leaving The Rope. Or wanting to leave it.
“Sleep,” Nathan said, “I will wake you when it's time to leave.”
Aron obeyed but kept a wary eye on the entrance.
Nathan watched the Black-Eyes as they finished their meal and began to clean their feathers. He wondered if they lived long. He wondered if they ate one another’s corpses. Of course they did, it would be wasteful not to. They turned their dark eyes from the barren space the Red-Eyes had inhabited to Nathan. They studied him, and Nathan wondered what they would say if they could speak to him.
Nathan turned his eyes from the birds to Aron. The boy was already asleep, despite the cold hard rock underneath his head. He searched inside, asked the darkness. The answer was muddied, partially by his disobedience and partially on account of something else. This something had to do with Aron. Nathan studied him as he came to his conclusion. The boy might live.
Nathan woke Aron by shaking him with his boot. The boy stirred but took a moment to wake. Suddenly his eyes shot open and he was anxiously staring at everything at once.
“We’re moving,” Nathan said.
Aron was up in moments. Nathan noted his excitement, but couldn’t replicate it.
“We’re going a little further South before we turn back,” Nathan said as he stepped out from the cave. He had scouted carefully before waking Aron and was confident that no Red-Eyes had appeared in the few minutes between then and now.
“Wait,” Aron clambered cautiously after him. “Why can’t we go back now?”
The Black-Eyes repositioned themselves as the two humans came into view. It was never too early to eat again, and they had the impression that the Shade and his companion would provide another meal soon.
“There’s something I need to find,” Nathan said, recalling the older Shade that had passed this way.
“Can’t you find it later—without me?”
“It’s a dangerous trip,” Nathan said, stopping as he said the words. “I don’t want to make the trip twice,” he mused to himself. He then came to a realization. He didn’t know how much further the other Shade had gotten, or if he was even dead yet. It could be days before they turn back. They could reach the ninth mile before finding a trace of him. Nathan turned to face the boy and wondered if his life depended on this moment.
“If you turn back now, and run, you will reach the fifth mile.”
Nathan wondered at his words, wondered if they were true and really what he meant to say. But he had said them, and they were what a Shade would say. The Dark Conviction approved of them.
“But, what about the Red-Eyes?” Aron asked, his eyes widening at the thought of traveling alone.
“Their territory extends for only about a half-mile North. Once you reach the fifth you will be safe.”
Aron seemed hesitant. Nathan knew what he wanted, but didn’t know if he could give it. As a Shade, he had a certain duty to fulfill. He had to find the older Shade’s remains. They couldn’t be left to waste away—especially not the heart.
“I must travel further South,” he concluded, “if you do not want to go alone, you may come with me.”
This last statement came as a surprise, and Nathan wondered why he had said it. It seemed strange, but the darkness did not argue with it.
“Please,” Aron said, his lip trembling. “I don’t want to go alone.”
Nathan looked at him a moment. He could not bring himself to feel what the boy wanted him to feel. He knew that, if he truly wanted to live, he should go with him and never venture this far South again. But the Dark Conviction was willing him to descend. He felt it clearly then.
“Come with me,” Nathan said as he turned and began to walk South.
Aron didn’t follow immediately. Nathan could feel a shift in the boy’s emotions. He could feel horror and then anger. But ultimately, fear won out and the boy followed. Nathan was relieved but also conflicted. The boy was safer beside him, that was a certainty. But there would be more dangers the further South they went. They had narrowly escaped the Red-Eyes, which were trivial compared to the dangers waiting past the tenth mile. But the older Shade would not have made it that far, not if he had given up.
They walked in silence now. Aron had no more questions to ask and Nathan had nothing to tell him. Dread loomed over the boy and uneasiness began to settle in Nathan. The black walls grew blacker, and the rigid edges turned sharp and daunting. The Black-Eyes followed more closely, as if they were expecting the two to drop dead at any moment. The farthest Nathan had ventured was the ninth mile, which was only a little over a mile away. He hoped—for Aron’s sake—that they wouldn’t reach it.
“Did anyone ever live here?” Aron asked, surveying numerous holes and entrances in the walls.
“At one time.” Nathan scanned the clefts in the walls. “And perhaps they still do. They remained hidden and secluded.”
“How did they survive?”
“They didn’t. They lived, but became something else so that they could.”
Aron didn’t understand but Nathan didn’t explain.
“They belong to The Rope now,” he added. “Much as the Black-Eyes and Red-Eyes.”
Aron was silent for a moment before asking another question.
“Do Shades belong to The Rope?”
Nathan didn’t answer. Again, the boy had asked a question he couldn’t respond to. He wasn’t sure what it meant to belong to The Rope. If it meant being unable to leave, then yes, the Shades belonged to it. He belonged to it. He wondered what the alternative was. No Shade was free—the Dark Conviction substituted freedom with its presence. A Shade had no need for freedom.
“Look!” Aron said, his tone a hushed whisper.
Nathan looked, surprised that the boy had noticed something he hadn’t.
There, slumped down on his knees, was the older Shade. He wasn’t dead, although the Black-Eyes had begun to circle him.
“Stay here,” Nathan said as he moved forward. Aron obeyed, his eyes fixed on the Shade.
Nathan moved carefully and quietly, knowing that whatever had brought him low could be nearby. There was something curious about the older Shade, something he couldn’t understand. The darkness seemed to resist his inquiries, so he saved his questions and focused on the figure.
Stepping in front of him, Nathan looked down at the older Shade. His suit was worn but not punctured or torn as he had expected. No blood was slipping from his body. He had no trace of a mortal wound. He was alive and in perfect health.
Nathan stepped back as the Shade looked up at him. His face was stained with tears. His eyes were bitter and tired. His teeth were bared in despair.
The two Shades looked at one another for a moment before the older one spoke.
“Forty years,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Forty years I have endured the darkness.” He shook his head slightly. “Forty years I have waited for death. Waited and been denied.” He then leaned forward and let out a dry and weary sob.
Nathan was shocked and horrified at the sight. The older Shade was the same one that had discarded the signet. He had given up. But he was much more devastated than a Shade should be.
Still bent over, the Shade continued.
“I should have died,” he said, his voice a soft creak. “It was right in front of me, it stood right in front of me,” he raised himself and pointed to the place Nathan was standing. “It stood there and looked at me.” He shook his head. “Has anyone come that close to the Eyeless and lived?”
Nathan lowered his brows and held his breath. To meet an Eyeless was extraordinary. At its appearance, Red-Eyes and Black-Eyes vanished. Nothing stood in its way, and nothing that crossed its path lived.
“Have you—” the older Shade suddenly stopped and lifted his head. “Would you do it?”
Nathan lowered his brows.
“Would you take me from this place?”
“No, a Shade does not—”
“Death!” the Shade whispered in desperation, “death is the way of the Shade! Inner and outer death! What difference does it make how we die, other than that it is not by our own hands?”
Nathan took a step back. He was confused and unnerved.
“Come,” the older Shade nodded toward his knife. “Do it, please. Do it quickly.”
“No.” Nathan took another step backward. “This isn’t right. A Shade must live until—”
“Until what?!” the older Shade rose now, his fists shaking. “Until they are old and denied even by death?”
“The Dark Conviction will—”
“The Dark Conviction is a lie!” the Shade hissed. “A lie crafted by ourselves or some other dark creature! The darkness is darkness! It is to be feared, not obeyed!”
Nathan shook his head in horror.
“The Dark Conviction is a part of us, a part of all Shades. It is what unites us and—”
“The only things joining me to you is that we have sold ourselves to the darkness,” the older Shade said, taking a step forward.
“We were chosen.”
“Chosen by whom? And for what purpose?”
Nathan was about to protest, but the Shade continued.
“Ask your Dark Conviction,” he said, nodding frantically. “Ask it why it chose you and for what purpose.”
There was a brief silence as Nathan stared and the Shade waited.
“Ask it!” he shouted, his eyes wild and his lip quivering.
In his mind, in his heart, Nathan obeyed and asked the question. As if he had heard, the older Shade spoke.
“You are different,” he whispered eerily. “You are destined to walk alone, to live between life and death. You must live this because it is who you are. Deny it and you deny yourself. Without it, you are nothing.”
Nathan stepped backward, almost stumbling over jagged rock. He had begun to breathe heavily and was shaking his head. The darkness was fighting as well, fighting Nathan's questions and the other Shade's answers.
“The darkness lied to us,” the older Shade said. “It doesn’t want us dead. It wants us to live.” The Shade nodded grimly. “It wants us to live as shades of itself, emissaries of darkness. Death is our only escape.”
“No—”
“Listen to me! Listen, listen!” the Shade continued. “What matters—what we should have looked to—is up there,” he pointed toward the ridge. “Up where the sun shines and the birds don’t pick at our flesh! Up where—” he stopped as he saw Aron. “Up where he belongs,” he murmured. Nathan saw a new emotion enter the Shade's eyes. “Up where clean souls walk and live and die peacefully.”
Nathan stepped away from the Shade and toward Aron.
“Please,” the Shade continued as Nathan resolved not to touch him. “It is too late for us, we cannot turn from the darkness. Not like him,” he gestured to Aron with a weak smile. “But we don’t have to live for the darkness.” In a slow movement that made Nathan stop, the Shade removed his long thin blade.
“You won’t,” Nathan said, knowing that no Shade would choose that way out.
“No,” the Shade smiled, “I’m not going to kill myself. You’re going to kill me.” He then nodded to Aron. “Or I’ll kill the boy.”
“He’s no part of this,” Nathan said, fiercely now. “He—”
“He deserves to be up there,” the Shade agreed, pointing his knife to the ridge. “But he’s not.” He lowered his knife and took a careful step forward. “If you believe he can make it out, if you believe he should, then you are already fighting the Dark Conviction.”
“No, I’m not,” Nathan said, heeding the pressure within.
“Then why do you care? Shades understand that death is a natural part of The Rope. The moment someone enters, they are not guaranteed a second of life!”
“He’s different,” Nathan gritted his teeth and took a step backward. “He’s light, he’s—”
“Light?”
“Yes!” Nathan nodded and lowered his brows.
“And light deserves to make it out of darkness?”
“Yes!” Nathan shouted, his fists clenched and his heart beating wildly. “It deserves to be free, to smile, to cry tears of joy!” He didn't know what he was saying now, and didn't care what the darkness was saying. “It deserves to be free of the darkness!” he concluded.
The older Shade stopped a moment. He smiled gently and nodded.
“Do you really believe that?”
Nathan was breathing heavily and took a moment to consider what he had said. The darkness was shouting at him to go back on his statement. But he nodded.
“Good,” the older Shade said. He then raised his knife into an offensive position. “That means you’ll defend him.” Then he began to walk toward Nathan, knife poised for combat.
“Don’t,” Nathan shook his head and restrained his hand from going to his knife.
The older Shade continued forward.
“I’m going to kill him,” he said calmly, eyes set in an emotionless gray.
“No,” Nathan fought to keep his hands still as the Shade approached. He would do it, Nathan could see it now.
“The Black-Eyes will peel the flesh off his bones.”
Nathan couldn’t hold himself back any longer. With the same fury he had used on the Red-Eyes, he removed his knife and met the older Shade.
There was hardly a struggle. He had moved so swiftly and the older Shade had done so little to protect himself that Nathan’s knife was in his opponent's abdomen in seconds.
The older Shade gasped a moment as pain filled his expression. Nathan realized what he’d done and stepped back in horror, his knife still in the side of the Shade’s stomach.
“No, no, I—” he moved toward the older Shade, hands trembling.
“It’s—” the Shade grimaced, “it’s alright. Don’t blame yourself. You’re not—” he shut his mouth as he lowered himself to the floor. He was breathing in short and painful gasps.
Nathan went to his side and looked at the knife protruding from his stomach. Blood was seeping out around it. The Shade’s stomach rose and fell quickly as he fought the pain. Nathan shook his head.
“Louis,” the man gasped, a new sort of life suddenly filling his eyes.
Nathan looked to him, searching his eyes for the significance of his words.
“My name was Louis,” he said, nodding quickly. His face was turning white. “I—” he grimaced. “I was twenty-five when I came down—” he strained his words, “down here.”
“I’m sorry, Louis, I—”
“Get him out,” Louis whispered, grabbing Nathan’s collar and pulling him close. “Get him over the ridge. Get him out.”
“I don’t know how, I—”
“Twenty-first—” he paused and shut his eyes to resist the pain spiraling up from his stomach. “Twenty-first mile. Get to the—” he let out several quick breaths, “get to the twenty-first mile.”
“What’s at the—”
Louis shoved him away.
“Get him there,” he sighed. “Don’t let him die here.”
Nathan stayed where he had been pushed. Louis turned his eyes to the sky, where the Black-Eyes were beginning to circle. He watched them with tired eyes. Nathan wondered how many corpses he had seen, how many times he had watched Black-Eyes feast on a dead thing.
“Don’t let—” Louis kept his eyes on the circling birds, “don't let the darkness take my heart.”
“I won’t,” Nathan said, putting his hand on the older man’s shoulder.
Louis looked to him, and his last ounces of strength were put into a weak smile. And then he left the crevice.
Nathan stayed by the body, trying to process and understand everything. He had killed a Shade. The Shade had wanted to die, but he had still killed him. Nathan had never killed anyone. Nathan argued that the Shade would have killed Aron. Aron.
“Aron?” he turned.
Aron was nowhere in sight.
“Aron!” he shouted.
Louis’ last words echoed in his mind. Everything the older Shade had said spiraled and twisted inside. They contradicted everything he had known, everything the darkness had told him. Removing the knife, Nathan hesitated a moment before plunging it into the dead man’s chest. He worked quickly, knowing that Aron would not be safe without him. Once the black heart was in his hands, he turned from Louis.
Nathan began to run. He ran back North, noting the places they had passed along the way.
“Aron!” he shouted every now and then.
He received no answers and was about to give up when the cave entered his sight.
“Aron!” he shouted as he approached it. “Aron, I’m here!”
He leaped into the cave, his eyes scanning it for the boy. There. At the back of the cave, tucked against the wall.
“Aron,” he stopped when he saw the boy’s eyes. They were wide with fear. Fear of Louis. Fear of death. Fear of the darkness. “You're safe. I’m not going to hurt you, Aron.”
Aron watched him closely, looking to the knife sheathed at his side.
“I promise,” he said, holding his hands forward. “I—” he paused, “I see it now.” He looked at his hand then. It was covered under the dark gloves and pointed fingertips. “I see…” he murmured to himself as he pulled off the gloves. His hands were pale and soft rather than the dark talons they had been for years. Nathan touched his fingers together a moment, feeling his skin. He then lowered to Aron's level and reached out his bare hand.
“I see it now, Aron.”
Aron didn’t understand, but Nathan didn’t need him to.
“Come with me,” Nathan said, suddenly feeling light and free. “I know how to get out.”
Aron studied him a moment.
“No one leaves The Rope,” he said, “especially not Shades.”
Nathan thought for a minute. He thought about the black heart he had taken from Louis’ chest. His own heart was black, stained by years of embracing the darkness. Perhaps he couldn’t escape the crevice. But he knew that Aron’s heart was red. It was soft and fleshy. It could leave. It had to.
“There is no life here,” Nathan said. “Not for you. If there is a way for you to escape, I will get you there.” He held out his hand. “I promise.”
Aron looked at the hand a moment, his fear gradually giving way to hope. He took it, and Nathan felt the first touch of another human's hand. He pulled Aron up and the two left the cave. They turned South, and would not stop until they reached the twenty-first mile.
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