It’s strange to think about now, how so much would have been different had one or two of them been less stubborn, less in love. How the legend would have never risen. How the painting would never be made of her holding her sword high above her head, determination deep in her eyes as she stared down the fire spewing from the dragon’s mouth, the fire stretching from her shoulders like a cloak of flame. How my mother would still be whole. How my brothers and fathers would still be here. How an emperor would never have bent his knee to her. How my own daughters would be by my side, and I would still be back there, living with my husbands. Part of a clan, part of a family, instead of out here, feeding a mob of refugees.

  Chapter XLVII

  After the harvest, my mother woke before all of us. When we came out of our hillhome, she was standing on top of it, in the empty garden, fully harvested. Her sword was in her hand and she wore leather tunic and trousers. They were tight, like a second skin. Her face painted purple and streaks of red through her hair. Ready for war.

  She pointed in the direction the clan had walked and stared down at us, “Go.”

  It stilled me. My breath caught in my throat and I was shaking my head, already denying that we could be apart. That my mother would send me away when she needed me most. When she needed us.

  We stared up at her and Akmuo reached for Medis’ hand but they were too far apart. Then Medis shifted to Akmuo’s side, as if he heard his plea. Medis took Akmuo’s hand and they leaned into one another.

  HoPa and LoPa exchanged looks and HoPa said, “What?”

  She breathed in long through her nose, “Only I will stay. Take our sons and daughter. Take them and go. Run to the clan. Run anywhere. Just get out of here.”

  HoPa shook his head and there were tears in his eyes. That nearly knocked me over. Seeing him so hopeless. So lost. Probably running back to the time my mother left all those years ago. Left him for years, only to return with LoPa. His lips trembled but couldn’t form words, so LoPa took his hand and spoke to mother, “Not without you.”

  “I will fight here. I may die here.”

  “Then we will die with you.” His voice was strong. Neither pleaded nor commanding. Just steady and impassioned.

  Mother’s voice broke then and her expression tumbled into pain, “Our children—”

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  LoPa’s voice rose over hers. It was the only time I had seen my fathers withstand her will. The only time I’d ever seen either of them interrupt her. The only time I ever saw a man interrupt a woman while I lived in the forest. It was shocking and ran sparks over my skin and through my bones. It was something dangerous. He spoke words in a language we didn’t understand, and mother wilted. Her shoulders sagged and my heart raced for her. Elated that she was giving up, terrified to see that she could be defeated. Then he switched to our clan’s language, “You are our heart.” He beat his fist against his chest, then against HoPa’s. HoPa imitated him, weeping. “You are all of our hearts. Your life beats in our chests and our hearts exist for and because of you. We will never leave you.”

  “A dragon—”

  “Fuck the gods!” He shrieked these words. They nearly knocked me to the ground, how fierce his voice had become, how the anger made his angular face demonic. “Fuck all the gods who think they can take us apart. Fuck their fire and fuck their wings! Fuck all the songs and stories. They can’t have you, and they won’t take you from us.”

  “Dain—”

  “No, Vilka. No. Listen to us. We will go nowhere without you by our side. Either you come with us and we all leave, or we stay. We’ll fight this dragon together or die together. As a family.”

  I was so full then. So full of emotion. I could barely even stand. Tears and snot running, but I was smiling, nodding my head at LoPa’s words. We all were.

  We would die with her or live with her, but we wouldn’t live without her.

  Mother cried too. She came down from our home and I ran to her. She lifted me up and held me close. My brothers and fathers folded round me. Their arms and bodies warming me. All of our hearts wrapped round mother’s, beating with hers. Beating because of hers. She shaped us, gave rhythm to our lives. She was our sun. The only one we needed. The one we revolved round.

  Chapter XLVIII

  That night, LoPa made tea for my brothers and me.

  “What do they need tea for?” Mother’s voice was soft, earnest, full of compassion. She held her sword in her hands, gripped tightly.

  “They’ve not been sleeping well since…” His words ran quickly together as he turned to us and smiled, “It’ll help you sleep. Give you good dreams.” His smile seemed jittery. Like it was forced and rapidly shifting from hope and happiness to terror.

  HoPa nodded, “We could all use that.” He turned to my mother who smiled.

  She said, “Make enough for everyone, Dain.”

  LoPa smiled but his hands were shaking so much he kept spilling the tea leaves. He laughed humorlessly as he prepared the tea.

  We all drank. LoPa only pretended, though. He dumped his tea behind him, then yawned. It seemed strange, of course, but I didn’t care.

  We were all together. My brothers folded into one another, the way they slept. I sat between HoPa and mother. Their bodies warming me, giving me shape. The truth is, I didn’t want to be out of mother’s sight. That whole day, I kept her within arm’s reach. Just touching her. Just making sure she was real and with us. Keeping her close. For me, but also to give her strength.

  HoPa said, “That was fast.”

  Mother laughed and so did we.

  The fire glowed. The flames dancing and the night evaporated round me. I was lost in the flickering flames. And when I woke, we were far away.