They were headed down the valley to check up on a lead Jess had unearthed with Afia, whispered rumors about the enemy falling back, redeploying men and machine guns to other places, other valleys, other fights with other Americans. It had sounded too good from the outset, but the marines didn’t give points for shying away from the tough stuff, and anyway, as far as the guys in the OP were concerned, they’d been brought here for one purpose, and that was to kill insurgents. If Haji thought they were crafty enough to outfox the baddest fighting force on the planet, well, let the motherfuckers try.

It sounded good in theory, but in practice, filing down goat trails with a parched throat and grit in your eyes and every fucking snapped twig the shot that might kill your best buddy? Jess figured most of the guys in the patrol felt like she did: i.e., this was a very bad idea.

They’d given her the dog for nights like this. For the desolate, lonely, desperate nights, the rain hammering down on the roof above her, the wind gusting through the trees like voices from beyond. These were the nights when even Ty’s little four-room shack seemed impossibly vast and filled with ghosts—Afia’s ghost, Ty’s, all the others Jess had collected. These nights, when the dreams came back visceral and cinematic, the memories inescapable. These were the nights when Lucy earned her keep.

The dog knew her; Jess couldn’t argue that point. They’d spent a month on a ranch together in eastern Washington, feeling each other out as the trainers watched. It wasn’t long before Lucy could pick out by Jess’s breathing that an attack was coming. Soon the dog learned to scout around corners in the grocery store for her, watch her six for surprises when they walked into town. And when the nights got long and empty back home, and Jess dreamed of the valley and woke up screaming herself hoarse, Lucy would climb into bed beside her, snuggle up close and lick her face, cuddle, until the nightmares were gone, and the valley gone with them.

But Lucy hadn’t been here since the night Kirby Harwood knocked on Jess’s door, a month or so back. As far as Jess could surmise, the dog wasn’t ever coming home. So now, with a storm raging outside and the dark house cold and empty, there wasn’t anyone to turn to when the memories came clawing back, nobody who could save her. Jess lay in bed amid tangled sheets, the rain pouring down outside and a bitter wind howling, and still she couldn’t escape the valley.