The first sight of green fell into my soul like sunlight. After the desert and scrublands, the lush valley below was a vision of Paradise. I sat on the rock overlook beside Brygos, grateful that I could take the weight of my water can off my shoulders while we took stock. 

“The hard part will be downhill,” Brygos observed. He sighed, equal parts relief and fatigue. All of us were cold and everyone tired faster at our new altitude. Even going slowly couldn’t completely cure the sickness. 

I smiled as a bee droned over to a bright blue wildflower growing between the cracks in the rock. There was something reassuring in knowing that life still continued on despite everything. “I don’t envy Argyros and the others with hives.”

Brygos chuckled. “Thaïs, what do you think?”

I turned in my seat to look at her. Thaïs paid us no mind, staring down at the valley with wide eyes. I had forgotten that she was a creature of industry and concrete jungle, raised without really setting foot into the countryside. This was a far cry from the cityscape of Seisa or the northern, industrial parts of Astera that had molded her into shape. Taking in the shimmering river, emerald orchards, amber fields, and the blue hue of the mountains all around—it was no wonder awe bloomed across her face like a delicate lily. 

“I suppose it is a pretty picture.” Brygos handed me his lighter as I fished out the rolling papers and tobacco. 

I learned to roll well quickly, as nicotine was a precious resource that I couldn’t afford to lose by dumping it all over myself. It could soothe my nerves better than alcohol and was far more enjoyable. I never enjoyed the loss of control that comes with drinking.

Thaïs gave Brygos a withering look. “You suppose it’s pretty? It’s gorgeous!” 

“I promise it is even better up close. My family used to live in Vlástisí before they moved to Helike, a little village on the north end of the valley.” My hands moved automatically as I spoke, trapping tobacco into a neat little cylinder. “I was young when we moved, but I still remember the smell of growing things and splashing away in the reeds.” 

A brief smile flitted across her face. “I have a hard time imagining a little Karsa playing in the river.”

I flicked the lighter open and touched the hungry flame to the end of my new creation. In a few moments, I exhaled a stream of blue tobacco smoke. The blend Iakkhos had given me was my favorite, with that hint of vanilla and cardamom filling the air. I didn’t answer Thaïs right away. She had only known me as Karsa the revolutionary. Not Karsa the girl, the student, the doting older sister. Despite the sweetness to the tobacco, my lips twisted slightly at the painfully sour thought. My throat tightened as I wished I could play in the river with Endeis one more time. My younger sister’s fate hung like a sword by a thread, ready to sever my splintered heart the moment the news dropped. 

They would never grant her a reprieve.

Brygos bumped me with his shoulder and pointed down the mountainside. “There are trucks coming up the path.” 

“They look too small to be military,” Thaïs said. “Should we hide?” 

I looked around. There were plenty of rock formations around where we could conceal ourselves, but surely they had seen us already. “We should get some people to overlook points and move everything sensitive to cover.”

“Naos and the others who went first already made it to the valley floor. They didn’t radio back a warning.” Brygos rubbed at the back of his neck. “You sure we can’t just meet them face to face?” 

“Better safe than sorry,” I said, levering myself up. “I’ll let everyone know. Thaïs, if you can dig out those binoculars, we can keep a better eye on them.” 

It wasn’t a sophisticated system we had: I scrambled down the mountain to shout at the different little groups of us. By the time the trucks rolled close enough for us to get a good look, everyone had moved off the road and into the rocks, clutching various precious items. Argyros was near us in the rocks, humming to his bees to keep them calm. Even the little creatures seemed more on edge, perhaps reading our own uncertainty. 

Four old, worn trucks rattled up the road, bits of rust flaking from their bumpers. One had been neatly painted by some loving hand, but the rest were left as they were, function more important than fashion. There were a few men and women with rifles in the beds, each one wearing an indigo armband. There was no sign of the red star we’d all been dreading. 

“Thaïs?” I tipped my head meaningfully at the approaching trucks. She was much better at talking to people than I was, not that I was about to let her go alone. 

She nodded, stepping out from the rocks. It was half a walk and half a slide to get down to road level. She waved her jacket as she moved to the attention of the lead driver and team of fighters alike. “Allo!”

I followed behind her, rifle cradled in my arms. I wasn’t about to sling it or set it down until we knew exactly what was going on. 

The brakes squealed as the truck rolled to a halt, which signaled the others behind it to stop as well. One of the young men hopped out of the bed of the truck. He kept his rifle in his arms as well, but pointed it at the ground. One smooth motion would bring it up to our faces, though. “Allo,” he said cautiously. “Who are you and why have you come this way?” 

“We are rebels from Seisa and Raklidí.” Thaïs sounded calm and confident, falling into the role of spokeswoman like she was born into it. “We came to help however we can and find refuge.” 

He looked the pair of us up and down, cocking his head ever so slightly. His face was hard to read, no hint of a smile or a scowl. “We have heard the same from sabotagers. Can you prove it?” 

“Would sabotagers have lugged beehives up a mountainside?” Argyros shouted from the rocks. He stood up, hefting his hive to show the cloud of insects and their white box of a home. 

Our interrogator’s guarded mask cracked into a smile. “Probably not,” he admitted.

“Unless you all happen to be allergic to bee stings?” Thaïs said, offering him her most charming smile. 

The young man chuckled a little. “Fortunately not.” He lowered his rifle and approached, holding out one hand. “Ioudas. You are?” 

She clasped his hand with an easy grip. “Thaïs.” She gestured to me. “This is Karsa.” Then she turned to face the man still holding the white wooden hive. “The lunatic brandishing the bees is Argyros. Argyros, you can put our weapon of mass destruction down now.” 

Argyros looked embarrassed at that remark, ducking back behind the rocks with his bees.

“Are there more of you?” Ioudas asked. 

Thaïs kept up her breezy good humor. “A few. We’re the last of the group following Naos and his ludicrously sized family. I forget how many kids he has running around, not counting the goats.” 

“Ten,” the young man said, sensing the test for what it was. “The youngest is an adorable toddler named Paion. Last I saw him, he was sleeping in my grandmother’s lap.” 

Whatever Thaïs saw as she scrutinized his expression let her shoulders relax for the first time in a long time. “After he probably tore through the house.” 

Ioudas smiled. “The chickens are probably permanently traumatized. Have you eaten yet?” 

“Not yet,” Thaïs said as I gestured for everyone to move out of the rocks. “We have food to share. I think there’s even nut bread with honey left, courtesy of Argyros’s industrious little friends.” 

One of the girls hopping out of the truck’s back beamed at that. “We haven’t had honey in weeks!” 

“The honey is good,” I said, unpacking the bag with food that Brygos had foisted off on me. “Brygos’s baking leaves a little to be desired.”

“Hey!” the man himself grumbled as he approached, a gleam of a smile in his eyes. 

The girl, eyes bright and dark like a sparrow’s, greeted us with a crooked smile. There were a few fresh burns on her face that looked like they’d come from flying brass casings, but other than that there was no sign of hardness to her face. “I’m Ioudas’s sister.”

Ioudas elbowed her. “You have a name, nymph.” 

She stuck out her tongue at him before looking back at us. “Semele.”

I felt a stab at the center of my chest. She looked about as old as Endeis, maybe sixteen or seventeen. “It is nice to meet you, Semele,” I said, offering out the package of waxed paper that held the honey-soaked nut bread. 

Semele took it with one hand, offering us a wrapped loaf of flatbread seasoned with rosemary and layered with sharp goat's cheese melted onto the top. The exchange was as thoughtful as it was symbolic. Sharing food meant peace. The gesture put everyone at ease, and the bread they gave us was heavenly.  

We gathered around, having an impromptu meal at the peak. As the others loaded everything up into the backs of the trucks with the help of Ioudas’s friends, Thaïs and I exchanged a look and readied our questions. 

“Are you going to join the militia?” Semele asked hopefully before we could voice anything. Her cheeks puffed out like a mouse’s, full of the honeyed nut bread. 

“If that is who is defending the valley, yes,” I said. “That is part of why we came.” 

Ioudas nodded approvingly. “Grandmother will want to talk to you all, see what you can do and where we can put you. She’s the speaker for our village.” 

“Speaker?” Thaïs asked. 

“Every village has grandmothers,” Semele explained patiently. “Speakers are the representatives from the village who organize with the other villages.”

Thaïs’s brow furrowed slightly. “Not grandfathers?” Men led everything in most of Astera, even among our people who made their homes beyond the mountains.

“There aren’t many of those. They died in the last war,” Ioudas said more solemnly. “There were a couple of purges through Zelen in the old days. Any man of military age…” 

I knew the history, considering my own family reflected it. I had never enjoyed the experience of a grandfather. “It doesn’t help that they had a loose definition of military age. Plenty of families are missing uncles and brothers.” 

Semele nodded, well aware of the unpleasant history. She seemed surprised that Thaïs wasn’t. “You’re not from around here, are you?” 

Thaïs shook her head. “I grew up in the north. City girl born and raised.” 

Ioudas shrugged a little. “You’ll be one of us soon. Once your sweat and tears hit the soil, your soul will never leave it.” 

My friend turned her head to look down at the valley again, still partially spellbound by the place. “I like the sound of that.” The wistful tone in her voice sounded like homesickness, if for a place she had never been. 

“We should get moving. This part of the valley is secure, but sometimes the army tries to push in strange places, just to test us.” Semele spoke with an authority and confidence well past her age, no doubt earned by the time she’d spent carrying her rifle. She darted off to help Brygos lift his bag of tools into the back of the nearest truck. 

“She’s young to be holding that rifle,” Thaïs commented. 

“We need every hand we can get.” From the reluctance in Ioudas’s words, it was clear he wasn’t certain how he felt about it either. “Besides, you try making her stay home when I go anywhere.” 

“Your parents?” 

Ioudas’s smile died on his lips, his expression abruptly falling back into that guarded neutrality. “Who has those anymore?” He moved away as well to help Argyros with his beehive, but that seemed as much to avoid the conversation as to be genuinely altruistic. 

Thaïs sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. “I hate to see anyone grow up so fast. Particularly with that hanging over their heads.” 

I shrugged slightly, trying to ignore the bubbling thoughts of the last time I’d seen my parents. With Helike hit by the war, I had no idea if I would ever see them again. “The pains that we buried in Seisa are much closer to the surface here.”

“I guess.” Thaïs blew out a sigh. “I don’t know how to feel.” 

I cocked my head at her, but didn’t say anything. I would leave her room to put words to whatever she was feeling or not. Thaïs always responded better to space than pressure, even the gentle kind. 

“I grew up without roots, without knowing about any of this. It feels…not good, but like things make sense…which doesn’t really make sense, I know.” 

“Makes more sense than you would think,” I said, adjusting the strap of my rifle against my shoulder. “Come on. If they’re pulling from the young, they’re fighting harder than I expected. We have our work cut out for us.”