My love, are you well?Melisa’s voice emerges from the depths of my mind.
Hearing her voice tugs at something fragile inside of me.
Well enough,I say back.Has anyone turned up on your doorstep?
A few women. We are making do with the space we have, but I worry.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
I worry, too.
Ra’Sa,Melisa starts.
Yes?
There are two comfort women. They didn’t come with us when we escaped last time. Daria is a comfort woman in the northern lumber yards. Alisa lives near her. Will you get them?
Yes,Ruh’flor.Take care of our little Thea and Wren. Please, be well, and remember what I told you. If you don’t hear from me in three days…
A kind hand brushes through the bond in acknowledgment, and then she leaves me. The loss of her sweet voice in my head is unwanted, but it is for the best. I must focus. A little time apart now will soon be rewarded with a life together.
Weary and tired, I walk toward the slave pens. Crossing the fence, I walk inside and find humans everywhere. A group of men are huddled in the middle, and I ask, “Report. Who knows anything about the smoke?”
A few turn back, but I’m surprised to see Felip guzzling water. He is utterly winded, probably from running.
“Rasa,” he says, standing. “El Lobo sends word. They are burning the barracks.”
“Good. Keep evacuating to ensure we can all leave."
We have few supplies and even fewer people who can be spared to help.
Still, those available nod and get to work. Men and women hurry through the structures, yelling for others to come.
Humans pour out of houses and follow the small group of men. I let them go and start preparing for the upcoming conflict.
Those who stay behind sharpen the dull tools upon rocks and boulders that I conjure. I lay out our old plan and even run exercises to show them how to defend against an enemy.
We gather and scavenge and plunder and train for hours until the sun passes the midpoint in the sky.
And then, someone arrives at the other side of the barricade.
"Blue one!" a human voice yells.
I move through the horde of men and supplies toward the wooden structure made of tables, chairs, benches, and parts of roofs.
I climb to the top to see El Lobo.
My eyes go wide.
"Friend! You live!" I call down.
"Not for long," he retorts with a chuckle.
Blood covers his face and hands, and he doesn't even try to wipe it off. He stands there, some giant warrior’s spear in hand, and looks me over, from my head to my feet.
“It looks like you’ve also fought hard, no?” he calls up.
I look behind him at the four men accompanying him. They all are equally bloody, but some are burned.