“So Talon,” asked Gryph, “do you have a plan for defeating for the Protectorate?”
Talon nodded slowly. He then turned the question upon the asker, “What about you?”
Gryph laughed sarcastically. His reaction declared, we have no idea what to do. Gryph put his thoughts into words, “Not really, Talon. Before leaving the village a few weeks ago, the Protectorate leader, Commander Lupier, alerted the villagers to prepare for the arrival of a company of Crimson Guards. These guards, according to official decrees, would then escort us to Centage City. Once there, we begin our new lives as citizens of the Protectorate. Lupier made it sound grand. All of our problem would vanish, at least, that is the idea he conveyed to us. Most of the villagers, even the ones wary of the Protectorate, readied themselves for re-location. The people are packed and eager to leave. They are raring to begin a life of ease, where they will find relief from whatever bothers them.”
“I guess the Protectorate views themselves as the elixir of life; they cure all that ails,” said Talon.
“So true,” agreed Gryph.
“What about you,” said Rose, directing her question to Crag, “Are you ready for your re-location?”
“I am not ‘re-locating,’” declared Crag adamantly.
Rose looked to the others in the room, as if waiting for their response to the same question.
Triton grimaced as he violently shook head from side-to-side, in obvious agreement with Crag. Bianca and Violet, likewise, shook their heads in agreement, but they relied upon gentle motions.
“Some of us,” Gryph said, “are making other arrangements. We planned to leave the village this evening and avoid the guards’ arrival. At this point, we can think of nothing else to do. No villager is willing to stand openly against the Protectorate, and that include us, but we are not willing to acquiesce to the Protectorate. Thus, we are going into hiding, and then, we can make plans from there. Perhaps we move away, and try to find somewhere else to live – a place not lorded over by Crimson Guards.”
“Is there anyone else going with you?” asked Daks.
“Maybe a few more people,” answered Gryph.
“What do you know about my father?” asked Daks. “We noticed the leaflet posted on the light post: ‘Wanted, Daks Bullskin …’ but I was not sure what it meant. I just want to see my father and mother.”
“I am sure you do,” said Gryph. “Your mom and pop were one of the first to leave the village – not long after you disappeared. We assumed they relocated to Centage City, a belief that seemed verified when the ‘wanted’ signs began to appear.”
“Does that mean my parents are helping the Protectorate?” asked Daks.
“It could mean lot of things,” said Gryph.
“My father left with the Protectorate,” said Talon, “but he did so to protect Rose and me. Perhaps your father made his choice for a similar reason.”
“Yea, maybe,” said Daks.
“But what about your families?” asked Rose as she looked at Bianca and Violet. They were both near her age, and she wondered about the arrangements made with their families.
Bianca sniffled; tears streamed down her pale cheeks. The typically perky girl with curly locks started to speak; her lips move slowly but no words exited her mouth. Bianca looked away, apparently unable to vocalize her thoughts. Violet looked down, obviously distraught at the current conversation.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked Rose.
“No,” said Gryph. “Well … perhaps you did, Bianca’s parents left with guards from the Protectorate – much like your father. Guards came to their houses and ‘asked’ their parents to relocate to Centage City. As we know, when asked a question by a Crimson Guards, there is only one answer – that being whatever Guards wants to hear. As for Violet Taylor, her parents … I am not quite sure how to put this in the correct words. Crag, can you help me?”
“Why do you want help from me?” said a grouse Crag.
“Because,” said Gryph, “the last time I said anything, you referred to me as an ‘old man’ and said that ‘I say too much.’ I am trying to avoid these mistakes.”
Crag grumbled, again. “Just tell them what you need tell them,” the young man finally said.
“Oh, okay,” said an overtly shocked Gryph. “I just wanted to be extra careful.” The mapmaker re-directed his attention toward the Sunsculptors; he flashed a wry smile at the curly-haired youths. “As for Violet’s mother (her father died of an infection a few months after Violet’s birth), they are part of a non-confrontational resistance group. We seek to undercut the efforts of the Protectorate in this village while simultaneously appearing as loyal workers. For example, Triton’s family, who are a brick masons, began selling bricks to the Protectorate made of inferior materials. Within a year, the bricks degrade due to typical weather patterns. Violet’s family began making uniforms for the Protectorate stitched with the low-grade threads and too short of material overlap. After a month of moderate use, the uniforms begin to rend, and for every repair, two more tears will develop. Additionally, they dyed the fabric with a jukio weed, which is an allergen to most people. The poor Taylor family is suffering from congestion and headaches due to their exposure to the weed, but at least, we can expect the Guards to display a lot of congestion and itchy-skin as well. I supplied the Protectorate with maps filled with subtle errors. I doubt anyone would notice the slight variation, but anyone relying on one those maps will end up walking in circles.”
“So your plan is to hide before the Protectorate arrives?” asked Talon.
“Unless you have a better idea,” snapped Crag.
“I just might,” said Talon.
“Ridiculous,” said Crag in a dismissive tone.
“Let’s hear him,” offered Gryph.
“Yea, let’s listen,” said Amber, who now stood by her father’s side. “Let’s be honest, our run and hide plan stinks. If we want to a make a real difference, we need an idea that actually works.”
“Yea, I suppose,” muttered a slightly more agreeable Crag.
“So what it your plan,” asked Gryph.
Talon explained his plan from the beginning. Even the JRB did not know all of the details. While they knew of their efforts to de-materialize the glowing weapons, they previously lacked the specifics underlying his plan. Talon spoke furiously, realizing their window of opportunity shrank with each step of the Crimson Guards. He mentioned, just once, the phrase “Book of Epiphany,” and silently chastised himself for making this reference. While he spoke honestly with those present in the room, he thought it best to keep the secret book just that, a secret. In the onslaught of his ideas, plans, and hoped spilling into the room, he hoped the others missed his fleeting reference. After an hour, the sun-sculptor finally slowed his speech and asked the crucial question, “So, who is with me?”
The ever-quiet Triton gently shook his head from side to side. His actions clearly revealed his unbelief at Talon’s absurd plan. Triton stood and walked dismissively into the adjacent room.
“So,” muttered a downtrodden Bianca, “your plan involves us drinking a secret potion that comes from an unnamed source. This potion reacts with our bodies to turn us into a … what did you call it … a … a person who de-matters light with the touch of our skin.”
“De-materializes light,” said Talon, “but yes, essentially, that is the plan.”
Even Daks looks despondent. After all these travels, this was the plan, he thought. So this is how it ends, a quest marked by courage fizzles into impotent absurdities. He yearned for something more certain.
“It seems that your plan forgot something,” asked Crag.
It forgot a lot of stuff, thought Daks.
“What is that?” asked Talon.
“Once the glowing weapons evaporate …”
“Dissipate,” said Talon, “they dissipate.”
“Whatever,” Crag. “Once the glowing weapons dissy-pate, what keeps
the Crimson Guards from just throttling us? They are stronger and more numerous. Even without their weapons, we stand no chance against them. They are trained soldiers; they need only extend their muscled-up arms and wrap their claw-like hands around our throats. If your plan works perfectly, we still have no chance.”
Talon stared blankly at Crag; the sun-sculptor never considered this possibility. As Crag Shumaker rightly noted, the Guards needed no weapons for victory. They could march into the village carrying a daisy in one hand and a love poem in the other and still relocate the people just as easily. Their weapons, while potent, primarily functioned as tools of intimidation – not militant strength. My plan, Talon realized, failed to account for this key issue. How did the obvious so obscure my sight? I was so fixated on the details that I missed blatant needs.
Just as Crag finished his question, the quick-thinking Rose offered an answer. While she generally chose to defer to Talon’s leadership, especially on this venture, she noticed a loss of hope in Talon’s shifting eyes and a defeated spirit in his slumping shoulders. Rose knew Talon lacked an answer. Rose, like Talon, lacked an answer, but she began talking expecting an answer to emerge from her expressed thoughts.
“That’s a legitimate concern,” began the plucky Rose. “For this reason, Talon opted to time the offensive during the pre-dawn hours. If we arrive in their midst during the cover of darkness, the expectation is the dissipation of weapons will create confusion within their ranks. Additionally, many Guards will be sleeping, which will further add to the confusion. If we tried this approach during the day, the Guards might easily recognize our efforts for what they are, a few people dissolving their weapons. At night, they will likely believe their camp is under attack from a large contingent of soldiers.”
Talon nodded in agreement, acting as if this were his plan all along.
“You’re joking, right?” asked Crag sarcastically. “Your entire plan, even if perfectly executed, relies upon the Crimson Guards becoming confused. These are trained soldiers. They don’t get confused. They stay organized and then disembowel their enemies.”
Talon and Rose nodded.
“And,” continued Crag, “this entire plan revolves around my body dissolving the glowing sabers, glowing maces, glowing spears, and glowing arrowheads.”
Once again, Talon and Rose nodded.
Crag shock in head in absolute and utter disbelief. “Your plan is the stupidest thing I ever heard, and even calling it ‘stupid’ feels like a compliment. I have no desire to see the Protectorate relocate our village, but I also have no desire to die in a pointless suicide mission. I will die at some point, but I end my life on a fool’s crusade whiffed from the defunct imagination of a patently ignorant child.”
“Admittedly,” offered Gryph, “this plan lacks …how should I say it?” He struggled to find the words. “Well, anyway, the plan is farfetched. Nevertheless, I trust in the words of Amber. She declared these two would ‘lead our village in unexpected ways.’ I think the term ‘unexpected’ describes their plan.”
“May the Creator watch over us … and them,” said Violet. “Your plan makes just enough sense to work. While there are no certainties, I find myself inclined to go with you. For reasons, I can express, I trust you and this ludicrous plan. Besides, I grow weary of quiet resistance. My mother, sister, and I have sewed poor quality uniforms for many Guards, but I am ready for a bolder action.” Talon immediately thought, Did we invite her? And yet, she want to go with us?
“Since we will arrive under the cover of darkness,” said Talon, “I suspect our identities will remain hidden. You can come with us this night and still return to your poor craftsmanship.”
“Perhaps,” said Violet, “but I think if this plan works, our lives will change. Let the Creator guide our journeys, both during this night and in the days ahead.”
“Enough with all this ‘Creator’ talk,” snapped Crag. “If you mention the Creator again, I am going to disembowel you before Crimson Guards get their chance. If there such thing as a ‘Creator,’ why would our village face these troubles?”
Talon did note Violet’s third reference to the ‘creator.’ While most people generally accepted the idea of Creator, Talon, like Crag, registered the oddity of Violet’s third reference – not in its content but in its prevalence. For Violet, the notion of the Creator seemed more personal than to most people, who limited their talk of a Creator to an abstract concept. After Talon’s encounter with Nameless, however, he felt more at ease with references to the Creator.
Violet politely retorted to Crag’s menace, “May the Creator show you kindness, despite your threats upon me.”
Crag stormed from the room, joining his hulking minion in the adjacent quarters. Violet’s response, while defiant but not confrontational, left the young man flustered. Violet openly defied his demand to cease talk of the Creator by rebuffing his hostility with kindness. The pale-colored teenager with amethyst eyes nonchalantly quieted the bully techniques of a muscled-up man ten years her elder. As Crag left, Violet said nothing, despite the overwhelming opportunity to gloat over the incident.
“The only question now,” proclaimed Gryph, “is this: are we going to help or not?”
“I never expected anyone to help,” began Talon, “even Rose or Daks or Willow. When Rose and I left the village, we just wanted an opportunity to live without the Protectorate telling us that we must forge weapons for their guards. Soon after leaving, we decided to set ourselves toward goal of destroying the weapons we helped to create. We, as sun-sculptors, know the great ills of our sun-sculpting ability; we know our ability to supply an army with vastly superior weapons. For this reason, generations upon generations of Sunsculptors, refused to supply weapons to armies. Yet, for the last few years, we did just that. While Lupier did dupe us, the responsibility for the weapons of destruction rests upon me. Rose was younger; she just followed directions. I, however, was old enough to know better.
“I cannot truly expect any of you to join with me on this impossible task. Crag is right when to call our plan ‘stupid.’ It is ‘stupid.’ It is ludicrous, but right now, I see no other options. The rest of you, however, have other options, including Rose. I cannot tell you this plan will succeed, but the window to derail the Protectorate is now. Each day, the Protectorate ‘relocates’ another village, and every day, their path of violence, intimidation, and force removes a village that once prospered through compassion and kindness. If I wait much longer, there may be no villages to defend. Thus, I choose today to take my stand. As for you, however, I cannot ask you to do the same. Your life awaits you, and in truth, even with the Protectorate ruling Centage, your life might not be too bad. I suggest you go home or go into hiding. Why make the Protectorate your enemy? I am willing to try this alone. The plan is so farfetched that I doubt more people even increase the chance of success. I am still not sure of this whole Creator-thing, but I know this: something as powerful as the Creator needs to smile upon me to make this plan work.”
With those words of discouragement, Talon paused to hear the rejections of the others.
“I’m in,” said Rose. “Talon, I know you do think I am responsible, but let’s be honest, I probably a lot more of those weapons than you.” The quick laugh of both Sunsculptors acknowledged the truth of that statement. Talon nodded to Rose’s declaration – not point in wasting time trying to dissuade her.
“Thanks for offering a way out,” said Gryph, “but I want to help. Besides, I trust the words of Amber. When my daughter makes declarations as she did about you, then I must heed those words. I do agree with you; your plan is ‘ridiculous.’ Nevertheless, I’m in.”
Talon nodded in agreement. For the second time, Gryph referenced his daughter’s declaration about him. Talon, once again struggled to remember the golden-eyed girl’s prophetic words, but once again, he could not recall her declaration. The sun-sculptor nodded, too embarrassed to admit his forgetfulness in regards to Amber’s declaration.
Crag burst back into the room; he obviously overheard their conversation from a nearby location. “I’m out,” he growled. “Before I take such risks, I need more answers. While I have no love for the Protectorate, I also have no desire to throw away my life just to spite them. Your plan spews nothing but fantasy, and I will not leverage my life against dung-ridden idiocy. The Sunsculptor boy speaks truth when he admits a decent life under the Protectorate may await me. Perhaps on another day, I will join an uprising, but on this day, I take no sides.” With that statement, Crag exited the room and proceeded up the stairs. Triton, who followed his crony into the room, growled in agreement and followed the young cobbler. The exaggerated clunk, thud, clunk of their feet upon the hollow wooden steps indicated their desire to remove himself from their presence. Crag and Triton seemed intent to disavow themselves from any plans. The rebelled-minded plans within the residence resided on the ground level, while two neutral individuals cloistered themselves on the house’s upper floor. Whatever farfetched plan the group concocted, Crag and Triton wanted nothing to do with it.
Talon nodded at their decision. He held no malice toward either man. If their plans failed, he thought, the people might benefit from Crag’s leadership. Crag, accordingly, served as the hedge to their all-in wager. Talon felt no certainty of success, and should they fail, he wanted someone left to pester the Protectorate.
“I’m with you, Talon,” said Violet. Her silky, smooth hair matched her demeanor. For being just a teenager, her demeanor revealed poise well beyond her age. “Tomorrow’s dawn arrives under two purple moons. Tonight, as you know, is called a Violet Sky.” The others nodded in their understanding. The night sky of Centage glowed with two moons, a large purple moon and a much smaller white moon. The moons cycled through their respective schedules, both waxing and waning to their rhythms. About every three years, both moons were full on the same night. For reasons unknown to the villagers, the purple moon brightened and displayed a softer, brighter purplish hue. The white moon, however, developed a lavender color. Both moons, on this night, glowed with the same electrified lilac shade. The moons, on this rare night, appeared to have mixed their colors, much like a painter might mix white with a plum color to create a purplish color. Hence, the villagers called this rare celestial event a Violet Sky – the night both moons glowed the same violet color.
Violet continued to speak, “Yes, tonight is the Violet Sky. Did you know I was born under a Violet Sky?” The others shook their head from side-to-side. As they shook, they each noted the origin of her name, Violet – after the moon color that greeted her arrival into this world. “Given that tonight is also Violet Sky, I think that is a sign to me: don’t be afraid to die. The night offers no guarantee of success, but I am not afraid. The violet moons that welcomed me into this world stand ready to usher me out.”
“No offense,” said Talon, “but I am not planning on being ‘ushered out’ of this world. I plan to live a long life after this night.”
“None taken,” said Violet. “But the fear of death chokes our courage. On this night, I have no fear.”
“Great,” muttered Daks sarcastically. “The first person we find in our village is as loony as Talon. She talks nonsense just like him.”
Talon bit his lip to hide a grimace. Talon knew not what Daks planned to decided. From the moment this trek began, Daks trudged along behind the others as a reluctant companion. Now that Daks had opportunity to leave gracefully, Talon fully expected Daks to walk away from their quest. Talon waited anxiously for Daks’ decision, and sighed deeply with his friends every word, assuming his months-long companion would bail on their amazing journey. Rose’s long face and Willow’s wayward gaze both revealed a similar sentiment: Daks was about to deliver a farewell speech.
Daks continued, “With my parent gone, I have nothing here. I have traveled this far and seen amazing things, I guess I can travel one more night with you.”
“Really?” queried an obviously befuddled Talon.
“What?” asked Daks. “Were you expecting me to say something else?” Daks asked in a rhetorical fashion, but his demeanor revealed a measure of hurt at the possibility that he might bail on their venture.
“Uh, no, not really, uh, yea …” Talon finally stopped talking upon realizing his every word only betrayed his genuine surprise at Daks’ decision.”
“I just can’t do it,” bellowed Bianca, bursting forth an answer as if releasing pinned up pressure. Rose’s friend slumped dejectedly at the brevity of their situation. The teenage girl, the same age as Violet and Rose, now appeared much younger. While the two other girls found strength to rise to their situation, the bubbly, fair-haired Bianca Waters appeared overwhelmed by the night’s coming events. “I just can’t do it. Talon’s plan is impossible. You are going to die if you try this. You will die. Do you hear me? There is no chance for success. Do you really believe this idea is going to work? By this time tomorrow, your corpse will be trophies for the Protectorate. I have no idea why you are doing or what you are thinking. Really, is the Protectorate so bad? Sure, they took my parents, but I can go see them anytime I want. Other than a handful of people who had it coming, have they really hurt anyone? Have they?”
“Yes,” said Willow sternly. Bianca ignored the younger girl.
“I am leaving,” announced Bianca. “I want no part of this meeting, and I am not part of this group.” The girl rushed toward the door at a near run, her blond curls bouncing as she raced toward the small room.
The room’s occupants cleared her path, save one – Gryph. The mapmaker stood in front of the door and refused to move as Bianca halted just inches from the man’s pudgy stomach. “Bianca,” Gryph said sternly. “Please keep our plans safe until morning. By daybreak tomorrow, we will know whether our plan worked or not. Give us until them before you say anything to anyone.”
Bianca pushed Gryph aside and fled through the room’s threshold. While the much larger mapmaker could have blocked her exit, the gentle man refused to exert his will the girl.
“Will she tell of our plans?” asked Rose.
“Perhaps,” said Gryph.
“Should we devise another approach or wait for another night or do something, anything different?” asked Rose. “If she know our plans and tells it to Crimson Guards, we have no chance for success. Our whole strategy rests upon the element of surprise, and if Bianca tells the Guards, we can no longer surprise the Guards. If we cannot surprise them, we have no hope of throwing them into a panic.”
“True,” said Gryph, “but we need to make our attempt this evening. If we wait even one day, our fellow villagers will be traveling with the Crimson Guards. To try anything when the villagers are present only puts them in even more danger. No, I think our best hope is that Bianca is too scared to say anything, at least for a few hours. If she will just stay quiet until morning, we still have a chance.”
“I guess that’s everyone,” concluded Talon. “Tomorrow morning, we emerge from the shadows and set ourselves again the Protectorate. Perhaps, five people will be enough: Rose, Daks, Gryph, Bianca, and me. Not exactly professionally trained solders, are we?”
“Hey,” interrupted Willow, “what about me? I am going with you. Why do you think I trailed along with you for the last two months? The Guards took my mother and Daffie, and tomorrow, I begin getting them back.”
“Wait,” said Talon. “Willow, I appreciate your enthusiasm, and it’s true, you are an invaluable member of the JRB. I, however, cannot let you join us tomorrow. You’re just a child. You’re just eleven years old. That’s too young – too young to put yourself at grave risk. You heard our plan. We have almost no chance of success.”
“I’m twelve.”
“How come,” began Daks in frustrated tone, “you’ve been telling everyone you are eleven years-old?”
“I think I mentioned by age just one, when we first began. I became twelve yesterday.”
Rose said, “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have
celebrated.”
Willow responded, “We have more important tasks than celebrating my birthday.”
Talon stared blankly at the girl. Willow often exuded an aura of a person three times her age. She spoke with insight and, as usual, offered a keen understanding of their situation. The Sunsculptor often forgot the young flesh-weaver was still a child, even at twelve-years old. As he looked down on her short stature and child-like features, he reflected of her youthfulness. On the morrow, he and his companions, in effect, declared war upon the Protectorate. Willow, he thought, needs to remain a child as long as she can. Innocence never revisits its former host. I will not aid the farewell of innocence – not in any person and certainly not in a person as beautiful as Willow.
“But,” protested the round-faced girl with long, straight blond hair and slim appendages, “I want to go with you.” She rushed toward Rose, her head only as high the Rose’s shoulder. She threw her arms around Rose and begged, “I want to see my mother and my sister, and if I help you tomorrow, perhaps I will see then sooner. Besides, you are not much older than I am. If you can go tomorrow morning, then why not me?”
“You are both right,” said Gryph. “Willow, you are too young to face these risks, and true, Talon and Rose are not much older than you. In fact, I think they, like you, are too young for this endeavor, but this plan is theirs. I’m just tagging along.”
“That does not make sense to me,” muttered Willow. “How can I travel with them this far, and then cower once we finally encounter the Protectorate?”
“Willow,” said Rose, “I have never seen you cower to anyone. You are a lionhearted girl who faced dangers beyond the confines of fear. No one here doubts your valor, but for us to show courage, we must be sure that your life goes on. We know not what the morning holds. Before dawn breaks, we will charge a battalion of Crimson Guards who carry indestructible weapons. We charge with the hope that our concoction, somehow, empowers us to dissipate these weapons. Even if that works, we are relying upon causing confusion within their camp – a confusion that reaches mania. When the first glowing blade touches my skin, I need to know that you, Willow Three-of-Seven, the girl who unlike any other, lives to see another day. By staying away from this fracas, your courage emboldens us.”
“While true,” said Daks, “your assessment of our situation depresses me. Next time I choose friends, I hope to find people a little less adventurous.” Everyone laughed; they needed the break in tension.
The scurry of little feat announce the arrival of Amber in the room. She ran next to Willow. “Well, I guess this means that I cannot go, either. You probably think I am too young.”
“Yes,” agreed Gryph. “You are too young, and I fear your mother more than any number of Crimson Guards. If you were to return with no more than a scratch, your mother might still lop off my head. Now, please take Willow and return to the workshop. Mum will be there. The sun is setting, and your mother wants you home before it gets dark.”
“Oh, well,” sighed Amber. The girl with golden-colored eyes trotted toward the door. “Let’s go, Willow. I don’t think we have any other choices.”
Willow looked at Talon, Rose, and Daks one last time. Her eyes relayed her question, Is there any way I can come with you? She, obviously, wanted to stay with her companions and her friends. She trusted the members of the JRB, much more than she trusted Amber Cartog – a girl three years younger who she just met.
Rose moved toward Willow and offered her a comforting hug. “Go, Willow,” said Rose. “We will see you soon.” A single tear streamed down Willow’s face. The quiet-mannered girl wanted to stay and help her friends, but she knew the others were right: she was too young for this encounter. While she often revealed a maturity beyond her years, she was still far too young for such a daring endeavor. Willow sleeked toward the door, and without looking back, followed Amber from the Shumaker residence. Talon looked to Rose, and like Willow, a single tear trickled down her cheek.
“They will be fine,” said Gryph. “My wife will take good care of them.”
“Willow is so young, and this place is so new to her,” said Rose.
“My wife and Amber will look after her,” assured Gryph.
“I expected more of a protest from Willow,” said Talon. “I know she really wants to go with us. I am glad, for her sake, that she realized today’s conflict is not her own.”
“I hope so,” said Gryph, “but like you, I expected more protest from Amber. She usually battles whenever I make any edict-style decision. I think she just like to be argumentative. Not this time, however; she just politely left the room and departed for the workshop.”
”Maybe,” said Talon, “they both sensed the brevity of our situation more than they understood it.”
“Perhaps,” said Gryph. The mapmaker walked to the window and eyed the sun settling over the tree line. The evening sky glowed with a lavender color; the darkness of night loomed upon the horizon. The other gathered around the window and admired the beautiful sunset. “Not often do we have lavender sunset.”
Daks, as usual, spoke his mind, “It’s an omen. Success awaits us.”
“I don’t believe in omens,” responded Gryph kindly. “I do, however, believe in the importance of rest. Our morning begins hours before daybreak. We need all the rest we can get. Let’s get a few bites to eat and then get some sleep.”
The others nodded in agreement – save Violet.
“I want to watch the sunset this evening,” said Violet. “I need to see tonight’s violet moons. There is small hill just outside the village. If you need me, look there.” She slipped out the front door into the bustling village.
Talon yawned and readied for sleep.
Willow trailed Amber as the younger girl zigzagged through the village paths. The paths bustled with people readying for their imminent relocation. Eyes stared downward as everyone seemed intent to “mind their own business.” After traveling a couple of minutes, Amber stepped into a secluded yard and whispered to her companion, “Do you want to help your friends this evening or spend the night in my house wondering what happened?
“I want to help, of course. They won’t let us, though. There is no way they are going to let us doing anything”
“I know what they said,” said Amber, “but sometimes you have to make your own rules. I have a plan and intend to help in tonight’s attack. I could use some help, if you are really interested.”
“Absolutely,” said Willow.
“Let’s sit here while I will tell you …”
The nine-year girl with a propensity for bold, truth-revealing declaration chatted with her newfound friend well into the evening hours.
Amber’s mother fumed. Where are my husband and my daughter? It is bad enough that Gryph keeps having these secret meetings. I dislike the Protectorate just as much as him, but Gryph is going to find real trouble if continues with his wild plans. Then, who lives without a husband? It’s me, not him! Now, he takes Amber with him and keeps her out all night! Why does he need to keep Amber with him? She is just a child. It’s dark outside, and my little girl should be sleeping on her pallet. Instead, my idiot husband keeps her up to all hours of the night. When I get my hands on him …”
24 Q7