Lina was woken by excited activity and raised voices—a glance out the window told her it was still dark out, hours from sunrise judging by the colour of the sky. After splashing some water on her face and pulling on a dress, she made her way into the chaotic family kitchen, which was lit by a couple of lamps and packed with the entire rest of her family, except for her father.

"All right, all right," her mother was saying, her voice raised over the noise of the younger ones. "There's no panic, we've had this before, comes with living so close to the border. Just make sure you've all got your socks and shoes on, and your travelling coats—your good ones, mind—and let's all get ourselves organised."

Well, thanks for waking me, Lina thought, but she didn't say it, instead busied herself helping Gerty find her coat and two socks that matched.

"Lina, you go ahead with Gerty and Terry," her mother said to her as they all got ready to leave—although to where and for what reason, Lina still hadn't been told.

"Where to?" she asked.

"To the village hall, of course, you daft girl! Come on now, let's get moving, it's an unpleasant chore, I know, but unpleasant chores are better'n being dead, as my pa used to say, and I reckon he'd be an authority on the matter. What are you doing still standing around, gaping like a landed fish, go!"

Lina ushered Gerty and Terry out of the house and into the crisp, dark morning.

"Look, Lina!" her brother cried. "The stars are really bright!"

"If you look carefully, you might see a shooting star," Lina said to her little siblings. "And if you do, you can make a wish."

"Oh! I'm gonna wish for—"

"No!" Gerty cut her brother off, her young voice serious. "You can't tell or it doesn't come true!"

Terry clapped both hands over his mouth, his eyes wide.

"Come on, you two. You can look for shooting stars and walk at the same time, but mind you don't trip."

Lina had already worked out why she was taking her little siblings to the village hall, even without being told. There was only one reason they'd have to do that so early in the morning, with no warning beforehand. Someone from the village must have spotted a raiding party headed this way, or a traveller had come through during the night, or else in some way they'd received the news; trouble is coming. Lina shivered as she urged her younger siblings along, both at the cold of the morning and a memory from when she was near Gerty's age, hiding in the village hall's big stone cellar, listening to the sound of fighting from above—bandits, that time. They'd come down from the hills. Lina shivered again, hoping and praying that whatever trouble was headed towards her little village decided to pass it by. The clouds in the southern sky weren't exactly reassuring, hanging black and heavy. Wind's blowing from that way, Lina thought. From Crove.

The village common was lit by six large flaming torches when Lina came to it, crowded with men and boys who wanted to be men, all talking in hushed tones—which became even more hushed as Lina approached with her little brother and sister. She was quickly escorted to the village hall by Lowe, the blacksmith. Usually friendly and chatty, this morning his face was blank and the only thing he said to Lina was "This way" as he ushered her inside the hall. Looking back as she walked inside, Lina caught a glimpse of Adam in the torchlight. I want to see him fight, came a sudden thought. I want to watch him fighting to protect me.

No, Lina corrected herself, as Mrs Law from the village bakery took over escort duties, clucking and chattering and fussing away as she led Lina and her siblings down into the cellar, what I REALLY want is for there to be NO fighting at all, ACTUALLY.

The cellar was dry and warm and could easily hold the entire population of the village twice over if the need arose. The people of Lina's village were nothing if not practical, seeing this kind of forced gathering not so much a time to cower in fear and reassure each other that it'd all be okay, but more of an inconvenient yet unavoidable break from the day-to-day chores and duties of village life, a time when it was okay to just sit around and gossip and catch up with one another, because there wasn't much else they could do. It was also, by some unspoken agreement, the time when everyone brought out that extra pie they had, or those dried figs left over from last season, or even that bottle of wine they'd been saving. Consequently the two large tables set up in the middle of the cellar were almost bending from the feast they held.

Lina didn't have much of an appetite. She didn't feel frightened, and not nervous either, not exactly, she just had a tremendous sense of anticipation. It's not a question of if, she thought, as she watched her little brother and sister run to the food table, it's a question of when.

"Good, you got them here safe. Ursula, you take those trotters to the table, see if you can find a space for them. Ee, looks like a grand turn out this time around, doesn't it Lina? Surprised you're not stuck into it already."

Lina felt herself blushing. She'd always been a big eater, the biggest in the family—which, considering how much her older brothers could put away, was saying something. She didn't want to be, it just seemed to take so much more food to satisfy her than it did for anyone else. Still, it wasn't as if she shirked her chores—I might eat more than everyone else, Lina often told herself, but I work harder and longer than everyone else, too.

"They'll be needing another table if this keeps up," Lina's mother was continuing, oblivious to her daughter's red cheeks. "Looks like even the Grants brought over a few cakes, glad they're—oi! You two best take whatever you're putting your grubby little fingers all over, and you'd best eat it too! Even a time of bounty's no time for waste—don't you put that pastry back young man, you pick that back up and you eat it or I'll take my hand off your face."

Lina sighed, just a little, and moved away from her mother and the rest of her family, to the side of the cellar nearest the common—there weren't any windows in the cellar, but there were a number of long narrow slits to let out the smoke and the heat of the low-burning lanterns. Lina positioned herself near one of these, hoping to hear the men talking in the common, but she found herself disappointed. She could hear them talking, certainly, the low buzz of their conversation so different from the loud chatter within the cellar—more measured, more serious—but she couldn't even begin to make out what they were actually saying. For a moment Lina wished she was out there, talking about ... whatever it was they were talking about, swords possibly, battle, blood and war. Then she chastised herself for being foolish. I'm a girl, she thought, what could I do out there, if enemies came? I don't know the first thing about fighting, I'd just get in the way and cause trouble. I doubt I could even talk about fighting without feeling nervous and probably embarrassing myself. No, down here is where I should be.

Lina turned away from the little chimney-slit and looked around the room, smiling as she saw a couple of her friends near one of the food tables—Betty was holding up a large salami and they were all laughing, Lina could feel herself blushing even without hearing what her friend was saying but somehow, despite her embarrassment, she wanted to be part of that conversation. Her odd feelings and urges of the moment before forgotten, she went to join her friends, to try to chat away her fear.