The limping horse moved better at dawn than it had at night. I ran my hand down its cannon bone—no heat, just a knot of old scar tissue. It nickered when I touched the jade, ears flicking like it recognized the pulse.
Xiao Lan watched from the rock, chewing on a strip of dried venison. "You've got a way with beasts. Or with things that eat qi."
"It's not eating," I said, tightening the makeshift girth around its belly. "More like... remembering."
She swung up behind me without asking. The horse shifted under the extra weight but didn't protest. We left the valley at a slow walk, hooves clipping softly on packed earth. Morning fog muffled sound; even the jade felt quieter, content to absorb the slow seep of dew and horse-sweat.
Halfway to the road, the cramp hit again. Not the twisting I'd felt before—this was deeper, like something rearranging my insides. I reined in, breathing through my nose. The vein on my shoulder throbbed in time with my pulse.
Xiao Lan's arms tightened around my waist. "Another shift?"
"Yeah." Sweat prickled my back despite the chill. The qi I'd taken last night was settling, finding permanent homes in my meridians. Some paths opened easy; others fought like weeds.
I closed my eyes, let the horse stand. Images flickered—not memories, more like echoes. The cleaver man's rage when he swung. The way his qi had tasted, sour and desperate. How it had felt to let him go.
When the pain eased, I straightened. The jade was cooler now, the black line across my collarbone fading to a ghost trace. Whatever had moved inside me, it wasn't going back.
We crested the ridge and saw the road—wide, rutted, alive with travelers. Carts loaded with rice sacks, a monk in tattered robes, a merchant arguing with his driver. All heading south, same as us.
Xiao Lan pointed. "Next post-station's two li. We sell the horse, get real food."
We rode down. Heads turned—not at the horse, but at me. Or maybe at the way the jade caught the light, black vein glinting like fresh ink. A few people crossed themselves, muttering about "devourers" and "cursed stones."
The post-station was busy: stable boys running, smells of hot congee and horse dung mixing in the air. I dismounted, led the animal to the rail. A boy no older than me came out, eyes widening at the jade.
"She's sound," I told him. "Just an old leg injury. Moves better than she looks."
He ran a hand down the cannon, nodded. "Five taels?"
I opened my mouth—Xiao Lan elbowed me. "Six, and throw in breakfast."
The boy grinned, missing two front teeth. "Deal."
We ate in the common room: hot rice with pickled vegetables, actual meat in the broth. My stomach didn't cramp once. The jade lay against my chest, quiet but watchful.
As we finished, a group of men at the next table leaned in. One had a scar across his cheek, voice low but carrying.
"...heard Mount Hua's taking recruits early this year. Something about the tournament brackets shifting."
Another grunted. "With all the demonic sect nonsense? They'll take anyone with a pulse."
Xiao Lan's chopsticks paused. She met my eyes, then looked down at my sleeve where the vein hid.
Outside, we walked south again, bellies full, pockets heavier. The road felt different now—not just dirt underfoot, but possibility. Every step carried me further from the stream, the inn, the mill. Further into whatever the jade wanted.
Behind us, the horse whinnied once, like goodbye. I didn't look back.