A shout drew Ferene’s attention when she was knee-deep in the lake, searching the shallows for seed pods of a plant that Tilhana had shown her the day before. Standing up, she looked towards the source of the sound, seeing several Hatharen pointing towards the eastern side of the rim. Wading to the shore, she approached the three, only to hear them talking in their own language.

  One noticed her, then said something to one of the others, who turned to look at Ferene. “Signal from the scout. There’s a visitor on the way.”

  Ferene turned to look towards the ridge, where she had entered the stronghold, before breaking into a run. All the time traveling with Grathen, or living in the strongholds, it had been so long since she just ran. Her legs carried her over the ground, her feet slapping against the damp grass as she climbed the slope.

  The scout stood at the top, looking down the side of the mountain. He saw her, and pointed. Her gaze followed his hand, and she saw three figures climbing up the steep mountain path, still too far for her to make out clearly. She started to take a step forward, but felt a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. She looked at the scout, and the man said something to her, before he stepped back, pulling her with him. She followed his lead, and they moved to the side, away from the top of the path, taking a vantage point.

  She realized that nobody had waited for her at the top - instead, people had come up to meet her. Had a scout seen her and waited this same way? Unlike Yonthal, Treventhal didn’t have hidden entrances - it was just very high, with a steep, narrow path to the edge. They had enough warning to see only a few people were approaching, but she didn’t understand why they hid instead of going down to meet them.

  It could be Taradira. They were too far away for Ferene to be sure. She shifted, uncomfortable, before walking back down the slope to wait with some of the other Hatharen who had gathered below.

  Taradira stepped to the top of the ridge and looked down at Treventhal. It reminded her of Aesuthal’s grassy valley, except shrunken down. Three similarly sized basins could fit in the valley, if she judged the size right.

  “What a view.” Faltare commented. “So this is your home?”

  “It was my home.” Selveren said, an unusual tightness to his voice. “I left a long time ago.”

  “Hopefully Ferene was successful here as well. Let’s find out.” Taradira started walking down the slope, her eyes picking out a group of Hatharen waiting below. As she got closer, she saw Ferene’s slightly shorter figure and orange hair.

  When the two groups met, Taradira frowned. Ferene wore pants that ended at her knees, and no shoes. “Ferene.” She said, addressing her directly and ignoring the others. “What was the response?”

  “They’ll help you.”

  “Good work.”

  She watched as Ferene’s eyes went from hers to her side - to Selveren. Immediately, the young Hatharen tensed, before-

  “Selveren!” A voice yelled, and Taradira turned to see another woman approaching. Her hands were balled into fists, and she walked with intent, moving quickly. Taradira moved, putting herself between the newcomer and Selveren.

  “Tilhana.” He spoke normally, seemingly unaware of the anger radiating off the woman.

  “You weren’t supposed to come back here. Not ever.”

  “He’s with me.” Taradira said. Tilhana stopped in front of her, glaring past her at Selveren before locking eyes with her, glaring upwards with fierce intensity.

  “He was supposed to leave so he could learn, but he made the same mistakes again. He left another daughter with no mother, and this time he was even less of a father. Why did you bring him here?”

  “He is my assistant, and he will be my assistant going forward. I have never seen a war go without injuries, and we will need his knowledge.”

  Tilhana bared her teeth before turning and walking away.

  Ferene stayed silent as she watched the exchange. She understood Tilhana’s anger, but she didn’t feel it. Selveren stayed equally silent, his eyes downcast. As Tilhana walked away, Ferene hesitated, unsure of what to do, when she noticed Taradira’s other companion. The woman looked like Linara, but she was taller, and her eyes were gray. Ferene found herself staring.

  The woman said something, and Ferene blinked.

  “Ferene was raised by humans.” Taradira added.

  The strange woman blinked once, looking first at Ferene, then to the direction Tilhana left in, then at Selveren, a frown crossing her face. Selveren met her eyes for a moment, and nodded.

  She turned back to Ferene and smiled. “My name is Faltare.”

  “Ferene.” Faltare’s smile was different from Linara’s, but Ferene couldn’t pin down how. It just felt different.

  “Ferene met Linara in the human lands.”

  Faltare looked to Taradira, then back to Ferene. “You’re one of her comrades, then?”

  “She…she helped me.” Linara was the first other Hatharen Ferene met, and she told her to go north. If not for that, Ferene would never have found her family, found Rilya, found Taradira, or her father, but she didn’t know how to communicate all of that.

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  “I need to speak with the elders. This is where we start to gather our forces.”

  Taradira left her two companions with Ferene, walking into the town. She couldn’t think of it as anything else - the stronghold was the mountain itself, and the collection of houses inside was just a town. After climbing over the edge of the basin, it no longer felt defensible, just like being inside the valley of Aesuthal. Humans wouldn’t even look out of place here.

  Once she found the elder’s hall, her conversation with them was short. They were eager to join her - Ferene’s mission was successful. They pledged five hundred to her cause. Taradira asked them to gather those that would join her.

  One of them pulled on a rope hanging down from above in the corner of the room, and the sound of a bell rang out. It was shortly followed by other bells, further away. All of them went outside, and the space around the hall quickly filled with Hatharen. Taradira stood back and waited as the elders gave the conditions for who would be staying behind. With that done, the Hatharen scattered, going back to their houses to gather their things.

  “Since we learned what you wanted, we had supplies for the journey prepared.” One of the elders said.

  “Why didn’t you already tell them who would be going?”

  “Our people are passionate. If they had time, they would come to us with arguments as to why they should go or stay. This way is easier, they will be focused on the task at hand, the same as when we send a large force north.”

  Taradira nodded in understanding. Every stronghold would be going through this, the ones further southeast having more time to prepare and sort out any issues that arose.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  After hearing the bells and following the others, Ferene found Tilhana in the crowd and stood next to her and the other members of her sister’s family as they listened to the elders. Ferene couldn’t understand what was said, but followed them afterward.

  “Get your things, we’re moving out.” Tilhana told her.

  At her borrowed dwelling, Ferene found Grathen, the old Hatharen already had his sword strapped to his back, and was looking at a pile of cloth and metal Ferene recognized as simple Hatharen armor. They exchanged a look, and he gave her a smile. Ferene nodded, and went to don her own armor, before strapping her weapons to her body.

  “Are you ready for this?” Grathen asked. Ferene looked at him, confused, and he raised an eyebrow. “The enemy. You will be fighting and killing them. It affects you, doesn’t it? Just being near them.”

  “I’ve fought them before.”

  “So you know how it affects you. We’re going to find where they come from. There will be more of them there. Are you ready for that?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve fought them before. I know what will happen to me.”

  “If you say so.” Grathen replied, and Ferene frowned, but didn’t continue the conversation any further. She didn’t know why he doubted her, but all she had to do was fight. Her stomach clenched at the idea, but she ignored that. She could overcome that reaction, she had done it before, on multiple occasions.

  After finishing their preparations, the two took a moment to right things in the house before going back outside. They found the Hatharen gathered at the base of the rise, and moved to join them. Tilhana and five others came out to meet her, but Ferene shook her head.

  “I need to be with Taradira.”

  “That means being with Selveren.”

  “He doesn’t matter.”

  Normally, looking over an army gave Taradira a feeling of confidence, even power. Yet as she watched the Hatharen assemble, she could only worry. While she knew this was only a fraction of her people, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough. They were all competent fighters - their way of life demanded it - but how would they fare in open combat? All past major engagements involved a tactical advantage - ambushes or terrain they knew better than their opponents. The fights further out involved only a squad or two. She didn’t know how her people would fare, or how their enemy would react to an army marching towards them.

  Ferene walked up the slope towards her vantage point, the girl wearing her armor and a level expression. With both of them nearby, Taradira once again saw the commonalities between Ferene and her father, though the girl had far more of those moments where the emotions came to the surface. Taradira remembered the time Ferene strode into her camp, carrying a bloodied sword and talking of being betrayed by Taradira’s men. Usually, someone would be furious, angry, but the closest Ferene came to lashing out was interrupting Taradira’s sparring session.

  Ferene silently took her place at Taradira’s side, next to Feltare and Selveren. Not long after that, one of the elders came forward, nodding to Taradira. “This is everyone that will go with you. They have supplies to last the trip, and will follow your orders from here as if they were our own. Two members of the council have joined as well. The rest of us will remain behind, to oversee the caretaking of the stronghold.”

  “You dispatched the messenger south, as I instructed?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, despite our misgivings, we will follow your trust in this empire. We can only tend to things for so long with so few, so outside help is an ideal solution, as long as they behave.”

  “These people are not fighters, and they have no land of their own right now. Where they used to live lies in ruins. They are only staying here while it is restored. This is mutually beneficial.”

  “If you say so. You know them far better than we do.”

  Following Taradira, Ferene found herself in front of the Hatharen of Treventhal as they walked along the mountain paths eastward. Unlike the wide but orderly march of the human armies, the Hatharen simply walked. Families formed their own groups, but looking back, Ferene didn’t see the line dividing itself into sets of six. Everyone moved their own way - in some places the line took up the entire width of the path, and in others there would be six Hatharen walking single file. Taradira looked back at them, once, and sighed before turning her gaze forward again.

  Taradira’s group at the front consisted of the general herself, Ferene, Selveren, Feltare, and Grathen. Feltare did most of the talking. She chatted with Grathen at length, prying information about his past from him. At first he gave only short answers, but quickly started explaining more, talking at length about the world he used to know. Ferene didn’t pay much attention to his answers, focusing forward, only hearing the sounds of the conversation beside her as she walked.

  Walking east, she was moving towards Rilya again. They hadn’t been apart for long, but she found herself falling into her own thoughts. The two of them - the six of them, with the rest of her family, aside from Filraehen - would be together for the length of Taradira’s mission. A life with Rilya and her family outside of Yonthal. The thought filled Ferene with apprehension. What would it be like, traveling with people she was close to for that long? Her trip north with Grathen was the longest she’d been with someone, and she didn’t have the same kind of connection to him. They would be heading into danger, but the thought of being with them was something she looked forward to. It was more than just a temporary meeting before parting ways again. The idea of having that to look forward to was an unfamiliar feeling.

  They never went to Yonthal itself, instead taking a path down the northern side of the mountain. Hundreds of Hatharen joined them, the people of Yonthal seamlessly merging into the line of people from Vilventhal as they walked past. Ferene hesitated for a moment, and then slowed, letting Taradira and the others move away from her. Hatharen after Hatharen walked past, until someone grabbed her from behind.

  Ferene found herself among her family. Rilya walked at her side, an arm still thrown over her shoulder. Telhrian and Alri were directly ahead, the former turning to give her a smile. Looking back, she saw Sathar and Ilraghen walking behind them, the two talking to each other.

  Her anxiety washed away. She grabbed Rilya’s hand, squeezing her fingers, and smiled.

  Not long after Ferene vanished, the strange Hatharen from Yonthal took her place behind Taradira.

  “Where’s your friend?” She asked.

  “Relgren put himself in charge of a group of survivors.” Tahrean responded. “I wanted to be at your side.”

  “Why?”

  “To see what you do. To be there during your moment of triumph, to help you change the world our people live in to something better. Is that a problem?”

  “No.”

  Taradira heard them laugh behind her as she walked.

  “Before, you said you lived before the strongholds?” Selveren asked.

  “I did say that, and it is true. However, I will not be answering your questions.”

  A moment of silence followed before Selveren replied. “Why?”

  “That is another question I won’t answer.”

  Faltare spoke up. “May I have a question answered?”

  “One.”

  “I will have to take my time finding the best one, then.”

  “Good answer.”

  They were annoying, Taradira decided. “If you wish to be part of this you will have to follow my orders.”

  “In the scope of combat and logistics, I will do that.”

  “Good enough.”

  With that, Tahrean mostly fell silent, occasionally putting in a comment here or there as Faltare questioned Grathen. Taradira ignored this, keeping her eyes forward.

  At Valerathal they took a short rest. With the nearly eight hundred guests, the stronghold felt crowded, a massive shift from the emptiness that marked their previous visit.

  Trelhas approached Taradira, his face neutral. “Will you let me join your family?” He asked, looking at her.

  Taradira blinked, her body going stiff for a moment. She had first come with three, but the addition of Grathen and Tahrean made five. She was one away from having six. That was a family. She had not thought of having one since her last excursion to the north, hundreds of years ago. Turning, she looked around, at all of them, before looking back at Trelhas. “What of the elders?”

  “We were never a family, just a collection of the oldest that live here. I have been alone for some time. My family…we agreed to break up, to fill the spots in others where needed. We never had the same bond that others do, and I’ve seen them develop those in their new homes.”

  “But you stayed behind.”

  “Nobody stood out to me, until you.”

  “Because of our duel?”

  “Yes. You fought well.”

  He focused entirely on her, his eyes boring into hers with a single minded focus. Taradira looked away, turning back to the others. “Trelhas thinks we are a family.” Tahrean tilted their head, their mouth twisting into something vaguely resembling a grin. Selveren didn’t react. Grathen shrugged. Taradira looked at Faltare. “I think the rest of us are alone. What about you?”

  “I’ve been alone for some time, yes. We could be a family, the six of…” she trailed off, looking at each of them in turn, before grinning widely. “Oh, that is perfect!”

  “What is perfect?” Taradira asked, confused.

  Faltare giggled. “We’re all from different strongholds.”

  Tahrean let out a soft laugh. Grathen tilted his head in thought. “Is that true?” Trelhas asked.

  “Faltare is from Aesuthal, Grathen is from Ravthal, Tahrean is from Yonthal, Selveren is from Vilventhal, I’m from Treventhal and you’re from Valerahal. This leaves no space for someone from Helrare.”

  “Helrare is more of an outpost than a stronghold.” Tahrean said. “I think the six of us are perfect the way we are.”