Chapter 24
Prairie Fire
Dawn was thin. The wind carried blood and powder.
The column dragged out along the gravel slope in a long line. Two fighters up front carried a stretcher—the bandage on the wounded man's shoulder already black with blood; he grunted now and then when the ride jarred him. Four more carried a second stretcher cobbled together for the trip. The fighter on it was wrapped in canvas. The bearers heard only boot soles scraping gravel. Nobody spoke.
Lila walked near the front, glancing back over the line now and then.
Eren carried Nova in the middle. The boy lay on his back in Lila's cloak, head tipped, half asleep. Every so often a kick caught Eren's side wound; Eren only frowned and said nothing.
Lin Ce walked near the front, two fighters bracing him. The notebook stayed against his chest—he had not let go of it once. After so long in their hands he was worn thin; his knees gave more than once.
After more than an hour, a few figures waited in a hollow below the slope. The white-haired man among them stood out straight and clear. White Wolf was there with a handful of fighters left behind, gear crates and canteens set at their feet.
Lila went ahead and gave him the short version. White Wolf nodded, looked once longer at the rear stretcher, then tipped his head at Eren.
"Everyone's here. Into the mountains."
The path narrowed. Not far in, two open sentries seemed to grow out of the rock and shadow. One was nested in a hollow, gray-brown jacket, still as stone until you looked twice. The other squatted high up, traded a hand signal with the lead fighter, and waved them through.
From outside you would miss the valley. Collapse rubble hid most of the mouth; only inside did the ground open wide.
Buildings were few. Sheet-metal sheds leaned into the cliff, half set into old mine mouths, some with canvas roofs. One two-story old plant had been patched; boards sealed most of the windows, light leaking through the cracks.
At the gate a sentry knew White Wolf and opened without much talk.
Noise from inside rolled out and cut the dust-smell of the road.
Inside the hollow, people were everywhere—dozens at a rough count. Between sheds, along walls, in the open ground: repairing weapons, hauling gear, drilling.
Heads came up at the sound. Eyes found the stretchers. No shout. Nobody crowded in. They only looked down and went quiet.
White Wolf left the meet-and-settle to the others and did not break stride—straight up the iron stairs of the old plant.
On the second floor, a wood door faced with iron plate, a guard outside. Across the corridor Eren saw into the room: White Wolf at a desk buried in papers, a man seated opposite.
The man looked about fifty, lean. A washed-out gray coat. Wire-rim glasses on his ears, one temple a little loose. He kept pushing the frames up with a finger.
At the far end of the corridor, medics took Lin Ce toward the first-floor infirmary. The leather notebook finally went to a gloved medic; with both hands empty, Lin Ce did not seem to know where to put them.
White Wolf came out of the command room, glanced at Eren, then at Lila.
"Lila—get those two settled. Let them rest."
Lila nodded and tipped a hand at Eren and Nova. "Come on. I'll put you up first."
They followed her down to a small room against the cliff wall on the first floor. Stone on all four sides, old paper and oilcloth for damp. Two wood beds faced each other, a crate between them for a table—guest quarters, of a sort.
Lila pushed the door and swept the room once. "It's rough. Make do. Bedding's clean. Water's at the end of the hall."
"Thanks, ma'am…" Nova was done. Shoes still on, he hit the bunk and folded into the cloak.
"Don't ma'am me." Lila flicked him a look and left them to rest.
When she came back she had a coarse clay bowl and some food, set on the crate. From a pocket she pulled a clean strip of gauze and handed it to Eren.
"Wrap it again. That cloth's black." She leaned on the doorframe.
Eren took the gauze and unwound the old strip at his side. After the long walk the wound had split again—edges pale and swollen, blood and mud mixed in the seep.
She watched him finish the wrap, then tapped his shoulder once, light.
Her hood was already off.
He could see the lines of brow and nose—the kind of cut common in Latin faces. Honey-brown skin still looked clean and bright even in the room light.
"Once you've got your wind back, I'll show you around so you don't wander into the wrong places."
She stretched, tipped her head and rubbed her neck. "Fifteen minutes. We'll be done."
A while later the light outside had strengthened, but sun only reached the highest rock walls of the hollow; the floor stayed in shadow.
Lila walked ahead along the dirt track through the shed rows. She pointed at a line of low sheds on the left. "Warehouses. Don't poke around in there." Then at a locked sheet-metal hut by the old plant: "That one either."
They passed an open yard where three young fighters were training—one on push-ups, two fiddling with bows and crossbows. In a crate by the wall lay thick bolts, tips set with dark-gray Crystone chips. Eren looked a beat longer.
Lila followed his eyes. "Explosive bolts. New kit. Don't touch—they'll blow."
The weapons-and-gear shed stood half open. A long table inside was stacked with arms and gear. In the corner a small forge squatted, a blue-glowing lump of Crystone built into the hearth. Someone was bent over a crossbow arm, scraping rust. Wood hooks on the wall held wrenches and parts of every size.
Farther on stood the main building. Outside the gable wall, a wood pole thick as a bowl's mouth held a broad black banner under two iron bands, edges chewed pale by the wind.
Eren stopped to look. Below center, a wide smear of ash spread uneven, edges ragged—hand-rubbed hearth ash and charcoal dust, not a print. Red flecks sat in the ash, some bean-sized, some like grains of rice, darkened by the sun—like live coals someone had just scraped out of the gray.
"That's the Ash Army banner. Some call it the greyfire banner." Lila saw him staring and filled it in.
Her voice finished; she was already turning.
Around the bend, the track ended at a wire-fenced garden. Narrow beds of limp greens, but tended with care, and water in the ditches.
Lila paused a step.
Under the fence a skinny dog lay flat, gray-yellow coat matted, hind leg in a splint, nose working a chipped wood bowl.
"You sneak out again?" She squatted and scratched its head twice. The dog looked up; its tail thumped the dirt twice. She dug half a hard biscuit from her pocket, broke off a scrap, and tossed it. The dog caught it and crunched away.
"Picked it up on patrol a while back." She stood and brushed crumbs off her hands. "Hind leg in a trap. We set the bone. Whether it walks clean again is on the dog."
Eren watched scraps fall from the whiskers and said nothing.
He had kept a dog once—before the Impact.
On the way back Lila took two coarse clay cups off a low wall, dipped well water from a wood barrel under the eaves, and handed one to Eren.
"That kid of yours—Nova, right?" She drank, back to the wall.
"Mm."
"Your son?" She tipped her head, a little probe in it.
Eren looked up. "No. We fell in together on the road."
Lila blinked. "You don't look like the type who'd pick up a kid."
His mouth moved; he had nothing ready. In the end he only smiled.
She drank again, easy as chat. "What did you do before? You move well. Soldier?"
Eren pinched the rim of the cup, waited a beat. "No. Transport, more or less. Onboard security for self-driving freighters."
"Oh. Heard of that," Lila said.
He raised the cup to his lip and set it down. "You?"
She tipped her head. "Student."
"Figures. You don't look old enough—wouldn't have graduated yet."
"I was sixteen. School wasn't done. Impact hit, home was gone. Nearly didn't make it on the road. White Wolf pulled me out." She shrugged. "Been with him since."
She tipped her head at him. "You? Anyone left at home?"
"Can't remember," he said.
She watched him two beats and let it go. She shifted the cup to her other hand and eyed his left. "Drop it. What's with that hand? And Nova's ears. You two don't look ordinary."
Eren tightened on the rim. "I don't know either. That's why I need your scientist."
"…All right. I'll ask for you later." She saw he would not say more and left it. She tipped back the last of the water and set the cup on the low wall.
They walked the same track back. At the guest-room door Lila pushed it open for him and stopped on the threshold.
She took two steps away, then stopped again, still not turning.
"Last night. Thanks."
The words were barely out before she was around the corner.
Eren watched her go, smiled once, and went in. Nova was still asleep; he rolled, and the cloak slid to the floor. Eren picked it up, settled it over the boy, and sat on the other bed.
A little later a young fighter came with a message: "Scientist Lin's ready. He wants you."