Autumn. A time of color, hurry, and the first brisk winds from the north. But what defined it? What did it mean? Depending on who you asked, the answer would be different.

If you asked Murell Tanner, she would say ‘cold,’ and then hobble off to warm her old backside by the fire. If you asked Horther Sye, he would tell you it meant it was Harvest time and then mutter a vague goodbye and run off to pluck potatoes or something else similarly dull. If you asked my mother, she would say it meant it was time to clean the house, and then order me to wash the floor or dust the windowsills.

If you asked me, I would have said that it meant a time of beauty was upon us. Trees crowned in orange, red, and gold. Crisp air, growing more brittle everyday to the point where could almost taste the ice and hear it cracking long before it came. Silver frost covering the grass and windowsills every morning. Snapping branches in the forest. Apples in the apple trees. Everything waking up and busy, shaking off the sluggish, idle heat of summer, and preparing for the winter to come.

At least, that’s what I would have said a year ago.

It turned out when the mind was occupied with worry; I had little time to appreciate things like the color of the leaves. In fact, half the things I would have considered worth mentioning were now barely worth glancing at.

Or maybe it wasn’t that. Perhaps it was that I feared what would happen when the time came for that beauty to be stripped away.

Nearly four years everyone waited. Conversations on the possibilities of war and invasion were no longer confined to late at night when the children were asleep. Before, when you walked along the street you might hear people gossiping about how poor someone's daughter was witnessed tending to poor someone else’s son in the barn. And despite all sympathy felt for the parents, some social distance was urged until and unless the two youths decided a formal union was in order. Or how due to recent events it would be proper to call the Blacksmith a cuckold behind his back, and give the path to the Nanhagrik’s farm a wide berth.

Now there was nothing but war. It was in every head, on every tongue, and even the town itself seemed to be plagued with it. A tight shackle around our necks, weighing down on our shoulders, and with no key to bring release. In fact, we had been living in the possibility of it for so long, that there was hardly a change when word came that it had begun.

Trade with Upperhalf had been completely cut off. Bottomhalf merchant ships were attacked and sunk out at sea, far-out enough that not even their bodies washed up on the shores. There was no linen. No barley, goats, sheep, millet, fine white flour, tea leaves, oranges, or other exotic fruits. The tobacco farmers didn’t dare risk being slaughtered and then having their harvests stolen out at sea, so our Lord expressly forbade trade until we could be assured security for our ships. Faster and faster with every new day, everything began to diminish along with the light in the upcoming winter. The days became shorter, the nights colder and longer. Crops failed; animals grew ill. It was like a mist of darkness had settled over us and refused to clear.

The only good news at this point was that we had yet to be invaded. So though starvation was a threat, we were coming to no real harm. But then, that was also worse because all we could do was wait with no hope for the inevitable.

A week before my sixteenth birthday, I trudged wearily toward the small hut sitting close by the others along the dirt path; my apron full of small, twisted brown potatoes. Mother had given me the job of delivering the left-over vegetables to some of those who had not managed to buy a piece of the harvest.

Since things had become dire, a new system was put into order. An effort to preserve those of us who’d depended on the money we would have received had our harvests been shipped to T’cor. Our Lord decreed that from then on, every harvest that succeeded, we would pay for a piece of the load. If the earth we bought flourished, we were lucky and received whatever grew there. Probably carrots, potatoes, or beets. If we were unlucky, all we ended up with was a few twisted onions, or some oat bundles.Then of course there were those who had no money to pay for a harvest share. Thirteen houses I had visited that day. Each small, cold, and filthy. The inhabitants were thin and shivering with more pointed corners than a knife. They accepted my offerings stiffly, too hungry to care about pride.

I reached the house and found myself facing the door that was a simple cloth. It fluttered sadly in the cold air; a mournful replacement for the door that was yet to be mended. The walls were cracked and the grass that surrounded it was yellow and old. The straw thatching was old and mouldy, with only a few gold patches where fresh wedges had been put in the previous day. The single windowpane was grimy and cracked from the hail we’d had the previous week.

There was nothing at all friendly or charming about the place, but my heart rose every time I saw it.

“Hello!” I called, as I always did.

The cloth was pushed aside, and a young man stepped out. He was taller than me by more than a head, his hair was brown and ruggedly cut with his father’s razor. He didn’t look surprised to see me.

“Judeth.” His face broke into a relieved smile.

“James.” I smiled back and opened my apron.

“I’m afraid this is all I have left,” I apologized.

He shook his head and welcomed me inside. “Mother and Father are grateful for all. Sashada came by and delivered some carrots and fish. I should be able to make something filling.”

“You mean I will make something filling,” I corrected, grinning at him affectionately, and stepping inside. I dumped the potatoes into a basin which sat on the table and rolled up my sleeves. “Would you pass me the carrots, please? And a knife?”

“You really don’t have to do this, Judeth,” he said, though he passed me the carrots and his knife anyway. As it always happened. We’d had this conversation many times.

I took the carrots, placed them on the table and began slicing them into thick circular pieces. “You always say that. And I always end up doing it. Fix up the fish, won’t you?”

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention toward the fish, which lay by the carrots, plump and peacefully unaware that they were soon to be speared on the end of a stick and hung in the fire.

“I’m not that bad of a cook,” he said after a moment.

“If you really believed that then you wouldn’t let me cook for you every night.”

“That’s not for want of my own talent. Women cook. That’s the way of things.”

“Then I suppose I should say, ‘Yes, dear,’ and we’ll be done with it.”

He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything back, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, closed it again, giving me an embarrassed smile.

I worked single-mindedly on the carrots, making sure to get them even on all sides.

“It was kind of the Fayes to send us that fish,” James commented.

“Mmm.”

“What?” He nudged me, and when I didn’t smile, he pouted playfully. “What are you thinking?”

I scooped the carrots off the counter and into a pot, then began chopping the potatoes. They were more difficult due to their size, so I worked the knife carefully. “Sashada is very beautiful.”

“She is,” he agreed seriously.

I scoffed and tossed my head, slicing the potatoes with more vigor.

“Judeth.” James grabbed my waist and swung me around. “What’ve I done now?”

“I think that their generosity is only there to encourage the possibility of you marrying their daughter. That’s what I think.” I pulled out of his arms and went back to my cutting.

“Who, me?” He was well practiced by now. Nearly enough to sound genuinely surprised, but I knew better. It hurt of course, but James was flirtatious by nature. Though, it tended to be a harmless habit, so I’d learned to take his deficiencies in some areas with the efficiencies in others. I was not so perfect myself after all, even if loyalty and a steady eye was one virtue I could boast having.

“Yes, you mule’s head. You. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how much she likes you.”

“I don’t really see what benefits either of our families would make through such a union.” He crossed his arms and yawned. “Of course, rich living would be a good thing. But I think I’d find their sort of life too dull to stay chained to. And I’ve nothing to offer as a prospective husband for the higher class.”

“You’re young, handsome, hardworking and ambitious.” I scowled at the potato beneath my hands. “Destined to one day leave Saje and take your bride with you to a far-off land where you shall make a fortune and live in comfort for the rest of your days.”

“And what father wants his daughter to be that bride?” He tilted his head back so it rested against the wall, and eyed me interestedly. “Are you jealous, Judeth?”

I slammed the knife down, rather harder than I had meant to, and it slipped off the slippery skin of the potato and sliced through my finger. I gave a yelp and clasped it in my other hand.

“Sard and damn and Seven Hells!” I swore.

“Judeth!” James dropped the fish and leapt heroically to my side. “Let me see,” he demanded, trying to unclasp my fingers.

“No!”

“Let me see your hand, Judeth.”

“Damn my hand! You’re the problem!”

“Me?” He blinked round, ochre eyes. “What did I do?”

“You’re so stupid!” I cried.

“Stupid? How?”

“Of course I’m jealous. I’d have to be a boar’s ass not to be; forced to sit back and watch as these beautiful women are paraded around in front of you looking like queens while I’m here looking like a milkmaid! That’s how you’re stupid! You flirt and compliment and make everyone think you’re in love with them. Next thing you know you’ll be married to Sashada Faye and you won’t even realize it until it’s too late and then you won’t turn back because you’ll be eating tiny birds in sweet sauce and wearing silk and you’ll forget all about me!”

My chest rose and fell with my heavy breathing, and the pain that pulsed up and down my hand did nothing to dampen the fire that cooked my face an embarrassed red. James stared at me with raised eyebrows for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m not going to marry Sashada, if that’s what you’re worried about. What a funny notion. Don’t be hysterical, Judeth. Now, show me your hand.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because—Because what if it came off?”

“What came off?”

“My finger,” I mewled. “What if my finger came off?”

“Then it’s better to know now.”

He managed to unclasp my fingers, and I looked away so as not to see the bloodied mess that was my hand.

“I thought you said you weren’t afraid of blood,” he quipped.

“I’m not afraid of the blood, I’m afraid of looking and seeing a stump where my finger used to be,” I snapped.

“Well, don’t worry. You only sliced through the corner. There’s no need to make a song and dance about it.”

“Really?” I finally turned back toward my hand and stared down at it in relief. He was right. After I cleared most of the blood away, I could see that it really was only a small slice.

James stepped away to let me wash the blood away and then handed me a piece of clean cloth to bandage the injury with. I was only permitted to continue cutting if I promised to go slowly.

“I can’t have you missing your fingers when we run away together,” he mentioned coyly as he refocused his attention on the fish.

I nearly sliced my finger off again.

He smiled at my surprised face, as though my reaction was exactly what he had wanted.

“What, you thought I was all talk back then?”

“You meant it?” I finally found my voice, but it was hushed and quiet, as though the subject were some tremendous secret that had to be kept hidden. It wasn’t, really. Plenty of people left Saje to live elsewhere on the continent, but the thought of others knowing about it was alarming.

“Of course I meant it. Did you mean it when you said you’d come with me?”

I mixed the carrots and potatoes together in the pot, then added some water from the bucket by the door and hung the entire thing to cook in the fire.

“I meant it. I’m almost sure.”

“Almost sure?” He scoffed. “Judeth, this isn’t something you can just be ‘almost sure’ about. You’re not arranging flowers.”

“I know, it’s only . . .what with the wars going on, and invasion and everything, would it be right to leave?”

James speared the fish and hung them near my stew pot above the coals. We both watched as several long tongues of flame snaked out and tasted the silvery flesh.

“It’s because of the invasion and wars that we want to leave,” James finally answered me, eyes still fixed on the fire. “As soon as we can. Trade has been banned. How long until travel is banned as well? If we want to get out of here, we’ll need to do it soon.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I breathed in deeply. “I just find it hard to imagine leaving my parents so suddenly. I mean, I’ve thought about it, of course, but knowing we’ll actually do it . . . it suddenly feels very real and serious.”

“It is real and serious,” James said, his gaze now hard, and focused on me. “It’s a life-changing decision. I want you to come with me Judeth, but if you really aren’t sure, I won’t make you. Though what sort of life you’ll make here I could only guess at. There will be no adventures. No excitement.”

“No,” I said forcefully. “No, I’m coming with you. I want to come with you. I know that.”

His face broke into a smile. “Good, then I can tell you what I couldn’t tell you before.” He picked his way across the small room to his cot and dug hid fingers beneath the straw tick. A moment later, he came back to me holding a piece of rolled, slightly dented yellowing parchment in his hands. He spread it out across the table and smoothed his fingers over it longingly.

“What did you want to tell me?” I asked, peering over his shoulder to better see what he was looking at. It was a map.

“I found the place we’re going to run away to.” His voice was high pitched and excited.

“Where is it?”

He pointed to an area in the top left corner. For a moment I couldn’t see anything, then I leaned closer, and the small name and illustration became clear.

I drew back in surprise. “Seaggis?” I gaped at him.

James nodded.

“Why Seaggis?” I asked.

“Do you have a problem with it?”

“No, if it weren’t so small! I’m sure plenty of people even forget that it exists most of the time. I suppose I thought you would rather go somewhere you may make more of a name for yourself.”

“It would be our temporary destination. Somewhere peaceful to rest and decide where best to go next. Think about it. Cthos and Aibit have been mainly under Radkka’s control for years now, but after they’ve finished securing those two, where do you think they’ll go next?”

I frowned down at the map. “Duleth, probably,” I guessed.

“That’s right. And after that? Who do you think they’ll go after next?”

I frowned down at the map again. When my silence continued for longer than a minute, James jumped in. “They would have already set their sights on Saje a long time ago, and they’ll also have known that we’re aware of that. If you were to panic, where would be the first place you’d flee too?”

“Kora, Thessè, or Bunting.” This time I knew how to answer.

“Yes. So, if you were the enemy, and you knew that as time went on, people would begin to run, what would you do?”

“Why are you making me figure it out, James? Won’t you just tell me?” I asked.

“No. In times of war, if you want to learn how to survive, you have to be prepared for what the enemy will throw at you, and in order to do that, you must be able to think the way the enemy thinks.”

I huffed impatiently but complied, scrunching up my brows in concentration. After a few more seconds of frustrating silence, I threw my hands in the air.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

James sighed exasperatedly. “Fine. Think about it this way. Imagine that the enemy soldiers are in Saje. You are one of them. You know the people will try to escape to the other islands, so what will you do to stop them?”

“Kill them,” I suggested flatly.

James let out a snort of dry laughter. “Ay, they would do that, but I’m talking of a logical solution. Think warfare, not barbarity.”

“War is barbarity,” I argued.

He shook his head resignedly. “I’ll just tell you then. The most probable thing they’ll do is take control of any place we might run to. Bunting has many citizens, but weak defense systems. Kora and Thesè would go under together, since they share a Lord, so that’s a double win. Then if anyone tries to flee to one of those islands, they’ll be automatically placing themselves in enemy clutches.”

“That does make sense.” I nodded solemnly. “In a terrible kind of way. Clever, but terrible.”

“Woe betide us that our enemy must both be frighteningly cruel and fatally clever,” he agreed, though the light in his eyes hinted at something less than sorrowful.

Something about it made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. This had not been the first time I had caught something strange in someone’s eyes. A flash of shadow, or a wordless secret passed between two people in a glance. However, no matter how many times I witnessed it, I could never pinpoint exactly what made me feel uncomfortable. And so, I never mentioned it. Even now, with the question bitter and fresh upon my tongue, I said nothing. I had been taught long ago not to jump at shadows, for if you fear the whispers of the trees, the whispers of man will pass you by, and you will miss the real threat looming.

“In any case,” James brought me out of my mellow thoughts and back into the present reality. “My point is that because of how small and undaunting Seaggis is, chances are that it shall remain untouched until the very end and will hardly receive the full force of the enemy’s wrath. If you think long term, it really is the best option for us.”

“I see what you mean.”

I tilted my head thoughtfully to the side as I eyed the tiny blotch of ink amidst the sea. How long until it was our new home?

Something that had been pulling at my subconscious for quite some time came to the surface, and I blurted out the question before I had time to think better of it.

“Is this really all there is? Are we to simply accept our fate and wait until we’re taken? Are we not to fight back?”

James shrugged. “Who knows what will happen in the future, Judeth.”

“Would you be content to stand by and watch as we lose our freedom?” I asked. “Only, I know I wouldn’t fight. But you always seemed so keen. Would it satisfy you to run?”

The smile disappeared from his face, and he turned his eyes away from mine. “Your stew is boiling over.” He nodded at the pot which had begun to bubble and hiss as the frothy surface rose and dripped down the black iron sides.

I leapt upright to grab a rag and carefully lifted it off the flames.

Just at that chaotic moment, James’s father, Kobe, stepped into the house, carrying a load of freshly chopped wood in his good arm.

“What are you two doing?” he asked, eyes flitting about the room and settling on the map that remained forgotten on the table.

James rushed to roll it up and tucked it underneath his arm. “I was teaching Judeth some geography while we waited for the meal to finish cooking,” he lied smoothly. “She’s completely ignorant in the area.”

“I am,” I agreed, reminding myself he didn’t mean it. “Please forgive me for entering your home without your permission.”

Kobe shrugged and moved to set the wood by the fireplace. He was a tall, intimidating man with leathery skin and grey hair streaked with silver. Though I had spent many hours in his company over the past few years, I knew nearly nothing of him. When he spoke, it was with few words, and otherwise preferred to remain silent and observant. I often caught myself looking between he and his son, trying to see the similarities, but there were few that I could note. It was clear to anyone that the parent James took most of his appearance from was his mother.

Hanai had soft brown hair and large brown eyes. She was gentle and delicate like a doe. James too, with his wide, joyous eyes and springing gait, could only be seen as a young buck, eager to feast on fresh grass in springs medows.

“Judeth.” James tapped me on the shoulder. “Stay for dinner?”

I was tempted. Cooking always made me hungry, but I never felt comfortable with Kobe in the room. So, I politely declined.

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

This was silly nonsense, of course. We both knew that I wasn’t intruding, but the eyes of his father on my back had me stiff and cold.

“Oh, Judeth! You’re here!”

I turned at the sound of my name, just in time to see Hanai enter the cottage, back from her ladies circle, a knitted shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders, and a basket on her arm.

“Yes, forgive me.” I bowed my head, as was proper.

“Nonsense. You do so much for us. Please, stay and help us enjoy this beautiful meal you’ve made.” Hanai’s personality, like her appearance, was soft, warm and delicate. She always did what she could to make me feel welcome, but for some reason I could never relax around her any more than I could her husband.

I was about to politely decline again, when I felt James’s fingers weave their way through mine. I looked up at him, and he grinned at me.

Five minutes later, the four of us were seated around the Johans’ table. The stew pot sat in the middle, and the fish lay steamily next to it on a plate. There was silence for a while, as everyone filled a bowl. I took very little. No one in Saje had an abundance of food, but I knew that my family had more than James’s. In the end, I turned out to be right not to take much. The following conversation had my stomach writhing like a bed of snakes.

“When are you going to make firm your betrothal?”

It was the first thing Kobe had said since sitting down at the table.

I nearly met my end on a steaming slice of potato that I had unwisely placed in my mouth a moment before. The result was a scorched throat and a few humiliating seconds where all I could do was hack and cough until my airway was clear. Eye’s watering and mouth burning, I stared down at my lap, speechless as the fish on the table.

“Father—” James seemed equally as flustered, which made me feel both a little better, and a little more unsure. “Is it really time to talk about something like that?” he whispered.

Kobe didn’t blink. “These are troubled times. A union between two families could improve things for us.”

“What?” I asked. Kobe’s eyes flitted to me. I swallowed nervously. “My family isn’t wealthy. I doubt a union would bring any particular blessings upon you.”

Kobe took a bite out of his fish. “If our families join, we will also share resources and supplies, little as it may be,” he explained. “My son can help your father with whatever work he does, you’ll help Hanai with the housework. We may not be wealthy, girl. It's true that there will be few benefits for your family in this match, but If you had no desire to marry my son, why do you remain in his company?”

“Money, or a lack of it makes no difference to me.” I bit down on my tongue. “I hadn’t meant to imply that it did. Please don’t misunderstand. I was only surprised. I suppose I haven’t really thought much of marriage.” I clenched my hands together under the table.

“Judeth speaks truth, Father.” James came to my aid. “We never talked of it before.”

It was true we had not. Though running away together could, in some way, be seen as a sort of marriage plan, we had never discussed the real thing, much less thought about discussing it with his parents. I did want to marry James. I knew I did. I would marry him now if he wanted. But it was not my place to bring the subject up. It was his.

And he had not.

Kobe shook his head. “In my time, it was not unusual to marry at fourteen. At fifteen and sixteen, you are the perfect ages, and you—” His attention was once again focused on me. “You must be careful to wed well before you’ve reached the age of twenty. You’re in your prime childbearing years. We can’t have you going stale.”

My face was no doubt the same shade of red as the glowing embers in the fireplace. Luckily, before I could mumble something unintelligible and most probably completely unrelated, Hanai placed a thin hand on her husband’s arm.

“Enough Kobe, they have plenty of time yet.” She smiled at us.

Neither I nor James could bring ourselves to look each other in the eyes.

It was only after a pink-cheeked James had walked an also very pink-faced me back home, and I was comfortably situated in my bed did I realize that James had never answered my question. But by then it was too late to ask him again.