DAY 17

Amy stirred in the growing light and was instantly awake. We're crossing the mountains today, she told herself, with a mixture of excitement and dread. By nightfall we could be past the biggest barrier keeping us from the Academy. Or we could make a big mistake within sight of a farmer and be caught and enslaved for life.

For the moment, she didn't want to move. It felt too comfortable. It had taken some time, last night, with darkness falling, to find a position soothing enough for Puppy so that she stayed there quietly. At last Runner and Puppy had settled in, facing each other on their sides, with Puppy's head down at Runner's breast level so she could suck on one. Amy was curled up against Runner's back, her right thigh comfortably squeezed between Runner's, both of them having their right arms draped over Puppy's shoulder, holding hands, their fingers intertwined. Amy wasn't sure exactly what memory from Puppy's past allowed her to lie contentedly with Runner's breast in her mouth. It was possible there were some lactating doggirls, though she hadn't read about that. Runner hadn't been eager to have those teeth anywhere near her breast, until Amy discovered they were less sharp than they looked. The filing had rounded the tips, so that they weren't actually that much sharper than a normal incisor. They were designed to look dangerous, while leaving the girl able to eat without slicing up her own lips.

At last Runner moved and stretched. Amy kissed the back of her neck and sat up, stretching as well. Puppy made a quiet yipping sound, gave Runner's breast a last lick and rolled up to her feet, leaning across Runner to lick Amy's face. Amy laughed and stroked her. That's the only way she's shown us of displaying affection, Amy told herself. Maybe the only one she has. Runner, at first, had used mainly her tongue, but also used caresses, not just with her arms and hands but with her legs and feet as well, something Amy was now doing more of. Each of us has taught the other some things, Amy thought. Wonder if we could teach Puppy some new responses. She's physically a little limited, though.

After breakfast and elimination of wastes -- Puppy, Amy noticed, peed against the base of a tree with one leg upraised, dog-like behavior again, though Amy doubted Puppy was "marking" the tree in the canine sense -- it was time to get ready.

Runner dressed in her usual clothes. Amy reminded her, "The whip, remember."

Runner said, "Oh, right!" and retrieved the whip from her bag, wrapping it around her arm the way they had seen the boy a few days ago carrying his. "What else?"

Amy bit her lip, thinking. "We need to lift the cart up over the step here before we get me tied to it." Amy had seen, in the distance, that there was a ramp cut into the step across from the start of the trail, so that wagons could roll up the three-foot elevation difference between the forest and the road at the foot of the mountains. The ramp, however, was located in the middle of the farm co-op across from the trail, and Amy was leery of passing through farms, too close to too many people.

They watched the road for several minutes, but could see nobody yet on the road in either direction, and nobody on the trail. The road was never crowded at any time, and it was a little early in the morning to expect much activity. Both of them grunting with the effort, they lifted up the cart, Amy deciding belatedly it would have been easier to empty it of peaches first and then refill it.

Amy lifted Puppy up next, who walked around afterwards, looking puzzled but staying nearby. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself, knowing she was, for the first time, exposing herself to easy observation should anyone happen to be looking, Amy climbed up herself, with Runner beside her. Runner draped the strap of the bag over Amy's shoulder, then worked on securing Amy to the cart.

There were short chains attached to the handles of the cart. Amy didn't want to mess with padlocks for which the keys might be lost, so they used vines running through the links of the chains to secure her hands to the handles. From any but the closest distance it looked as though the chains themselves were attached to Amy's wrist cuffs.

Runner gave Amy a questioning look. Amy took another deep breath and nodded. Runner started walking, angling her path towards the road. Amy followed her, as Puppy, full of early-morning energy, pranced around them. Amy hoped it looked like something a doggirl would be doing, and reminded herself that, in fact, if any situation called for Puppy to act like a doggirl, she was certainly qualified.

Minutes later they were at the foot of the trail, starting up its not-quite-gentle slope. Amy, as they began climbing to positions progressively more exposed to view from below, became proportionately more aware of her nudity, revealing as it did her female body in a culture where being female was the most dangerous possible thing to be. Any number of men in the farm co-op directly below could at this instant be giving her at least a passing glance -- the first time, as far as she knew, that any male had seen her in more than two weeks on the island. She couldn't stop herself from hunching her shoulders in a fruitless attempt to hide herself somehow. Since she was not wearing her trap-evading vine tied around her waist, as it was neither needed nor advisable here, she felt all the more uncovered. It had come to feel something like a garment in the time she had been wearing it. It, and the more elaborate vine she and Runner used for hanging practice, were coiled at the bottom of the bag Amy was carrying.

Within minutes, her leg and arm muscles were starting to complain about the amount of work she was doing, climbing the trail, pulling the cart. Her hobble chain was also dragging, for the first time in weeks. Though the trail was impressively smooth, with only slight ruts from who knew how many passing wagons, her chain occasionally was held back by minor projections, and she lifted her feet as she walked, making the climb still more laborious. Amy suspected she was much better off pulling a relatively small cart, peach-laden though it was, rather than pushing one of those heavy wagons. As it was, she could tell she was going to be very tired at the top.

Puppy had settled into following behind Amy. Perfect, thought Amy. That's the way we've been seeing it. There was another chain in the bag that could be used as a leash if necessary. Amy had no idea how Puppy would take to being led by a leash, or how unusual it might appear if they had to use one. Amy hoped it wouldn't come to that.

A moderate rain began when they were about a quarter of the way up. Amy noted it only as an ingredient of the environment, realizing that a few weeks ago she probably would have thought, "Oh, maybe we should wait for a nicer day for this." There were no nicer days, and Amy was thoroughly used to being rained on. It was a relief, actually, as it did a much better job of cooling her than her sweat was doing. She was actually glad of her extreme haircut, under the circumstances. Two weeks of constantly wet hair, frequently whipped around by the wind in front of her eyes, hadn't been pleasant.

When they reached the level passing area at the halfway point, Runner stopped and reached into the bag, withdrawing several pre-sliced peaches. Puppy had been whining for several minutes, and was most likely thirsty, if not hungry. Runner knelt and fed her several peaches, which appeared welcome. With another handful of peaches she fed Amy, and ate a few herself.

Amy saw, at the base of the trail, a full wagonload pushed by a six-girl team, just beginning the ascent. It shouldn't matter, she decided. They're not going to catch up with us.

She winced as Puppy began whining in a different way, one Amy recognized. She whispered to Runner, "She wants sex. We can't do that here. We've got people watching." She gestured with her head to the wagon down below.

Runner gave Amy a worried look. "What should I do?"

Amy looked at Puppy, and whispered back, "Give her a few hugs and talk to her. Tell her we'll do it later. I don't know if she'll understand, but I think she'll get a feeling we understand her."

Runner knelt beside Puppy and gave her a squeeze, stroking her hair, rubbing her cheek against Puppy's, saying softly, "You'll just have to wait awhile, Puppy. Follow us now and we'll be really, really nice to you later." She gave Puppy one last kiss on the cheek, stroked her hair again and stood up. Immediately she resumed climbing the trail, and Amy followed behind her. Looking back, Amy could see Puppy watching them briefly, her lower lip pushed out in a very human sad girlish pout, before she sighed and followed.

The view was breathtaking.

The trail, at its summit, flattened out to form at plateau about thirty feet wide. Ahead, Amy looked down on a rolling sea of green tree-tops, with occasional islands of cleared ground, a few buildings visible surrounding the farmland of the clearings -- more such clearings than Amy could see behind her in an otherwise similar prospect. Beyond that was the deep gray of the ocean, whitecaps of waves near the shore gradually thinning to monochrome sea in the distance. Amy, for the first time, was able to perceive visually her placement on a small, isolated island in a world otherwise containing nothing but unbroken water. As high as she was, Amy could still see no indication of land at the end of the sea. Looking east, Amy's homeland lay two hundred miles in that direction, and its invisibility, beyond water stretching on seemingly forever, brought home to Amy how very far she was from the world she knew. A flash of anger passed through her, at Andrew leaving her here so helpless, endangered, and alone, followed by near despair at how much difficulty still remained in getting to safety.

I'm not alone anymore, though, she reminded herself. I have friends. Andrew never imagined that.

Barely audibly, in an awestruck voice, Runner said, "It's like you said, Amy. The other side of the mountains looks just like where we came from." She pointed. "Is that the water? It looks so different from up here. I couldn't see so much of it before. It's so... so big!" She looked at Amy, gesturing out to sea. "If you go far enough, there's trees and ground again? Where the Academy is?"

Amy nodded. "We'll go there. In a boat."

Runner squinted. "What does a boat look like? Is there one out there?"

Amy squinted as well. "Not right now. Not close enough to see, anyway."

Behind them, Puppy was whining more insistently now. Amy bit her lip. She wasn't sure Puppy would keep following them if she wasn't getting what she needed.

Amy could see the team of slavegirls following them, trudging up the slope. Amy and Runner had easily outdistanced them, and the wagon hadn't reached the halfway point yet. Ahead, the trail down the other side was clear. "Runner, untie my hands. We need to take care of Puppy."

To the right was a jumble of rocks that would hide them from view. As soon as Amy was free, she started backing towards it, facing Puppy. "Do you want sex, Puppy?"

Puppy barked, suddenly excited. Another new word she now understood.

All this vocabulary she's picking up, Amy said to herself, and it would just never occur to her to try to shape the same words with her own throat. She doesn't even know about nodding or shaking her head, Amy realized. She barks in place of nodding. She barks in place of any number of things. Amy wondered if, failing at teaching her to speak, they might, over time, at least teach Puppy some normal human body language. Or is it too late for that too?

Runner joined her, crouched down among the rocks, giving Puppy some much needed attention.

Minutes after starting down the trail, Amy sucked in her breath as she spotted a wagon on the road below. She swore to herself, wishing they could retreat to the effective cover of the rocks at the crest of the trail. But at this point the driver below would see her and the others turning, and there was also the wagon coming up behind them, the driver of which would wonder what had become of them. She whispered, "There's..."

"I see them. What do we do?" Runner was slowing.

"We have to keep going. Are you ready, on those things I told you?"

Runner gulped. "I think so."

By the time they reached the broad level passing area halfway down the mountain, the wagon below had turned onto the trail and started up. Amy said, more softly than before, "We need to stop here and wait."

"I know." Runner was already on the flattened area, walking towards the side to give the wagon room to pass.

Amy stopped several feet ahead of her, and waited as Runner carefully adjusted her position. It was raining slightly harder, Amy noted.

She tried to still her trembling. Did I make this too complex? she fretted. Maybe nothing will happen, she thought hopefully. He might just nod and pass on.

Amy suddenly remembered the mental trick she had used for her Academy interview, in what seemed two lifetimes ago. She said in a low voice, knowing the spattering of the rain would prevent the sound from carrying any farther than Runner, "Runner, tell yourself this. Imagine it's my voice in your head telling you. I'll be saying this has already happened. All you're doing is remembering it happening. Waiting here, meeting the farmer, talking to him... imagine it's all over, it happened yesterday, and all you're doing now is remembering it. It went very well. Nothing bad happened. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Runner gulped and nodded briefly. "I get it." Over the next few minutes she seemed to grow more calm. As she reached into the bag, her fingers, Amy saw, weren't trembling now. Runner ate one sliced peach, fed one to Amy, and knelt to feed Puppy, stroking Puppy and receiving face licks in return.

As they waited, it must have occurred to Runner, Amy saw, that Puppy should be kept occupied, as the one member of the party who had no idea what was going on. Runner picked up a small, rounded pebble, rubbed some dirt off it with her vest, and knelt again, holding it up in front of Puppy. As soon as she had Puppy's full attention, Runner tossed the rock a short distance, and said, "Go get it, Puppy!"

Puppy, with an excited yelp, scrambled to follow the rock, and returned with it in her mouth. She started towards Amy with it, and Runner quickly said, "No, over here." As Puppy dropped it into Runner's hand, Runner tossed it again.

I'm sure this is okay, thought Amy. We didn't teach her this game. She came already knowing it, so it must be familiar behavior in doggirls. It's going to look perfectly normal to that farmer.

As the wagon approached, Amy looked straight ahead, leaving her unable to watch Runner. She repeated over and over to herself, keep it together, Runner.

Two nights ago, after finishing their plans for capturing a doggirl, Amy and Runner had planned farther ahead, for the eventuality that they might meet a farmer on the trail. Now they would see whether their preparations were sufficient.

As Amy had feared, the farmer slowed his slaves to a halt as he came abreast of the "boy and his slave" waiting for them to pass. He hopped down from the wagon's driver's seat, stretching his leg muscles as if he'd been sitting too long. At least he's smiling, Amy observed. Rain was dripping from the brim of his hat. Obviously he thought nothing of it.

One issue that had worried Amy was the possibility that any farmer they met might conceivably be the one to whom Puppy had belonged. The likelihood was small, and in any case Amy didn't know what could be done about it. It appeared, however, that there was no problem on that score -- he showed no sign of recognizing her.

The man also gave Amy herself barely a passing glance, leaving her with mixed feelings of relief and affront. I do look just like a slave, she told herself, glad again of her industrial-strength haircut. And this guy is surrounded by naked women every day. Amy was proud of the body she'd worked hard to sculpt. But, she reminded herself, all the women work hard here.

The six slavegirls pushing the wagon stood at attention. Amy tried to make her expression match their blank ones.

The farmer nodded to Runner, standing behind Amy. "Awt hair boy yosalf, sawnny?"

Amy nearly fainted as she suddenly realized they had dodged an overlooked potential disaster. It wasn't anything about the way she and Runner looked. Amy, from years of sunbathing in the Academy courtyard and occasional use of the tanning bed, had a uniform skin tone, without tan lines that would instantly have given her away. Her skin was indeed a shade darker than most of the slavegirls Amy had seen here, in this land with relatively little sunshine, but she was within acceptable limits. Runner's significantly darker skin was less striking than her islander facial features, but given that there were any original island genes floating around at all, there had to be some males who looked like her.

But with all the thought Amy had put into what a farmer would see when he looked at them, she had just not thought about accents! Amy had grown accustomed to Runner's speech patterns, as she was the only person Amy had to converse with, day after day, and the accent had receded from Amy's conscious observation. Until this moment, Amy had somehow never focused on the possibility that the men of the island wouldn't sound like that, and that Runner's accent would mark her as a product of the breeding pens, somehow running free. But now Amy heard a farmer speak, for the first time, and his speech had that same vowel shift. Maybe that's how everybody spoke over a century ago, when the Purists left the mainland, she thought now. In any case, there's no reason this man will think Runner isn't the boy she appears. But this could have gone so horribly wrong.

Amy's familiarity with the accent enabled her to translate easily the man's friendly "Out here by yourself, sonny?"

All of this passed through Amy's mind in an instant, and she remembered herself quickly enough to give Runner the signal, though the question here was easy enough that Runner probably didn't need it. Indeed, Runner was already saying, "Yes, sir," before Amy started the beckoning curl of her index finger that would signal "Yes" to Runner.

Amy's hope had been that polite conversation between an older man and a boy he'd never met would consist mainly of yes-no questions and friendly observations. In case Runner didn't know how to respond, Amy would give her hand signals, which Runner could catch out of the corner of her eye while looking at the man rather than directly at Amy.

The man smiled. "Your daddy taught you old-fashioned. I like that." Amy could only guess he was reacting to Runner's "sir," perhaps a rarely-used honorific on the island today. Another bullet dodged, thought Amy. Runner was just within the bounds of normal speech.

Before Runner could reply -- she may have been waiting for another sign from Amy -- the man went on, "You headed for one of the towns?"

Amy quickly gave the finger curl again, and heard Runner say again, "Yes, sir."

"Which one?"

Amy held her hand with all fingers splayed apart. Behind her, Runner said, "I don't know, sir."

The man smiled again. "Ain't been to any before?"

Amy waved her index finger from side to side. Runner responded, "No, sir."

The man nodded. "You try to get yourself to Purity Town, then. Biggest one. Lots for a boy to see on his first big adventure."

"Yes, sir. How do I get there?"

Amy blinked. No prearrangement had suggested the latter sentence. Runner had done it on her own.

"No trouble. You just follow the signs when the trail branches."

Amy signaled, and Runner said "Yes, sir" once more.

Amy tensed as one of the wagon's two doggirls jumped down from the open tailgate and approached. This one was a redhead, significantly older than Puppy, perhaps thirty, probably a much-traveled veteran. Amy now saw that Puppy, who had been directly behind her, now approached the oncoming doggirl.

As Amy watched the interaction out of the side of her eye, trying not to react, Puppy and the other doggirl met and licked each other's faces briefly, Puppy making a soft whimpering sound that Amy took to be a sign of submissiveness. The farmer's second doggirl remained in the wagon, looking on. This one was younger, probably early twenties. Possibly, Amy decided, the older one was taking advantage of seniority.

The redhead now turned and faced directly away from Puppy, spreading her legs apart and arching her back downward for a purpose that soon became obvious: she was bringing her pussy into position for Puppy to lick. She barked once. Puppy quickly approached her from behind.

The farmer looked irritated. "No, no, we ain't got time for that." He bent and gave his redheaded doggirl a light swat on the butt. "Get back in the wagon, Princess. We're headed off."

The girl, looking disappointed, obediently trotted back to the wagon and hopped up onto the tailgate. The second doggirl, probably recognizing her elder was going to be irritable for a time, licked the redhead's face, whining softly.

The man looked at Runner and put the side of his index finger against his forehead in what Amy suspected was a friendly salute of departure, like waving goodbye. Amy couldn't see whether Runner returned it, but the man seemed satisfied. Resuming his seat on the wagon, he picked up his whip and flicked it against the backside of the front right slavegirl. "Let's go." The girl had no visible reaction other than to begin pushing the wagon forward, along with the other girls.

As Amy turned to watch their departure, she could see Runner, standing with her eyes closed, one finger hooked under Puppy's collar to keep her from following. She was breathing deeply, her mouth open, looking as if she were trying not to faint.

Amy said softly, "Runner? Runner? Let's go."

Runner opened her eyes. They were bright, and her mouth curled in a huge grin. Apparently not trusting her voice, she mouthed to Amy, "We did it, Amy!!" She dropped down to give Puppy a hug, laughing as Puppy licked her face as usual. Then, beaming at Amy, and brushing her hand on Amy's hip as she passed, she walked on ahead down the trail.

As the trail leveled off at the foot of the mountain, Amy saw the signpost to which the farmer had referred -- a wooden two-by-four standing vertically, embedded in the ground, with boards at its top facing in several directions naming the towns they were pointing to. As on the west side, there was a road along the foot of the mountains. According to the sign, following the road north would take one to the towns of Purity and Freedom, presumably with future signs to tell a traveler which fork to take. Going south one would arrive at Liberty or Fairhold. Going east, a path directly into the forest would take one to Tradition.

Amy, seeing no way to stop and confer with Runner while they could still easily be seen, continued relying on Runner to lead the way. She saw Runner look at the signpost in passing, after which Runner took the eastbound road into the forest.

After a hundred yards, with no oncoming wagons or other travelers visible, Runner beckoned to Amy and ducked into the forest, far enough that they were soon invisible from the road. Amy followed, pulling the cart with difficulty over the rough ground and around trees.

Runner turned to Amy then, with that same big grin as before, and wrapped her arms tightly around her, jumping up and down in excitement. "We made it Amy, we're here, we're here!" She broke off the hug and untied Amy's hands from the cart handles.

Amy's arms automatically folded around Runner, and her lips met Runner's for a long kiss.

Puppy, catching the mood, barked several times, bouncing from side to side on her forearms. Both laughing, Amy and Runner dropped down beside Puppy and gave some well-earned attention to her sensual needs. Once Puppy was exhausted, Runner slipped off her clothes, and she and Amy turned back to each other for some serious lovemaking.

Amy loved the feeling of her rain-slick skin sliding against Runner's.

As they lay in each other's arms after sex, their energies spent, Amy asked Runner, "What made you decide to go to Tradition?" The farmer had recommended Purity, though for reasons that didn't really apply to them.

Runner gave her a stumped look. "What?"

"To the town named Tradition. We're headed there."

"How do you know that?"

"That's what the sign said. I saw you look at it."

Runner's brows wrinkled. "Was that that thing stuck in the ground?"

Amy nodded. "It said this road led to Tradition."

Runner's puzzled expression deepened. "It did? I didn't hear it say anything."

Amy choked back a laugh, covering it with a cough. She didn't want to seem to be laughing at Runner, especially as her chagrin was really directed at herself. Until now, in the absence of anything that needed reading, Amy had never stopped to think about whether Runner could read. Now, at last, Amy was able to tell herself, of course she can't! Where would she have learned? And it went well beyond that. Runner, in fact, did not even imagine the concept of reading, had no idea that people could communicate information silently by drawing lines and curves that didn't look like any physical object.

But she loved learning things. Amy had seen that from the start.

Amy kissed her again. "When we get back to the Academy, there's going to be a lot of new stuff you can learn. Besides hanging."

Runner's eyes lit up. "We're closer, aren't we? Where do we go now?"