Alec looked over and saw Marco studying the landscape with wonder, eyes filled with exhaustion, dark circles beneath them. They crested a hill and both paused, looking out, the grassy hills covered in a low mist, sparkling in the dawn. Before them lay three hills, identically shaped.

“My village lies beyond the third hill,” Alec said. “We are close,” he sighed with relief. “Hardly an hour’s hike away.”

Marco’s eyes lit with joy.

“And a very welcome arrival it will be,” Marco replied. “I doubt my legs could carry me much farther. Will your family have food for us?”

Alec smiled, reveling in the thought.

“Food and much more,” he replied. “A warm fire, a change of clothing, any weapons you could want, and—”

“And hay?” Marco asked.

Alec smiled wide.

“Hay enough to sleep a thousand years.”

Marco smiled back.

“That is all I want.”

The two set off at a brisk walk downhill, with renewed vigor, a bounce in their step. Alec could already, in his mind’s eye, smell the cooking from his mother’s kitchen, could already anticipate the look of approval in his father’s eyes as he came home a hero, having sacrificed his life for his brother’s. He envisioned the look on his brother’s face when he walked through the door, and he could already feel his embrace. He could see the look of wonder on his parents’ faces, the joy at seeing their son return. Now, perhaps, they would appreciate him. Before, he had been the second-born son, the one they always took for granted; but now, finally, they would realize how much he meant.

The final stretch of the hike flew by, Alec no longer feeling his pain or exhaustion, and before he knew it, they crested the final hill and he found himself looking down at Soli. He stopped, his heart pounding madly, looking out with great anticipation at the sight of his village below. He immediately recognized its familiar contours, the ramshackle stone cottages, and he searched for their brightly colored roofs, the usual activity of children playing, chickens and dogs chasing each other, cows being led through the streets.

But as he studied it closely, he realized immediately that something was awry. He felt a knot in his stomach as he peered down in confusion. Before him was not the sight of his village as he had expected—but rather a scene of devastation. It was an ugly picture, one he barely recognized. Instead of the familiar cottages, there were burnt-out structures, razed to the ground; instead of trees and paths, there was a field of ash and rubble, smoldering, smoke still rising.

His village was no more.