She walked along the path she’d travelled the previous night, until she came to the parade ground. She pulled her dark glasses from her pocket, thinking of Ganan’s sightless eyes, but they dimmed her vision too much and she pushed them onto her head. She walked past the building where her mother had been tortured; Drax’s body was still on the steps and she heard the buzzing of flies. This morning, Lichen and Genus and Journey, and Toplanders whose names she did not yet know, would be buried in an old cemetery along with the stories of uncounted others from decades and centuries past. She went to the edge of the broken concrete area and looked out, wanting to see the island clearly, for what it was, for what it had become – stripped of forests, blasted by hurricanes, burned by fires, riven by earthquakes, chewed at by landslides. But still – the mountains stood. At the very limit of her vision, she could see the darker blue of the empty sea, all the way to a blurred horizon, which would bring the Northerners, perhaps to Cibao itself, and they would have to fight to hold onto the camp. Would there be many more acts of violence she would have to commit? She thought of the story of her father swinging an axe at the skynut tree and her own blow to Drax’s head

“What’re you doing?” Emrallie said from behind her. “Why’ve you taken off your glasses?”

“Just wanted to see clearly. For a few seconds.” They stood together, looking south, to the sea.

“Do you think we can beat the Northerners?” Sorrel said.

“All depends on what tech they have. Not if they have military drones. Maybe in hand-to-hand combat. We have the advantage of knowing the place and holding the higher ground, but…”

“Maybe they won’t come here at all.”

“If the PlAK fails, will we be able to see them coming?” Emrallie asked, staring out to sea.

“Yes, from here. If there’s no dust or hurricane or wildfire, we’ll see them coming.”

The settled dust whirled away, zephyrs of wind made visible. Sorrel replaced her dark glasses and stared at the battered island below. Darkest before dawn, she thought. And here, there was dawn with less danger. For now.

She reached into the calabash she carried. “Want an egg?”

“You have it. I had enough last night.”

“D’you think we’ll be okay up here, Em? Living with males, maybe women getting pregnant? Jealousies? Babies?

“Guata, Sorrel! Just eat the egg.” Then Emrallie smiled.

AUTHOR’S NOTE