Road Less Travelled Novels & Stories

Rubbing her brow, she said wearily, "You should head out first." "But, Ms. Thorne—" "I said go!" she snapped, her patience worn thin. Maxwell pressed his lips together. Despite his reluctance, he forced himself to step out. After he left, Beatrice went back to her desk. Looking at the error-filled report, a wave of memories washed over her. Seven years ago, I had also been a rookie starting from scratch. I had neither experience nor an outstanding academic background. Surrounded by applicants far more qualified than I was, I barely stood out at all. Yet somehow, I was the only one who made it through the probation period.

It felt good, but smelling the trees and other vegetation was worth the slight chill. Z laughed. “You look like a puppy out for her first car ride.” “This road must be beautiful,” she said. “Nothing ugly could ever smell this good.” Again, he laughed. “It is a small, two-lane road edged by evergreens and rocky cliffs. It is the back route to where I’m taking you—a road less traveled, though it adds a bit of time to our trip.” “I’m in no hurry,” she said, taking in the fresh scents and crisp air

I’ve been staying off the main roads, sticking to the backroads, taking shortcuts through forests and empty fields whenever I could. The advantage of travelling by foot is that I can cut through terrain where cars can’t go. I’m making good progress, and I can cross the grasslands in a few hours, but I’ll be exposed. I’m tired, and maintaining my shadowing abilities is draining my energy. I can rest here for the night, or I can go now and be at Red Ridge before the sun rises. This road isn’t well-travelled, and the only sign of life along this route is a gas station attached to a small convenience store for people passing through, but I’m sure Kyson has eyes on it.

Our destination sat deep inside what had once been Beta Korr’s territory. Remote. Hidden. One road in and one road out, surrounded by dense mountain forest so thick that sunlight struggled to reach the ground. Old maps showed a lake nearby and unstable terrain—marsh in some places, steep cliffs in others. Boats could likely access portions of the property. Clearly, despite what the maps showed, roads weren’t the only way in. Or out. Places built this far from civilization usually had reasons for existing. And privacy was often one of them. We traveled in smaller groups, each taking a separate route. If one team disappeared, the others would know. River recommended it.

The bustling city is filled with smells and sounds that I had forgotten during the treacherous journey. The thousands of colours that paint my diverse kingdom and the equally diverse people who bring it to life and give it meaning. The ones who give me meaning. There are five main roads that point in the direction of each of our neighboring countries, a sign of peace amongst us, but the Pasiphaen route had been empty since the day of the massacre.

He walks on the opposite side of the path, keeping pace with me but also keeping his distance, for the next mile, then the next, until the road forks. The road into the Roguelands is nothing more than a strip of gravel that bleeds into dirt, then a nearly impassable network of roping vines and rocks big enough to stop most vehicles. The remains of small villages peak through thick, dark trees, but we’re alone. Birdsong is the only sound as we follow the remains of a very old road, something I’m sure was used to connect these ghost villages during my grandfather's time here. Soren eventually cuts off the road, following an overgrown wolf trail, murmuring something about staying out of sight,

The occasional car that we pass looks damaged and shows obvious signs of wear. Many of them have been pushed off the road and into the ditches, probably by emergency response vehicles or army tanks. A few times, Ryder has to slow the truck down and maneuver around another truck that juts out into the road, but those situations are few and far in-betweens. The roads out here aren't like they were in the big cities-all cluttered and impossible to pass. A smaller statewide population seems to really be working in our favor, in more ways than one. We can do this...there's nothing that will stop us or stand in our way.

Then they continued on their way. Hope smiled. "They've never met us." "No." Caelum smiled too. "But perhaps they've met someone who met someone who did." Light travels in ways maps cannot measure. The Lantern of Beginnings chimed once. One of the tiny circles on the map grew slightly brighter. Not because we had done something. Because someone else had. Far away. Beyond our sight. Noah quietly wrote, "The strongest roads are the ones that no longer need builders." Nobody interrupted him. It was true.

As Dev’s train pulled into the crossroad that evening, the beautiful mouth-watering aroma of a delicious curry floated in through the bars, one that immediately reminded him of home and of his mother’s cooking. His taste buds tingled as it strongly brought to mind that divine, crispy, golden bhature and tangy chole masala he had two weeks ago when he had visited his mom. There were many households in that area and it was hard to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from, that is, until, the train stopped right across Bhoomika’s house.

Mira navigated. The eastern route was narrower older roads, less traveled, with the specific quality of routes that had been used before the main roads were built and were still here for those who needed them. The bond was getting stronger with every mile. Not just in the gaps now the interference itself was thinning. Whatever had been pressing against the signal from outside was still there but less opaque, the way very thick glass became slightly less thick as you approached the other side of it. I could feel him. Consistently.