Figurehead

seven

The circle of militia around the fire has lessened, since several of them have left to patrol Kalsemir. Pev said they'd return around the time I leave tomorrow morning. Those still here don't seem to care when I unroll my pallet, my sheet, my pelt, the few clothes I brought with me, laying them in the dust by the warmth of the flames.

I didn't bring much else with me, only a waterskin and wrapped handful of dried fruit. I had more when I set out from Anshakim with Nirs, but a lot I left with Eler.

I stand, holding the half-empty waterskin, my cloak still damp, and one of the soldiers looks up at me. "Going somewhere?" she asks.

I nod. "Is there a well nearby?"

She stands and nods. "I'll show you." She pushes past the others, who are still finishing off the evening meal. I follow. "Pretty stupid of you to come alone and then think you can wander off at night alone," she says, once we're outside. It isn't raining, for now.

I shrug, but she isn't looking at me, moving silently with purpose and speed. "I was supposed to come with another trusted messenger-"

"They ditched you?" she asks. She has a blunt way of speaking that manages not to be unpleasant. She glances back at me, raising her eyebrows, and I shake my head.

"I told her to stay in Aranakiu-"

"You're so clever-"

"-to help out with harvesting whatever they can before Dre begins," I finish off, as if she made no interruption.

She passes through a clump of trees and stops, leaning against the well. It's in pretty good condition, considering how rundown a lot of the dwellings are. "That's considerate of you," she says unexpectedly. I look up to see her tossing and catching a dagger before I turn back to the well.

"Thanks, I guess," I mutter, unsure if she's sarcastic as I haul the bucket up.

She sighs. "How is Aranakiu faring?" There is a note of wistfulness in her question. She probably came from there, then.

"Not doing so well," I say, my voice echoing as I lean over, filling my waterskin. "So many fields haven't been harvested yet. It won't be long before they rot or get destroyed in Mif."

I straighten and face her with a nod, and she begins heading back to the house. "Not much has changed, then," she murmurs, almost to herself.

"When did you come here?"

"Four Dre ago." I'm thankful she doesn't see me gape.

To know that not much has changed in four Dre- It means that over the past Dre, fields have gone unharvested. Crops have either rotted or been destroyed by the winds, by the hail, by the snow and storms. To know that so much livelihood has been lost in four Dre, that this is not a recent thing-

"Was there any livestock?" Her voice is quiet. Flat.

"Not really," I sigh heavily. She nods to herself.

We walk in silence, each in our own thoughts.

I sit cross-legged by the firepit, watching as the spark I kindled grows, igniting, burning, consuming the snapped twigs and slivers of branches around it. My belongings are relatively dry, bundled tightly and strapped to my back. My cloak is dry too, for which I am grateful.

Pev is nowhere to be seen, and there are only the soldiers who returned a few moments ago from their patrol. All asleep. The soldier who led me to the well sits on her pallet, fully armed and armoured, watching over them. She ignores me, fortunately. I don't want to imagine what she's seen here, what she's had to do and what- who- she has lost or seen fall, either at her hands or at another's. I could never be a soldier, my stomach too weak for it, my hesitance, reluctance too great. Those pallets were stained with dry blood.

I shift my gaze from the fire to the open door. The sky is pale, still grey with the remnants of night, but it is not raining. I sigh quietly and rise to my feet, checking I have Pev's sealed message with me before I glance back at the soldier on guard, meeting her grey gaze.

We nod at each other before I turn away and start walking, leaving the house behind me for the Kalsemir-Aranakiu border. I try not to wonder if we will ever meet again, or if she will ever see this war finished. I try not to wonder who she left behind in Aranakiu, who I might see who knew her and wonders how she is. I'm glad I don't know her name, for this reason. She can't have been so much older than me.

It is easier to breathe with the road to Kalsemir and the war behind me, although I can't help but keep glancing over my shoulder every now and then. At least not knowing her name means she won't haunt me if some of the Aranakiu ask after relatives who joined the fight. Maybe she knew that too.

Or maybe she knew there wasn't any point in telling me her name anyway.

I don't think I'm much of an optimist.