They walked for days until they reached the edge of the city, where cars bustled by. Every night that passed by the woman grew weaker, although the frail white haired boy tried to help her along. It was until one morning that she didn't wake up that they took her away. The child kept shaking her in an attempt to wake her, but they pulled him away. The woods were dark, scary almost, and the men forced the boy along with pointed machetes and spears. He tripped and stumbled along the way, trying to keep up. Once a day he was offered a crust of dry bread, which he ate slower to make it last.

I didn't see Michel's face as the villagers crowded around him, pointing and whispering. He was dangerously underweight, his ribs showing, being completely made out skin and bones. His head was hung low, but in his hand was tightly clenched the metal key, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. The chief came and glared down at the shivering child, scoffing. Michel shrank in his presence, moving back.

"He's a half breed. His mother betrayed us," a woman hissed. "I say we throw him into the civilian world where he belongs, because it's not here."

The chief scowled. "They wouldn't want them either. We can't have him in our midst, infecting our people. Our brothers and sisters have had enough of these halflings running around; they ought to be somewhere else. If only his mother had chosen one of us instead of a civilian, he would have pure blood. But he's not."

Michel wiped his eyes. "Please...please sir. Please don't send me away. I don't know anything about the civilian world, or their ways. Mama always told me--"

"Silence!" the man thundered. His blue eyes were full of rage. "You are banished. If you ever think of coming near us, or our people, you will be punished. Is that understood? Get out of our sight. And if we ever see you again, we will make sure you will regret it."

The boy whimpered before taking off and running away. They could not find him after that. I started to follow after him, my face hot with rage. What right did they have to do this to a child? He looked no older than ten years old. I tried to get his attention, but his eyes did not meet mine. More than anything, I wanted to help him, trying to keep up. The weather slowly began to change, rain pouring on the plants and trees around us. Sometimes he bent down to drink the diamond clear water from the leaves, his arms and legs scraped. Often he slept underneath a rotting tree and wandered around in circles, getting lost on the way. His hair was the color of the moon and stars.

My heart lit up as his old home came into view. The child stood in the bushes, clutching his key, watching a man and a woman sitting around a small campfire. I squinted my eye in confusion. Were these simply travelers? A lump rose in my throat as the man suddenly started, grabbing his weapon and aiming it at the shadow.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

”Suki?” the boy whispered.

At the sight of the child, the man slowly lowered his gun. He appeared taken aback by his condition.

Michel slowly stepped forward, his face reddening. "Suki? My sister. Where is she?”

"What?"

The man's look of confusion made a lump rise in my throat as the boy pushed past him, his feet pounding against the ground. Ignoring the man's shouts, he sprinted towards the darkened hut, moving blindly around. He flung items aside, pushing away moth- eaten tapestries, the two sleeping pallets, and furniture that was bigger than him. His little hands felt around. I was stunned to see how much strength he seemed to have left. The sound of clay pots shattering filled the air as the man charged in after him, shouting at him to get out.

His wife silently followed and carried a candle, which allowed shadows to creep through the walls. I could see that she was trying to piece together everything on her face. Michel ran towards the chest that was presently visible behind a few boxes, which he shoved with all his might, spilling the contents they held all over the ground. He dropped the key twice as he quickly fumbled with the lock. The man reached over in order to try to grab him, but stopped as the boy flung the lid open, and collapsed to his knees, gasping, struggling to breathe.

He began to scream uncontrollably.

The woman covered her mouth, her eyes wide. Her husband gritted his teeth, stumbled back for a bit. Tears spilled down his face, before pulling the child into his strong arms, and carried him out as he started to kick and struggle, his high pitched screams echoing in the air. A strong, putrid stench filled the air as the woman slowly slid down, with her back against the thatched wall. The melted wax from her candle formed a small white puddle in the dirt.

* * * * * * *

A force latched onto me; a strangled cry was born in my throat. I tried to break free and swing and kick, but then a large, rough hand pressed against my back, my sweaty face, somewhat helping me sit up. As I finally managed to catch my breath, I found myself falling and slipping again, until someone caught me into their arms. The blankets were rumpled, in disarray. Eli bleated outside, and the atmosphere was cold, creating shivers that traveled down my back. How could one be freezing and burning up at the same time? It made no sense to me at all. I tried to make sense of my surroundings, gasping, my eyes wet.

"Shhh, shhh.”

A hand pressed against mine.

”It's okay. I've got you."

As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit cave, Adlai's voice was barely audible, his body warm against mine. I rested my head against his shoulder and slowly pulled him into an embrace, listening to his steady heartbeat. I hadn't heard him come in earlier that night, and if I kept up this unacceptable behavior, he would be getting less hours of previous sleep he needed. My temples pounded; a nasty headache was coming in.

"You were having a nightmare," he said.

A wave of nausea came over me before I could respond. As I got to my feet, the world seemed to shift, and I felt his hands support my waist again. I stumbled forward and made it outside just in time to empty what little had been in my stomach from the previous day onto the dried grass. When I finished and wiped the hemline of my dirty nightgown against my mouth, he had helped me sit down on a broken log. The cool air cleared my senses a great deal; and I slowly exhaled. The taste of sour bile burned the back of my throat.

"You should go back to sleep," I signed to him. "You need your rest. I oughtta be ashamed for waking you up so late. I'll just be out here for a while. I'm fine."

Adlai stared at me, and then, without a word, headed down the opposite way that lead to our cave, limping on his bad leg. As he disappeared in the bushes, I attempted to stand, but winced, placed my hand on my swollen stomach. A wave of anxiety fell over me. It was strange that the young'un wasn't kicking, they had been quiet all day. Before these thoughts could settled in my mind, he had pressed a turtle shell full of water into my hand. Dark circles settled around his large brown eyes, his lips set into a tight, firm line. I gazed at my reflection, then back at him as he continued to stand.

As I softly smiled at him, he didn't return it. Strands of his tangled red hair blew in the wind, in sync with the dying leaves. His hands were scarred, blistered.

"I know you saw me," he quietly said. "That night."

I blinked twice, his words not making much sense to me. Maybe he was just tired; sleep deprivation could do wonders to others. I stared at my reflection in the turtle shell. He often murmured to himself in his sleep, things that I could never truly understand if I've tried. The moonlight was dull, darkness covering the lines on his pale face. But his eyes were glistening, water at the edges.

A chill ran down my spine.

”You saw me,” he repeated. “Doing those things. I’ve been wanting to…talk to you about it. And to tell you why I do them.”

I remained silent. I wasn’t going to deny that I didn’t. I just hoped I would forget it.

"There's nothing on this earth that will make me lie to you," Adlai continued, taking a step closer to me. It was getting colder, and frost had begun to spread on the ground. His hair was starting to turn white. "You deserve to know the truth, and I can't hide it from you.”

I sighed; my head was killing me. He needed to go back to sleep. “It’s late. Can’t we just—”

”Please?” he asked.

I rose to my feet, accidentally dropping the turtle shell to the ground. As I bent to pick it up, his cold, glowing blue hand slowly wrapped around mine. My short breaths were visible in the now freezing air, where clear, transparent ice was crawling all over the bushes, plants, trees, and every creeping thing. When his palms settled down around my waist, I noticed blood trickling down from his nose to his mouth. We were engulfed into a blanket of white, and I was shivering.

”I know you saw me.”

“Who…who was the man?”

”An enemy on our territory. If I had let him go, there would’ve been more of them in a couple of days’ time.”

I turned away, fighting back what was rising behind my eyes, but he held onto me.

“Please. Look at me.”

When I finally raised my head, I saw the frost gathering on the ends of his silver hair.

"I've done it to many people," Adlai whispered. "I've never liked a moment of it. Soldiers, civilians, Khonie. Another child back when I was eight years old. I took him away from his twin brother." He looked down. "We were playing, you know. At the beach. It was my fault."

It was so incredibly cold I could not make out a single thing around us, not even a tree. There were strong winds that pieced my skin and clothing. His irises were a strange, unnatural blue color, the same one as the light on his hands. Deeper than the ocean. His grip on my sweaty hand was more careful than before.

"Svetty told me about someone who wanted to hurt you and the baby. Someone....someone in the village." His voice was soft. "There was a noose, hanging from a tree out yonder. He came by to make sure the rope was working. Tested it everyday. He didn't get to come over here and lay his hands on you or the little one. I ripped him apart until he was nothing but bone. Dust. Back in the ground where he belongs.”

I didn't realize that my eyes were full of tears until they started spilling down my face, my chin. I remembered seeing Jene's and George's faces, the dark ashes on their faces and chin. It all made sense. Adlai washing his clothing, burning the ones he couldn’t get clean. It was the blood he did not want me to see. Not just Fritz's, but all the bones that were littered across the edges of the forest. He reached out to me, but I immediately took drew back like his hand was a burning coal. A broken look fell in his eyes.

Quietly, he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. Then another warm one, wetter than the first. I stood still as plywood. His fingers ran down the length of my sweaty spine and lightly trailed my collarbone.

"I did what I had to do,” he whispered, the longing in his tone soft against my ear. “Please, do not be afraid of me. I want to open up the world to you.”

"Once you had found out, you could have told me. We could…have moved away or come up with another alternative," I signed, barely able to get my words out. "You….you…didn't have to kill him. How will people see us now—once they find out? You can't always rely on violence to solve all of our problems.”

”It comes in handy.” His voice was so quiet, lost up in the winds around us.

“Does…does anyone else know?”

”No,” he gently said. “Just you and I.”

“Why?”

”He was going to harm you.”

I studied him, teeth chattering.

His electrical eyes narrowed. "I’m not proud of it, but if I had a second chance, I would do it all over again. I would gladly break every bone in his body than to let him hang you from a tree.”

Shivers ran down my spine. I had never know Fritz to be capable of such an atrocious deed. I began to wonder who else in the village despised me so much they wanted me gone. Would it be Jene or Ian? Would they want to bury me alive? Or would they be like Papa, who had tried to burn me at the stake?

"I…don’t know what to think," I signed.

”Amore,” he whispered. “You’re going to have to kill. Sooner or later. Most often, you’re not likely to have the time to sit and contemplate. You must act quickly to protect the people who you care and love.”

I stared at him.

He avoided eye contact with me, slowly reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knife, unfolding it with a loud click. The shiny blade gleamed at me, before he closed it back. I flinched, not knowing where he had gotten it.

“I’ve been wanting to give this to you for a while,” he said. “Here.”

After a moment, I reached out with hesitation and slowly took it from his cold hand, the sensation strange against my palm. My fingers felt around the surface.

“One day, you are going to need that. When the opportunity comes, I want you to drive that blade so hard into the bastard’s flesh that it snaps in half.”

”But—”

”I’ll keep you and the baby safe. I won’t fail a second time. I won’t let anyone hurt you. And I ask that you don’t let them do the same to you. I’ll teach you how to use it.”

I swallowed heavily. “But…but I don’t have the physical capability to fight off anyone with one arm, let alone a man. I can barely lift the buckets I use to milk Eli when they get full.” A horrifying thought crossed my mind. What if they held me at gunpoint? I had no options.

His hair settled on his dark face. “A lot of people tend to rely more on their physical abilities than their reasoning. They fail to be resourceful and assess the situations that they are in. Don’t worry. When the right time comes, you’ll be ready. I know you will.”

The words made me ponder for a while. Adlai leaned closer, so that our noses were almost touching.

"You do not have to be afraid of people who wish to harm you. People do all sorts of things. They aren't the same as they used to be twenty years ago. If you want to survive, you need to kill. That's how it's always been, and that’s how it always will be.” His voice trailed off into a whisper. “You’ll have to.”

"I killed a woman once at a security ward when I escaped," I replied. "I bludgeoned her to death with a rifle. It's been on my mind, every day. I don't want to live with that.” I quickly shook my head. “I don't want to be a murderer.”

”Like me,” Adlai softly said.

A long silence passed between us. I didn’t know how to reply. And then an intense window of guilt appeared on his face, but he managed to compose himself. That unnerving smile crept back into his face as he released a faint chuckle. Devastated, I tried to retrace my words, but it was too late. I knew I had hurt him.

He averted his gaze. “In this life, you have very few options towards deciding who you want to be. You simply must take what you can get.”

“I…want violence to be very last option. I've said it before and I've said it again---you didn’t have to kill that man. What about his family? Siblings? Or his loved ones?” I struggled to stay balanced in the snow. “Do you ever reflect on that time to time?”

”Of course,” he hoarsely said. “But that don’t do me any good, does it? There are some things that you have to accept and live with.”

“But—”

”You must understand that you can’t always keep hoping people change for the better,” he whispered, gently pushing a stand of hair out of my face. “Fritz can’t threaten you again. Just like that soldier who came into our midst. You have to focus on the outcome.”

I stared at him in a daze.

Adlai stood still, breathing heavily, taking in my reaction. He silently went away; the ice trail following him. His white hair rose in the air. Above us, snow began to lightly fall, the winds began to cease. I remained between the sparkling white bushes, the wind soft against my skin and my hot face.

* * * * * * * *

I wanted to tell him about the nightmares I kept having. But I didn’t know how. His strange eyes often frightened me—I often wondered what thoughts went through his head. The cradle was in the corner of the cave, next to the drawings and clothing I had made. He had placed some colorful seashells he said he had collected at the beach by the railing. A shadow was over his face.

I was afraid of sleeping now, so I tried to avoid it as much as I could by painting or keeping with other useless tasks. But I could not get the silver haired boy’s face out of my mind, nor the harrowing look in his eyes. Perhaps these strange dreams would go away after time, although fragments of them were stuck in my mind, glued to its surface.

It took me a while, but I learned how to sharpen my new knife against a stone. Just as he had promised, my husband demonstrated me ways to come at someone at close range.

“Hands kill,” he quietly told me in the dark woods. An owl hooted in the distance. “Arms move the hands. Deep slices to the major muscles of the arms will keep a person from grabbing you, pulling you or pushing you. Legs also kill. They kick and allow the attacker to move and continue the attack. So target the extremities with deep cuts to the major muscle groups. Think about it: if you slice an attacker to the bone with a cut across the thigh, that person is going down. You have just created enough dysfunction to allow you to escape.”

“I’m only using this as a last resort,” I replied, licking my lips and bending my knees. I could barely hear his voice, let alone make out his shadow. “I’d be a fool to bring a knife to a gunfight.”

He didn’t reply, just simply demonstrated to me how to draw and redraw. I could feel his shadowy hands directing my own. I didn’t understand why chills ran down my neck whenever I could sense his presence, but never actually see him in front of me.

One warm night, he slaughtered a wild boar in front of a crackling fire and dipped his hands into its blood. He scooped out its intestines, heart, and bones. His shirt was missing, and his pants were torn and shredded up. Yet his eyes were bright, starry bright. I watched him from behind a nearby tree, hand on my large stomach, the skirt of my worn nightgown blowing in the wind.

When he noticed me, the dimples appeared around his mouth. Three steaks of boar’s blood marked his cheek. I was shaking as he took my hand and lead me to nearby stump, where the flames crackled and roared. We settled on the grass together. Without a word, he drenched his hand into the carcass and lightly glided his thumb across my face, creating three distinct lines on both of my cheeks. My eyes were wide as I struggled to breathe, but he gently cupped my face with both hands.

“Mwen pral kenbe ou an sekirite. Mwen pral deplase mòn pou ou, ou pote m kontantman chak jou,” he whispered, his lips forming into a faint smile. A piece of coal broke off into the fire. “Pou toutan.”

I didn’t understand what he said and tried to ask him what he meant, but he simply held onto me.

Adlai no longer used his walking stick, and sometimes, I would find him sitting by the stream, gazing intently at a rotting corpse of a rabbit or a squirrel for hours. I tried to fight my drooping eyelids due to my sleep deprivation, but the moment I sensed his warm presence next to me on our bed; the cool tips of his dirty fingers tracing my face, I finally lost the battle.

* * * * * * * *

My concerns for my husband’s state of mind grew.

I frantically dug up what remained of our failing vegetable garden. I think Here Boy had run away again, and I was planning to look for him in the morning. I tried to sort out the rotting tomatoes from one another, estimating how many days we had left before we ran out of food. As I attempted to yank up a stubborn yam, I spotted a figure in the distance. When I rose to my feet, wiping my dirty hand against my stomach, they stopped and stood still in the middle of the daisy field. I could see that they had come from a clearing.

As I made my way down the hill and pushed away tree branches, my heart pounded faster and faster.

My husband stood naked in the bright sunlight, completely coated head and toe in dark red blood, which was all over his hair and face. He quietly sang to himself, but I couldn’t make out the words. The wild grass reached his bare hips and buttocks. Ladybugs crawled on his toes and black fingernails, the wind blowing their matted hair. A fly landed on his face. I immediately rushed up to him, my stomach turning at the sight. When I raised my hand, they didn’t even move, just kept gazing at the flowers. I stepped in front of them, my vision blurry, trying to take it all in. Trying to ask if he was okay, pleading to tell me what he had just done.

”Adlai,” I weakly signed.

No answer. Eyes still, focused.

I signed his name again, before pulling him into an embrace, not caring if my clothing would be stained. My ears were stinging.

”Sit…why don’t you sit for a moment?” I spelled out, trying to wipe the edge of my sleeve against his cheek. “Sit.”

A hint of a melancholy smile fell on his lips—as if he suddenly realized I was there. He stopped singing. The dimples appeared, but only for a moment. Then his eyes got wet, real wet.

”What happened?” I asked, the heat in my face growing worse. “Please…tell…me—”

It was all over him, some parts caked on and others wet like he had fallen into a deep ocean of red. I buried my head into his chest, trying to make sense of it all. He didn’t appear to look wounded. After a few moments I managed to get myself back in order and looked up at him. I needed to focus—get all this blood off of him. And yet I kept peering off into the distance—to see if he had been followed, but there was nothing but grass and trees and sky. I gently cupped the side of his face with my hand; he lightly gave it a brief squeeze.

When I desperately grabbed hold of his large left hand, he slightly turned his head away. Something was odd about his pupils. As I led him down to the stream he followed after me like an obedient mule, his red footsteps leaving marks against pale yellow daisies. Once we had waded down into the water, in desperation, I tore off my a chunk of my dress and began scrubbing. He remained still, watching the lilypads float by and the bullfrogs argue amongst each other. I tried to ask him again to tell me what happened, but he didn’t say a word. He finally raised his eyes to me behind his tangled wet hair as I sponged his back and shoulders. In disbelief, I studied the stuff that got all over my fingers and hands, realizing that it wasn’t his.

As I moved to wipe his arms with my soaked skirts, he lightly held onto my wrist. Reached out, caressed both sides of my face, and leaned his forehead against mine as he tucked my hair behind my ear. I wanted him to tell me what was on his mind, but not a single word came from his mouth. And I broke down, sobbing hysterically as he drew me in my arms. He had started to lose far too much weight again, like something was eating him on the inside.

* * * * * * * *

When I placed my knapsack over my shoulder and began heading to the fields to check on Eli, I almost jumped as I saw my husband’s figure. He stepped towards me through a bamboo patch, leaves stuck in his matted hair. It took me a while to recover from being startled, but a tiny hint of a smile formed on his scabbed lips when he saw me. I realized he had been watching me pack up the only two dresses I owned.

“Why are you down here?” I placed my hand on my hip, where the handle of my knife was hidden under my skirts. “You should be resting.”

Silence.

“Have you seen the goat?” I asked.

Nothing. Just that strange look in his eyes.

”Adlai,” I signed. “Do you remember what I had told you yesterday evening? I’m going to get more food. The vegetable plants are dying, and there are no more seeds. I need to find some more so we can plant again.”

His chest slowly rose up and down, Adam’s apple bobbing. Dark bags were visible under his large eyes, his face pale and sunken in. Wild, tangled red hair brighter than the most fiercest flame, like a torch. He slowly looked down once he spotted my knapsack. I knew he could sense my anxiety, and I didn’t like it because I knew he was good at reading people. I didn’t like seeing him so thin and cold and tired. He appeared more frail than ever, and he fumbled with his hands, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

”We don’t have any more,” I signaled the words slowly. It took me a while to reach into my knapsack and pull out the strange green paper civilians called currency. “I will get as much as I can. I think I have enough, don’t you? I buried the rest of it under the oak tree. Take it, it is yours. It is for an emergency.”

His dark shadow spread across the grass, the leaves, and the moss, finally above me. I tucked the money back into its secure place. His footsteps were hesitant, awkward, suddenly rapid as he rushed towards me. His eyes had a deeply broken look to them—they looked like they belonged to someone else. The clothes he wore hung on him like a tent, clear droplets hanging in his hair since it recently rained. When I stepped back, unsure what to make of his behavior, his left hand wrapped around mine again, the blue veins on his hand pulsing through his pale skin.

”I’m concerned,” I spelled the words out against his palm, ignoring the water falling down my face. “You haven’t been eating. You’ve been unwell. You’ve been scaring me, because you do all these things. I want to help you. You’ve helped me so many times before, more than I can count. I can’t stand by and see you suffer like this. I won’t. It’ll be awful of me to do so.”

A crushed expression came on his face.

I wiped my eyes. “I know you’ve been scared—which is why you won’t talk to me. I was thinking of finding a doctor. That’s why I plan to look for Svetty. She might know someone who could offer treatment. Someone we can trust without giving away your identity. I don’t want to leave you alone. But it’ll only be for a couple of weeks; I’ll be back as soon as possible with medication. And soon, you’ll feel better.”

While I had deeply hoped he would agree since he hadn’t said a word to me when I explained all of this to him last night; I found myself solely mistaken. He reached out to me which so unexpectedly that I nearly dropped my knapsack.

“I have to go today, Adlai. If we don’t get food, we’ll starve. There’s no more here.”

I tried to yank my arm away, but he gently held on, his large, calloused hand slowly moving down from my wrist to my palm. Fingers interlocked with my own.

”I’m going to get supplies and help,” I replied, breathing heavily as I finally wrenched my hand free. ”So what I would like for you to do, as I had told you last night, is to make sure what we do have last. Make sure to get your fruits in as well. Plenty of vitamins, yes? I’ll be gone for a while, and be back before you know it. I’ve done the trip a dozen times. You’ve seen me come and go.” I really didn’t understand. Why would this one be any different? Did he not know that our crops were dead? “I’ll be careful.”

A devastated look fell into his eyes. To my horror, he sank to his knees in the grass, firmly drawing me to him. I lost my balance, but he caught me in his arms as I fell, holding me from behind.

”Stop it! Let me go!”

I tried to push him away, but his grip was stronger as I tried to move. He buried his head in my shoulder and gently propped me up onto his lap, my skirts spread above his pants. Frustrated and having enough of it all, I tried to pry his arms free from me, ignoring the water welling in my vision. A bird chirped in the air above us.

”Let go! Stop being so difficult. Why have you been acting strange? I’ve been trying to communicate with you all week, and you won’t listen. I need to get help. You have to let me go. The baby and I will be fine, if that is what you are worried about.”

No answer.

”Let me go.” Despite me pushing at his hand, he remained still. Silent as a statue.

When I tried to stand up again, he locked his legs around mine, his bare feet streaked with mud. Irritated beyond belief at the pleading look in his eyes, I began to squirm, managing to break out a little more, but he had retightened his gentle hold on me as I tried to pry his arms off me. His palms rested on my protruding stomach. I was surprised how strong he was despite how worn down his body looked. His heart was pounding, his collarbones and neck bathed in a layer of sweat. The ragged shirt he had on slipped down, revealing his bare right shoulder from my tussling. His own fingernails were long and dirt rimmed, and I could feel his lips pressed against my neck. His breathing was heavy, panicked, like he was holding back an overwhelming sob.

As I attempted to slip out of his grasp once more, I glared at those large brown eyes once more, searching for something I knew not what to give. We gazed at each other for a moment, and I began to try to weasel out my way again. He didn’t move, just hugged my waist. A few moments passed, no progress as I tried to break away.

“Why are you doing this?” I signed. My cheeks were hot, burning. “Let me go.”

A butterfly landed on a wilted plant in the grass besides us. Although I waited for a response, none came, and my patience was at an end as I began to pry at his hands with my only one, hoping to get through the cracks between his bruised fingers. It was silent, except for his shaky breathing, the birds singing in the air. He drew me a bit closer, the cigarette scent stronger than ever.

After a few moments of struggling on my end, I finally stopped, exhausted. Not once had he moved from his position. His face was hidden, and deep scars were on his fingers that poked out of his oversized sleeves, which were slightly shaking. His left arm lifted my thighs, propping me up sideways on his lap. Water dripped down from the edge of his chin and splashed on my hand. I sniffed, the realization dawning on me.

”I know you think I see you as a monster,” I wrote into his palm, as we were huddled in the grass. It took me a while to understand. I was breathless after several failed attempts to get free from his arms. “But I don’t. I never will. I want you to understand that I am telling you the truth. You told me yours. Now you must let me do the same with mine.”

He didn’t reply, although his silence was louder than anything at the moment. I closed my eyes for a moment, drew him into a deep embrace. He was falling apart into pieces, shaking uncontrollably, his teeth gritted.

“I love you,” I spelled out, barely able to see. “How could you think I wanted to abandon you? You are my best friend. I love you.”

His face was streaked with tears.

”I love you,” I wrote into his palm, softly kissing his mouth and laying my head on his chest. Water spilled down my chin, my nose. “You will always have my heart. No matter what happens; you are a part of me. We are always together, no matter where we go.”

A deep exhale came from his mouth, his shoulders began to relax. His arms became limp, but I held onto him, and we both settled into each other. Eyes closed, faces drenched as if were running together in the rain—like we had done so many times.

I didn’t know how to ask him yet about what had happened when I had found him in the flower fields, although I tried to. He hadn’t spoken in five days straight. The very last thing I wanted to depart for even a remote period of time, but I had no choice. He couldn’t leave the villagers unattended. He silently scooped me up in his arms, carried me a distance across the fields; my head leaning against his shoulder.

I wiped my puffy eyes with the back of my muddy hand, tightly tucking my knapsack with my meager clothing close to me. My nose was stuffed as I glanced back in the distance, where our cave was. I would come back as soon as I ready make sure he had reliable sources---things that he could use. I sniffed and counted to ten in my throbbing head.

His footsteps stopped; he gently put me down. A soft, warm wind blew between us. I held him for a long time, his breathing was a lot calmer now. But his nose was red. The grass was cold beneath our bare feet.

When I slipped out of his grasp, his hand lingered around my own for a moment, tracing the metal band on my index finger, before slowly releasing me, even though it tore me in two. I placed a gentle kiss on the side of his cheek, and began to make my way through the woods, navigating through the ditches and tall rocks. When I looked back, he was staring after me. I couldn’t see his face.

I continued heading up the hill, reading the map I had picked up from Flanders, ignoring the pain in my bare feet. It traveled up my legs, my thighs, and my abdomen, but I didn’t stop moving. I hope he would take good care of himself while I was away.

* * * * * * * * *

Around nightfall in a few days the pain was so severe that sleep was impossible. I grunted, my breaths heavier, a fire settling between my legs and pelvis. The more I tried to ignore it; the worst it got until I finally sat up. My skirts were suddenly drenched, and when I raised them up, a small puddle had formed on the ground. Water continued to gush out as I scooted backwards into the bushes, panicked that a soldier would find me. I leaned my back against a tree, trying to deny what I knew was happening. How could this be? I was due in two months.

But the urge to push became irresistible, so I closed my eyes, drowning in the intense pain. My bare toes curled against the dirt; I wanted to scream. Beneath me the leaves were drenched with blood. The silence of the trees and my out of control breathing covered my ears. My hair spilled over my face as I released some strangled noises, letting the contractions take their course. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it seemed like an eternity. Sweat beaded down my temples, I gripped the wet grass next to me, on the verge of passing out.

The sky had become a purple hue when I finally heard a very faint, tiny cry. I leaned my head back, completely exhausted, struggling to breathe, my heart pounding.

Thousands of questions rushed in my mind—why hadn’t I prepared better? I had no diapers or blankets or anything, and all the clothes I had made were back down at the cave. I cursed my stupidity, my failure to think ahead. How had I missed to consider such a possibility? I ran a hand though my hair, trying to ponder where to go next to get what I needed for my child without being caught.

But another weak cry broke through my thoughts.

When I slowly lifted up my skirts, a deep smile fell upon my sweaty face. I gently reached down to scoop up the wailing baby boy. He was waving his little arms and legs, the bright red hair on his head thin like chicken feathers. I managed to cut the umbilical cord with a stick and quickly undo the front of my dress, pushing it down so my swollen, heavy breasts were fully exposed. He was covered in all sorts of stuff, and I needed to find a way to clean him up, but I could not take my gaze off his sweet face. He had the undeniable brown eyes of his father. It was an extra struggle to wait for the placenta to come, but once it did, I was more than relieved. Yet I found myself deeply concerned about his small size, since I knew that he was premature.

My inner thighs burned and itched under the thick coating of blood that that covered them. With my teeth, I tore off a piece of string from my sleeve and clamped the end of the stump on his stomach, my fingers shaking as I balanced him in my arm.

I carefully positioned him next to my left breast. His little mouth was opening and closing, caught up in a long series of cries, and I instantly knew it was because he was cold, in this giant place full of sounds and noises. A strange instinct came over me; I ripped off as much fabric as I could off my ragged skirts and fashioned it the best I could around his tiny body, kissing his round nose. I slowly adjusted my breast with my hand again for a good while, hoping he would suckle. But he didn’t. He just stared at me, with those beautiful, round curious eyes. I was unable to resist a smile, and an overwhelming sensation fell upon me.

Come now, sweet boy. I thought. Please. I know you’re hungry. You’re a tough little guy. You didn’t come all this way to quit now, did you?

To my relief, the warmth seemed to calm him down, made him stop the fussing. I gently eased the edge of my nipple into his mouth. He was able to latch on after a few tries, and I studied his little hands, palms smooth as velvet. Such tiny fingernails. I desperately wanted to sing to him as I stroked his damp hair. Something was odd about his right eye; it was a milky shade, as if covered with a thick film.

As he began to nurse, I tore off another large piece of my dress to add in more layers. I gently bounced him in my arm once he finished, and nothing at that moment mattered, because he and I were one. As his eyelids slowly started to close and he drifted into sleep; I whispered a name for him in my mind: Pilot.

Two hours later, I awoke to see the sky was lit ablaze and the world had caught on fire. The air was full of smoke and ashes.