Chapter 4

“A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune,

Upon the desert slope is so impeded

Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,

And may, I fear, already be… lost”

Dante, Inferno, 2.61-64

Dante awoke to see Bogdana already up. She scattered the ashes of their fire about and tried to cover them with dirt, leaves, and pine needles. He stood and looked around. There were some muffled sounds of birds in the distance. Dante sniffed the air and discovered the faint smell of smoke--the same sickly kind as before. It seemed to be coming from the east, the direction from which they had come. They would have to keep heading west, further into the forest.

Bogdana noticed him. “Good morning,” she said. Not friendly, exactly, but not wary or deferent, either, as she had been before. She just seemed comfortably familiar, and a little harried with her activities. Of course, Dante did not know the right tone for someone who’d asked him to rip her open like a fish, if it should become necessary. The tone of someone who’d slept peacefully through the night in physical contact with someone of the opposite sex, but without any talk of romance or guilt between them, was also unknown, disorienting territory. Things were not like this in Florence.

“Good morning,” he returned her simple greeting.

“We shouldn’t have slept at the same time.” She focused on the purely practical. “The walking dead may be in the area. We don’t know how far they’ve spread. They may have been pushed ahead of the army as it moves into the valley. The dead move around at night. They don’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve remembered, but I was just too exhausted to think of it. We’re lucky they didn’t get us. We should be grateful. Perhaps you are favored by God.”

Dante smiled at her. “I don’t know. The pope had me driven from my home. I can never go back to my family or he will have me killed – burned alive, in fact. I don’t feel very favored.”

“The pope? You mean, the anti-Christ?”

Dante hadn’t reckoned with how far east he’d traveled in the last few days. He was now in lands beyond Roman Catholicism, where they were taught a quite different version of history, of who were the heroes or villains of Christendom, of who really held the keys entrusted to Peter. As with so much about this strange, beautiful woman, it put his problems in a different light. “I’m sure you call him that for a different reason than I do, but yes, that is the one.”

“But if you are the enemy of God’s enemy, some would say that makes you His friend.”

“Let us hope so.”

Bogdana brushed the ashes from her skirts and walked over to the horse. “I tried to hide what was left of our fire. I don’t think the dead can track us. They’re not very intelligent or observant about such things, but we shouldn’t leave any unnecessary signs for the soldiers. They’ll be looking to kill anyone they can find, so that the plague doesn’t spread further.”

Dante took some bread and fruit from the saddle bags, and Bogdana gathered some food from the forest. They shared these provisions before Dante mounted the horse and pulled Bogdana up behind him. He nudged the horse and they started off again.

“If we keep heading west, what will we come to, before the mountains?”

“It’s a long valley that runs east-west. It narrows the further west you go. I have heard there are some villages and towns in the valley, but I’ve never been there. Perhaps we should find them, warn them of the approaching army, and ask if the dead are already in the area. Maybe they can help us, or plead with the army commander for mercy. Sometimes they only kill the dead people, and the ones who’ve been bitten by them and are dying.”

Dante tried not to let naïve hope creep into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. As bitter as he could be when alone, something wouldn’t let him be as cynical and despairing in front of other people, and made him seem quite childishly optimistic sometimes.

“Really?”

He could feel her lean back, pulling her head away from him, though her stomach still pressed against him. “Well, not very often. Most of the time they’re quite thorough. Usually the troops surround the city and destroy everything.” Her belly was much more reassuring to him than her words.

“Oh.”

“But maybe we can stay ahead of them. We’ll see.”

“Yes, I suppose we shall.”

“So long as you remember your promise, there isn’t much more we can do.”

“I know. I won’t forget.”

The ground sloped upward slightly as they made their way deeper into the valley. The birds Dante had heard earlier sounded louder, and Bogdana leaned closer to him.